Her smiled faded. “I don’t think I want to do that, but I’ll consider it. And I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“Don’t worry about me. Have a nice weekend and try to forget about this. If you need to talk, you’ve got my number. I’ll see you next week.” Paul offered an encouraging look and waved as the taxi pulled away.
While Virgil’s words rang in Julia’s ears, she checked her cell phone. She found a text message that had been sent shortly before the professors arrived at Segovia:
Stay away from Prof. Singer.
Stay close to Paul—she despises him.
Be careful. —G
Too little, too late, Julia thought ruefully.
When she entered Gabriel’s apartment she quickly turned on the fireplace, hoping to dispel the darkness that she felt creeping around her heart. But it didn’t seem to help. Truly, all she wanted to do was go home and pull the bed covers over her head. But she knew better than to hide from reality now.
She didn’t want to snoop, but she found herself in Gabriel’s bedroom, kneeling on the floor of his closet. She was searching for his black-and-white photographs, wondering if Professor Singer was in one of them. She certainly had the correct hair color. But the pictures were gone. She examined every inch of his closet and looked around his bedroom and even under his bed. The photos had been removed.
Hanging on the wall in their stead were six pieces of art, some abstract, some renaissance, one by Tom Thomson, but all beautiful and strangely…peaceful. Gabriel had redecorated.
She stood in front of his dresser admiring the reproduction of Botticelli’s Primavera that was displayed over it when her gaze alighted on an eight by ten picture in a dark frame. It was of a man and a woman dancing. The man was tall, attractive, elegant, and commanding, and he was looking down at the woman with an intense, almost heated gaze.
The woman was petite, blushing and staring at the buttons of his shirt. She was wearing a purple dress that was so vibrant it seemed to diminish all the other colors in the picture.
How did he get a photo of the two of us dancing at Lobby?
Rachel, she thought.
Julia quickly placed the picture back and exited the bedroom, being sure to leave everything exactly as she found it.
Chapter 21
While Julia waited at his apartment, Gabriel played the chameleon, blending into his environment. He was charming and gracious to his colleagues, but all the while, his insides churned and his mind raced. He had to force himself to eat and to decline libation upon libation. Gabriel was convinced that he would be returning to an empty apartment. Julianne was going to run.
It wasn’t surprising—he knew it would happen eventually. He just hadn’t thought it would be this secret that would separate them. He was unworthy of her for many reasons, reasons he’d hid like a coward. It wasn’t a question of love, for Gabriel did not believe that she could ever love him. He was unlovable. Nonetheless, he’d hoped to be able to court her long enough for their affection and friendship to bind them together, even in the face of some of his darkness. Now it was too late.
When he finally arrived home, he was surprised to find her asleep on the sofa, her face a picture of perfect peace. He tried valiantly to be still, to resist the urge to touch, but he couldn’t. He reached out and softly stroked her long, silken hair, murmuring sad Italian words.
He needed music. At that moment, he felt the need for melody and lyric to soothe his agony. But the only song he could think of that would match this moment was Gary Jules’ cover of Mad World. And Gabriel didn’t want to be listening to that song when Julianne left him.
Suddenly, her eyes fluttered open. She saw that Gabriel was no longer wearing his suit jacket and tie and had released the top three buttons of his shirt. He’d also removed his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves.
He smiled but his expression was cautious. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s fine. I just dozed off.” She yawned and sat up slowly.
“You can go back to sleep.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Did you eat something?”
She shook her head.
“Will you eat something now? I could make you an omelet.”
“My stomach is in knots.”
He was irritated but refused to argue, for he knew a much bigger argument was on the horizon. “I have a present for you.”
“Gabriel, a present is the last thing I need right now.”
“I disagree. But it can wait.” He shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, never taking his eyes off of her. “You’re wearing a scarf and sitting by a roaring fire, yet you’re so pale. Are you cold?”
“No.” Julia reached up to remove her pashmina, but Gabriel’s long, slender fingers caught her hand.
“May I?”
She withdrew her hand and nodded warily.