“I wonder why Sharon was nice to me at all if she was just going to turn around and be abusive again.”
Gabriel continued toying with her hair. “I understand. The cycle of abuse interspersed with occasional bouts of kindness keeps you stuck, waiting and hoping for the kindness to return. And it does, on occasion, only to be swept away. I know all about that. Regrettably.”
Julia turned to face him. “We’ve overcome a lot.”
“That we have.”
“What happened with Simon doesn’t haunt me anymore. Not like it did. I feel as if I’ve moved past that.”
Gabriel cursed under his breath. “That motherfucker is lucky he has a powerful family. I still wish I could beat him senseless and teach his girlfriend a lesson. Your uncle Jack didn’t want us to let them off the hook.”
Julia placed a hand on his chest. “It’s over now. Simon is getting married, and Jack said that Natalie moved to California.”
“The farther away the better.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be a great mother, but I certainly have an idea of what I shouldn’t do.”
Gabriel touched her abdomen through her nightshirt.
“Part of being a good parent is being a good person. And Julianne, you are the best person I’ve ever met.”
He kissed her softly.
“Standing in this house, I can’t help but remember what life was like with my parents. We can have a home like theirs. A home filled with love and happiness. We’ve had so much grace lavished on us . . .” Gabriel’s voice trailed off.
“I’m just relieved I don’t have to do this alone.”
“Me, too.”
Gabriel took her hand and led her to the bed.
Chapter Seventy-six
Durham, North Carolina
April Hudson breezed into her apartment building Monday afternoon, stopping to check her mailbox. She’d just returned from a romantic weekend in the Hamptons with her fiancé, Simon Talbot.
She sighed as she thought about him. He was tall, blond, and handsome. He was smart and from a good family. And the things he could do with his body . . .
The Hamptons were a sentimental favorite. It was where she’d given him her virginity. It was where he’d asked her to marry him.
(Not, of course, in the same weekend.)
As she shuffled through her mail, her mind was a happy whirl of wedding plans and memories from the weekend. He treated her well. And she no longer had to feel guilty about sleeping with him, because they were getting married. She was going to wake up with him every morning, forever.
(Because her thoughts were so engaged, she didn’t notice the ex-Marine from Philadelphia who was sitting in a dark car across the street, watching to see if she’d open his letter. She certainly didn’t know that he was ensuring that no one would trouble his niece and her unborn child.)
At the bottom of her mailbox, she found a manila envelope. It had her name on it, but no address or stamp. Puzzled, she gathered her mail and took the elevator to the third floor. Once she’d entered her apartment and locked the door behind her, she abandoned her luggage and flopped onto the couch.
She opened the manila envelope first and was stunned to find that it contained a stack of large black-and-white photographs. They were all date-stamped September 27, 2011.
A strange buzzing filled her ears. As did the sound of her keys falling from her hand and crashing onto the hardwood floor.
Leafing through the photos, she saw two naked bodies entwined on a bed. The identity of the man was unmistakable. So was his body, his positions, his technique.
But the woman he was with didn’t look like a woman. She looked young, like a teenager.
And the things they were doing . . .
April covered her face with her hands, a cry of anguish escaping her lips.
Chapter Seventy-seven
Washington, D.C.
That evening, Simon Talbot knocked on the door to his father’s office in their family home in Georgetown. He’d been summoned by Robert, his father’s campaign manager, and ordered to return home immediately.
He didn’t know what was so urgent. That morning, he’d said good-bye to April at the airport after enjoying a quiet but sexually charged weekend. He intended to surprise her the following weekend by flying down to Durham. Soon her semester would be over and he’d help her pack her things and move her life to his apartment in Washington, where she belonged.
“Come in,” the senator called.
Simon opened the door and walked toward the chair that was placed in front of the senator’s desk.
“Don’t bother sitting. This won’t take long.” As usual, the senator was gruff and to the point.
“Have you seen these?” He tossed a stack of photographs onto the desk. They fanned out into a random pattern.
Simon looked at the picture nearest him. Snatching it up, he stared at it. His face grew pale.
“Well? Have you seen them?” The senator raised his voice, angrily thumping on the desk with his fist.
“No.” Simon slowly placed the photograph back on the desk, as the feeling of fear pricked the back of his neck.
“It’s you, isn’t it?”
“Uh—”