“Do you love her?”
Gabriel shook his head. “I don’t think my feelings count as love, although I feel something for her. She was never familiar to me, much to my shame. But I couldn’t abandon her. Not when her family was so far away and they refused to help. I was the cause of her problems and the possibility that she’ll never have another child.” His voice grew uneven, and he shivered.
“Is that why you decided not to have children?”
“An eye for an eye, remember. When she cried in my arms and told me, I made the decision. I had a hard time convincing a doctor to agree to perform the procedure; they all argued that I was too young and that I would change my mind. But finally, I found someone to do it. Strangely, it comforted me at the time.”
He reached his hand up to caress the curve of Julia’s cheek. “I told her about you. She has always been jealous, but she knows I can’t give her what she wants. Our relationship is—complicated. She will always be part of my life, Julianne. I need you to realize that. That is, if you still…”
She pressed their lips together. “Of course I still love you. You’re supporting her and helping her whenever she gets into trouble. That’s the honorable thing to do.”
“Believe me, Julianne, I am far from honorable.”
“Would you…tell me about your tattoo?”
He sat up so that he could remove his shirt, which he dropped unceremoniously onto the Persian carpet. He reclined on her lap and looked up into her eyes, which radiated acceptance and concern.
“I had it done in Boston after I was released from rehab.”
Julia kissed the dragon once again, very, very gently.
Gabriel inhaled sharply at the feeling of her mouth against his naked flesh.
She moved her hands to stroke his hair, hoping it would comfort him. “What does the dragon represent?”
“The dragon is me or the drugs or both. The heart is mine, and it’s broken, obviously. Maia will always be in my heart. You probably think it’s horrible—to have such a morbid and ugly thing on my body. Permanently.”
“No, Gabriel, I don’t think that. It’s like…a memorial.”
“Paulina was about five months pregnant when she lost the baby. She was not in her right mind and neither was I, so we didn’t have a funeral. A couple of years ago I had a headstone erected for Maia in Boston.” He grasped Julia’s hand in his and kissed her palm.
“She isn’t buried there.” His voice was pained.
“She wouldn’t be there, anyway, Gabriel. She’s with Grace now.”
He paused and stared at her as his eyes filled with tears again. “Thank you for that,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her hand once more. “There’s a stone angel on either side of the headstone. I wanted it to be beautiful.”
“I’m sure it’s lovely.”
“You’ve already received part of her memorial.”
She looked puzzled.
“Your bursary. I named it for her—Maia Paulina Emerson.”
Julia wiped a tear that sprang suddenly from her eye. “I’m so sorry I tried to give it back to you. I didn’t know.”
Gabriel reached up and kissed her nose. “I know that, my love. At the time, I wasn’t ready to explain how significant the bursary was. I only wanted you to have it. No one else was worthy.” He kissed her again softly.
“I should tell you that I asked Rachel about it. She had no idea.”
“No one knows about Maia and Paulina except for Richard. And Grace. I was so ashamed of everything. They thought it would be enough for Scott and Rachel to know about the drugs. No one knows about the tattoo, however. You’re the only one.”
She tangled her fingers in his hair, willing him to find peace. “Your Puccini scared me,” she whispered.
“It seemed…fitting.”
She shook her head.
“The way I treated Paulina. She loved me for years, and I couldn’t love her back.” He shrugged awkwardly and shifted his gaze so that his intensity burned into hers. “I would never treat you like a butterfly, like something I’ve captured for my own amusement. I’d never pin you to a card and pull off your wings.”
She shook her head as a pained look crossed her pretty face. “Gabriel, please. I trust you. You are not Puccini’s Pinkerton. I know that.”
In proof of her declaration, she kissed him, moving her mouth in concert with his until she had to pull back to draw breath.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.
“Maybe we don’t deserve each other, but I can choose who I love. And I choose you.”
He frowned as if he didn’t believe her.
“Please let me love you.” Her voice cracked on the last two words, and a stray tear pushed down her cheek.