Gabriel sighed deeply as he released her and pressed his lips gently to her forehead.
“Open your eyes.”
Julia looked up into a pair of blue orbs that were startlingly clear and very emotional, but she could not decipher the emotions. He smiled and pressed his lips to her forehead again before rolling onto his back and gazing up at the stars.
“What are you thinking?” She shifted herself so that she was curled up at his side, close to but not touching him with her body.
“I was thinking about how I waited for you. I waited and waited, and you never came.” He smiled at her sadly.
“I’m sorry, Gabriel.”
“You’re here now. Apparuit iam beatitudo vestra.”
“I don’t know what that means.” She sounded shy.
“It means now your blessedness appears. But really, it should be now my
blessedness appears. Now that you’re here.” He pulled her closer, snaking his arm beneath her neck and down to her waist where he splayed his hand, fingers wide, at the small of her back. “For the rest of my life, I’ll dream of hearing your voice breathe my name.”
Julia smiled at herself in the darkness.
“Have you ever fallen asleep in the arms of a boy before, Beatrice?”
She shook her head.
“Then I’m glad I’m your first.” He pulled her so that her head rested on his chest near his heart, and her delicate body molded perfectly to his side. “Like Adam’s rib,” he whispered into her hair.
“Do you have to leave?” she whispered back, running her hands hesitantly over his chest, up and down and back and forth.
“Yes, but not tonight.”
“Will you come back?” Her voice was almost a whimper.
Gabriel sighed deeply. “I’m going to be thrown out of Paradise tomorrow, Beatrice. Our only hope is that you find me afterward. Look for me in Hell.”
He gently rolled her onto her back and placed his hands on either side of her hips, hovering over her — eyes wide — staring longingly and intensely down into her very soul.
And then he brought his lips to hers…
Chapter 8
Rachel sat at Gabriel’s breakfast bar Thursday morning, drinking a latté and poring over French Vogue. It was not her normal reading material.
Rachel’s nightstand in Philadelphia was covered with books about politics, public relations, economics, and sociology, all in the hope that someday one of her superiors would ask for her opinion, rather than asking her to photocopy someone else’s. Now that she was on a leave of absence from her job, such as it was, she had time to read beyond mayoral politics.
She was feeling better this morning. Much better. Her conversation with Aaron the night before had gone well. Although he continued to be disappointed that the wedding was off, he told her over and over again that he would rather have her than a wedding.
“We don’t have to get married right away. We can delay the wedding until you’ve finished grieving. But I still want you, Rachel. I’ll always want you. As my wife, as my lover…Right now, I’ll take whatever I can get, because I love you. Come back to me.”
Aaron’s words burned through the haze of depression and grief that clouded Rachel’s mind. And suddenly, everything was clear. She’d thought she was running away from Scott and her father and the ghost of her mother.
But perhaps she was running from Aaron too, and to hear him voice those words…as if it was possible for her to leave him. As if she could even contemplate staying away from him.
His statement had almost broken Rachel’s heart and made her realize how much she truly wanted to be his wife. And how determined she was not to make him wait too long to be her husband while she sorted herself out. Life was too short to be miserable. Her mother had taught her that.
Gabriel entered the kitchen wearing his glasses, kissed the top of her head, and slid a wad of bills in front of her. She glanced at the cash suspiciously and flipped through it, her eyes widening.
“What’s this for?”
He cleared his throat and sat down next to her. “Aren’t you going shopping with Julianne?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s Julia, Gabriel. And no, we aren’t. She’s working on some project all day with a guy named Paul. Then he’s taking her to dinner.”
Angelfucker, thought Gabriel . The expletive sprang into his mind, unbidden and uncensored, and he tensed, rumbling low in his chest.
Rachel slid the money back to him and returned to her magazine.
He placed the cash in front of her again. “Take it.”
“Why?”
“Buy something for your friend.”
Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “Why? This is a lot of money.”
“I know,” he said quietly.
“This is five hundred dol ars. I know you have money to waste, but jeepers, Gabriel, that’s a bit much.”
“Have you seen her apartment?”
“No. Have you?”
He shifted on his bar stool. “Just for a moment. She was caught in the rain, and I drove her home and…”
“And?” Rachel draped an arm over his shoulder and leaned toward him with a delicious grin. “Spill.”
Gabriel pushed her arm off his shoulder and glared. “It wasn’t like that. But I saw her place briefly while I was dropping her off, and it’s awful.
She doesn’t even have a kitchen, for God’s sake.”