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.”
“I was a cocaine addict, not an alcoholic.”
She paused, searching his eyes. It was as if she’d uncovered an old medieval map that outlined the edge of the world with the words here there be dragons.
“We both know that Narcotics Anonymous strongly suggests that addicts don’t drink.” She sighed. “As much as I will try to help, some things are beyond me. As much as sex with you pleases me, I don’t want to become your new drug of choice. I can’t fix things.”
“Is that what you think? That I use sex to fix things?” His question was in earnest, and so Julia resisted the urge to respond with sarcasm.
“I think that you used to use sex to fix things. You said as much to me once, remember? You used sex to combat your loneliness. Or to punish yourself.”
A dark shadow passed over Gabriel’s features. “It isn’t like that with you.”
“But when a person is upset, old patterns of behavior emerge. It’s true of me too, except my coping mechanisms are different.” She kissed him softly but long enough for his panic to recede and for him to kiss her back.
When they pulled apart they stood wrapped around one another until Julia decided to break the silence. “Your lecture last night reminded me of something.” She pulled her phone from her purse and quickly scrolled through some pictures. “Here.”
He took the phone from her hand and gazed at an exquisite painting. In it, St. Francesca Romana cradled an infant child with the assistance of the Virgin Mary, while an angel looked on.
“It’s beautiful.” He returned her phone.
“Gabriel,” she said softly. “Look at the painting.”
He did. And the strangest feeling passed over him.
She began to speak in a low voice. “I’ve always loved this painting. I thought it was because there are similarities between Gentileschi and Caravaggio. But it’s more than that. St. Frances lost some of her children to the plague. This painting is supposed to portray one of her visions of what happened to those children.”
She searched Gabriel’s eyes to see if he grasped her meaning. But he hadn’t.
“When I look at this painting, I think of your baby, Maia. Grace is holding her, surrounded by angels.” Julia pointed to the figures in the painting. “See? The baby is safe and loved. That’s what Paradise is like. You don’t have worry.”
Julia looked up into his face. His pained, beautiful face. Gabriel had tears in his eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was trying to comfort you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, gripping him tightly.
Eventually, he wiped at his eyes. He hid his face in her hair, feeling grateful and relieved.
The following afternoon, the rain stopped. So the couple took a taxi up to the Piazzale Michelangelo, which provided a sweeping view of the city. They could have taken a city bus like regular people, but Gabriel was not like regular people.
(Few Dante specialists are.)
“What did Rachel say in her email?” he asked as they admired the tiled roof of the Duomo.
Julia fidgeted with her fingernails. “She and Aaron said hello. They wanted to know if we were happy.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “Is that all?”
“Um, no.”
“So?”
She shrugged. “They said that Scott had a girlfriend. That was about it.”
“Good for Scott.” He chuckled. “Was there anything else?”
“Why do you ask?”
He cocked his head to one side. “Because I can tell when you’re hiding something.”
He began to run his fingers up and down the soft flesh at her waist, a particularly ticklish spot.
“You aren’t going to do that in public.”
“Oh, yes I am.” He grinned and began moving his fingers with purpose, trying to tickle her.
She started giggling and trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but he held her close.
“Come on, Julianne. Tell me what Rachel said.”
“Stop tickling,” she gasped, “and I’ll tell you.”
Gabriel stilled his hands.
She took a deep breath. “She wanted to know if we’d, um, slept together.”
“Oh, really?” His lips turned up into a half-smile. “And what did you say?”
“I told the truth.”
He searched her eyes. “Anything else?”
“She said she hoped you were behaving yourself and that I was happy. And I said yes—on both counts.” She waited for a moment, thinking about whether or not she should mention the email from a certain Vermont farm boy.
“But there’s something else. Go ahead.” He was still smiling indulgently.
“Well, Paul emailed me.”
Gabriel scowled. “What? When?”
“The day of your lecture.”
“Why didn’t you mention this before?” he fumed.
“Because of this.” She gestured to the irritation visible on his face. “I knew it would upset you, and I didn’t want to do that when you had to speak in front of a room full of important people.”