She regarded him, his eyes, his expression. There was nothing about him that seemed insincere.
“Yes,” she said slowly. “I’m just wondering why you’re asking for this now.”
He retreated back into his chair, his hands clutching his mug.
“You were my friend,” he whispered. “And look at how I treated you.”
Paulina wiped at her eyes.
Gabriel leaned forward.
“And there’s Maia.”
An involuntary cry escaped Paulina’s lips.
She was like him, in this respect. The mention of their child’s name caused immediate anguish. When the name was used without warning, the pain was especially sharp.
“I can’t talk about her.” Paulina closed her eyes.
“She’s happy now.”
“You know I don’t believe that. When you’re dead, you’re dead. You go to sleep and never wake up.”
“I know that isn’t true.”
At Gabriel’s tone, Paulina’s eyes snapped open. There was something in his eyes. Something he was trying to hide, but that he clung to with more conviction than she’d ever seen him manifest before.
“I know I have no right to ask you. I know that I’m troubling you by being here.” He cleared his throat. “But I had to say these things in person. I wronged you. I was monstrous. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
Now she was crying, tears slipping from her eyes and down her perfect face.
“Stop.”
“Paulina. We did this one, beautiful thing together. Let’s not mourn her by living empty, wasted lives.”
“How dare you! You come to me to ease your conscience and say something like that!”
Gabriel ground his teeth together.
“I’m not here to ease my conscience. I’m here to make amends.”
“My baby is dead and I can’t have another. Make amends for that.”
He tensed. “I can’t.”
“You never loved me. I wasted my life on a man who merely tolerated me. And only because I was good in bed.”
A muscle jumped in Gabriel’s jaw.
“Paulina, you have many admirable qualities, not least of which are your intelligence, your generosity, and your sense of humor. Don’t sell yourself short.”
She laughed mirthlessly. “In the end, it didn’t matter. No matter how smart I am, I was dumb enough to try to change you. I failed.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I moved on with my life and you come here to dredge it all up.”
“That wasn’t my intent.”
“But you did it just the same.” She wiped her eyes with her hands, shifting her body away from him. “You get to go home to your young, pretty girlfriend knowing that she could give you a child, if that’s what you want. Vasectomies are easily reversed, but what happened to me can never be undone.”
Gabriel hung his head.
“I’m sorry. For everything.”
Reluctantly, he stood to his feet. He moved to walk past her, but she caught his hand.
“Wait.”
Gabriel looked down at her, his eyes wary.
“I met someone. He’s a professor. He helped me get a job teaching English literature while I finish my PhD by extension.”
“I’m glad.”
“I don’t need your money. I won’t be withdrawing from the trust fund again.
“Keith is a widower with two little girls. One is seven and the other is five. Can you imagine? They call me Auntie Paulina. I get to dress them and do their hair and have tea parties with their dolls. I met someone who loves me. And his girls need me. So even though I can’t have a child, I’m still going to be a mother. Or at the very least, an auntie. I forgive you, Gabriel. But I won’t have this conversation again. I made my peace with the past, as much as I can.”
“Agreed.”
She gave him a genuine smile, and he brushed his lips against the top of her head.
“Good-bye, Paulina. Be happy.”
He released her hand and walked away.
Chapter Forty
August 2011
Cambridge, Massachusetts
Going for a run?” Julia glanced up from the breakfast table to see Gabriel clad in his jogging clothes and shoes. He was wearing a crimson Harvard T-shirt and black shorts that hung loosely from his hips.
“That’s right.” He crossed the room in order to kiss her.
“So—are we going to talk soon?”
Gabriel turned away and began disentangling the earphones that connected with his iPhone. “About what?”
“About what’s bothering you?”
“Not right now, no.” He removed his sunglasses from their case and quickly cleaned them with the fabric of his shirt.
Julia bit her tongue, for her patience was almost at an end.
“Have you made an appointment to see your doctor?”
“Here we go,” he muttered, placing his palms flat on the kitchen island and leaning into them, head bent and eyes closed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
He didn’t move.
“No, I haven’t called the doctor.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t need to see him.”
She uncrossed her arms. “But what about the vasectomy reversal? You’ll need to speak with him about that.”
“No, I won’t.” He straightened, nonchalantly picking up his sunglasses and placing them on his face.