“Of course.”
“Why did you say that I was your fiancée?”
“Fidanzata has multiple meanings.”
“The primary meaning is fiancée.”
“Ragazza doesn’t express the depth of my attachment.” Gabriel wiggled his toes in his new, tight shoes. His mouth twitched as he contemplated what to say next, if he should say anything at all. He elected to remain silent, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
Julia noticed what she perceived to be his physical discomfort. “I’m sorry about my heels.”
“What’s that?”
“I saw the marks on your backside when you were getting dressed this morning. I didn’t mean to injure you.”
He grinned wickedly. “Occupational hazard for those obsessed with high-heeled shoes. I wear my love scars with pride.”
“I’ll be more careful next time.”
“No, you damn well won’t.”
Julia’s eyes grew wide at the sudden flash of passion in his eyes.
He captured her lips with his before whispering in her ear, “I’m going to buy you a pair of boots with even higher heels, then I’m going to see what you can do with them.”
As they strolled across the Ponte Vecchio under a shared umbrella, Gabriel persisted in pulling her into shop after shop, trying to tempt her into accepting an extravagant gift of jewelry—Etruscan reproductions, Roman coins, gold necklaces, etc. But she would only smile and decline, pointing to Grace’s diamond earrings and saying that they were more than enough. Her lack of attachment to material things only made him want to heap them at her feet.
When they reached the center of the bridge, Julia tugged at his arm and led him to the edge so they could gaze out over the Arno.
“There is something you could buy for me, Gabriel.”
He peered over at her curiously, the crisp Florentine air flushing her cheeks. She was goodness, light and warmth and softness. But terribly, terribly stubborn.
“Name it.”
Julia paused to run her hand over the barrier that separated her from the edge of the bridge. “I want my scar removed.”
He was almost surprised. He knew that she was ashamed of Simon’s bite mark. He’d walked in on her applying concealer that morning, and she’d grown teary when he asked about it.
She avoided his eyes and continued. “I don’t like looking at it. I don’t like the fact that you have to look at it. I want it gone.”
“We could find a plastic surgeon in Philadelphia, while we’re home for Christmas.”
“Our time at home is so short. I couldn’t do that to my dad. Or to Rachel.”
Gabriel shifted the umbrella to his other hand and pulled her into a hug. He kissed her, trailing down to her neck until he made contact with the mark.
“I will gladly do this for you and more. You just have to ask. But I would like you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“I would like you to talk to someone. About what happened.”
Julia lowered her eyes. “I talk to you.”
“I meant someone who isn’t an ass. I can hire a doctor who will remove the scar from your skin, but no one can remove the scars on the inside. It’s important for you to realize that. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
“I won’t be. And stop calling yourself names. It upsets me.”
He conceded her point with a nod of the head. “I think it would help if you had someone to talk to—about everything. Tom, your mother, him, and me.” He gave her a pained look. “I am a difficult man. I know that. I think if you had someone to talk to, it would help.”
She closed her eyes. “I will, but only if you agree to do the same thing.”
He stiffened.
She opened her eyes, speaking quickly. “I know that you don’t want to, and believe me, I understand. But if I’m going to do this, you need to do it too. You were really angry last night, and even though I know you weren’t angry with me, I had to bear the brunt of it.”
“I tried to make up for it afterward.” He gritted his teeth.
She reached up to stroke his agitated jaw. “Of course. But it bothered me that you were so upset over an unsolicited pass from a stranger. And that you thought that sex would relieve your anger and mark me as yours.”
Gabriel’s face registered shock, for he had never interpreted his actions in that way.
“I would never hurt you.” He squeezed her hand.
“I know.”
Gabriel looked upset, and the panic in his eyes didn’t abate when Julia reached up to pet his hair a little.
“We’re quite a pair, aren’t we? With our scars and histories and all our problems. A tragic romance, I suppose.” She smiled and tried to make light of their situation.
“The only tragedy would be losing you,” he said, kissing her lightly.
“You’ll only lose me if you stop loving me.”
“I’m a lucky man then. I’ll be able to keep you forever.”
He kissed her once more before wrapping his arms around her.
“Therapy was required when I went into rehab. I continued meeting with a therapist for a year or so afterward, in addition to going to weekly self-help meetings. It isn’t as if I haven’t gone down that road.”
Julia frowned. “You’re in recovery and you don’t go to meetings. I haven’t said much about it before, but that’s a serious problem. On top of that, you still drink.”