Gabriel scowled, but didn’t bother to argue.
“Why won’t you make some promises to Julia? I’m sure she’s anxious about what the future might hold. Marriage is a sacrament that exists partially to protect women from sexual exploitation. If you take that protection away from her, then she is little more than your mistress, no matter what you choose to call her. And she has seen what happened—what is happening—to Paulina.”
“That isn’t going to happen to Julianne.”
“How does she know that?” Richard tapped his fingers on the top of his desk. “Marriage is more than a piece of paper. It’s a mystery. In fact, there’s a Midrash that suggests that marriage is made in heaven between soul mates. Don’t you want to be with Julia forever?”
“What I want is immaterial. I won’t rush her into making a life-changing decision in the middle of the academic year,” Gabriel muttered, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s too soon.”
“Pray that you don’t wait until it’s too late,” Richard countered, gazing sadly at Grace’s photograph.
With these words, then, ringing in his ears, Gabriel sat watching his soul mate sleep on Christmas morning.
As if she could hear his thoughts, she stirred, a nameless anxiety wafting over her. A moment later she rolled toward him, her fingers making contact with the silk at his hip.
In the darkness of the room, Gabriel looked like a gargoyle—a gray, motionless figure that stared back at her from behind his glasses in stony silence. It took a moment for Julia to recognize him.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”
Her face creased in puzzlement. “But you’re sitting half-naked in the dark.”
He gave her a tentative smile. “I’m waiting for you to wake up.”
“Why?”
“So we can open presents. But it’s early. Go back to sleep.”
She slid closer to him, searching for and finding his hand. She kissed the back of it and pulled it toward her heart.
He smiled and pressed his palm flat against her chest so he could feel her heart beat. His face grew serious.
“Forgive me for last night.” He cleared his throat roughly. “I don’t want you to think that sex is all I want. It isn’t.”
Her smile faded. “I know that.”
He moved his hand to stroke her eyebrows with his fingers. “I desire you, obviously. It’s difficult for me not to touch you, not to want to be with you that way.”
His hand floated across her cheek, hesitantly. “But I love you, and I want you to be with me because you want to be. Not because you feel obligated.”
She leaned into his hand. “I don’t feel obligated. There were so many times when you could have pressured me, like the night we were in your old room and I—I took my top off. But you were patient. And when it was our first time, you were wonderful. I’ve been lucky to have you as my lover.”
She gave him a sleepy smile. “Why don’t you come over here? I think we could both use some rest.”
Gabriel slid under the covers and cuddled close to his beloved. When her regular breathing indicated that she’d fallen asleep, he whispered a few promises to her in Italian.
When Julia awoke she was treated to breakfast in bed. Then she was nagged impatiently until she agreed to accompany Gabriel to the sitting room. He was so excited he was practically bouncing.
(In a very dignified and professorial way, of course, despite his lack of shirt.)
A small, Charlie Brown Christmas tree had been conveniently “borrowed” from the bed and breakfast’s parlor and was placed in the center of the room. Several brightly colored parcels rested beneath it. Two large, red stockings embroidered with the names “Julianne” and “Gabriel” were each sitting in a corner of the loveseat.
“Merry Christmas.” He kissed her forehead, feeling very proud of himself.
“I’ve never had a stocking.”
He led her to the loveseat and placed the stocking in her lap. It was filled with candy and panties that had Yuletide images on them. And in the toe was a flash drive that contained video of a certain tango against the wall at the Royal Ontario Museum.
“Why haven’t you had a stocking before?”
“Sharon didn’t always remember Christmas and my dad didn’t think of it.” She shrugged.
He shook his head. He hadn’t had stockings either, before he came to live with the Clarks.
Julia pointed to a couple of presents that were wrapped in red and green plaid and sitting on the coffee table. “Why don’t you open your gifts first?”
Gabriel beamed and sat on the floor by the tree, cross-legged. He picked up a small box and tore at the paper with abandon.
Julia laughed at the sight of him, this very proper professor sitting in his spectacles and underwear, attacking his presents like a four-year-old.