Every time you moved, the most incredible feeling passed through
me. I couldn’t open my eyes.”
Gabriel smiled to himself in relief and pressed his lips to her
forehead.
“That position is deeper. And don’t forget all our foreplay at the museum. I couldn’t keep my hands off you during dinner.”
“That’s because you knew I’d lost my panties.”
“That’s because I want you. Always.” He offered her a half-smile.
“Every time with you is better than the last,” she whispered.
His expression grew wistful. “But you never say my name.”
“I say your name all the time. It’s a wonder you haven’t come
up with a pet name you’d rather I use, such as Gabe, or Dante, or
The Professor.”
“That’s not what I meant. I mean you never say my name — when
you come.”
She lifted her chin so she could see his face. His expression
matched his tone, wistful and momentarily vulnerable. The confident mask had slipped.
“For me, your name is synonymous with orgasm. I’m going to
start calling them Emgasms.”
He laughed loudly, a hearty, chest-bouncing chuckle that required
Julia to sit up. She joined him in his laughter, grateful that his moment of melancholy had passed.
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“You have quite the sense of humor, Miss Mitchell.” He tilted her
chin upwards so he could worship her lips once more before relaxing into the pillows and drifting off to sleep.
Julia stayed awake a little longer as she contemplated the anx-
ious, insecure little boy who revealed himself at rare and unexpected moments.
The following morning Gabriel treated Julia to her preferred
breakfast at Café Perseo, a fine gelateria in the Piazza Signoria. They sat inside because normal December temperatures had returned and
it was rainy and cool.
One could sit by the square all day, every day, and watch the
world walk by. There were old buildings on the perimeter — the
Uffizi was around the corner. There was a tremendously impressive
fountain and beautiful statues, including a copy of Michelangelo’s David and a statue of Perseus holding the dismembered head of Medusa in front of a lovely loggia.
Julia avoided looking at Perseus as she ate her gelato. Gabriel
avoided looking at the legions of beautiful Florentine women in
order to watch his beloved. Hungrily.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a taste? Raspberry and lemon
are great together.” She held out a spoon where the two flavors
commingled.
“Oh I want a taste. But not of that.” His eyes glinted. “I prefer
something a trifle more exotic.” He nudged his espresso aside so he could take her hand in his. “Thank you for last night and this
morning.”
“I think I’m the one who should be thanking you, Professor.” She
squeezed his hand and busied herself with her breakfast, such as it was.
“I’m surprised there isn’t an outline of my body vaporized onto
the wall of our room.” She giggled, holding out a small spoonful of the frozen treat.
He allowed her to feed him, and when his tongue darted out to
lick his lips, she found herself light-headed. A bevy of images from earlier that morning flashed through her mind. And one remained.
O gods of sex-god boyfriends who enjoy pleasuring their lovers, thank you for this morning.
She swallowed hard. “You know, that was my first time.”
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Gabriel’s Rapture
“It won’t be your last. I promise.” Gabriel licked his lips provocatively, eager to make her squirm.
She leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek. But he was
having none of that. He snaked a hand to the back of her neck and
pulled her closer.
Her mouth was sweet with gelato and the unique taste that was
Julia. He groaned when he released her, wishing he could take her
back to the hotel for a repeat of last night’s performance, or perhaps to the museum…
“Can I ask you something?” She busied herself with her bowl so
she didn’t have to meet his gaze.
“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
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Sylvain Reynard
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 s
kin, 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
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Gabriel’s Rapture
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 meet-
ing 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.
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Sylvain Reynard
“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.”
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Gabriel’s Rapture
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.
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Sylvain Reynard
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.
&
nbsp; “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.”
“What did he say?”
“He said that you passed Christa’s dissertation proposal.”
“What else did he say?”
“He wished me a Merry Christmas and said that he was sending
something to me in Selinsgrove.”
Gabriel’s nostrils flared. “Why would he do that?”
“Because he’s my friend. It’s probably maple syrup, which I will
gladly give to my dad. Paul knows that I have a boyfriend and that I am very, very happy. I’ll forward the email to you, if you like.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Gabriel’s lips thinned visibly.
Julia crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You were eager to
have me spend time with Paul when Professor Pain was around.”
“That was different. And I don’t particularly wish to discuss her ever again.”
“Easy for you to say. You don’t keep running into people I’ve
slept with.”
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Gabriel’s Rapture
Gabriel glared.
Julia clapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. That was a
terrible thing to say.”
“As you may recall, I have run into at least one person with whom
you’ve been sexually involved.”
He turned and walked away, approaching the edge of the lookout.
She gave him a moment or two to himself, then she stood beside
him and cautiously wrapped her little finger around his. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t respond.
“Thank you for rescuing me from Simon.”
Gabriel scowled. “You know that I have a past. Do you intend
to keep bringing it up?”
She lowered her gaze to her shoes. “No.”
“That remark was beneath you.”
“I’m sorry.”
He kept his eyes trained on the city that was spread out before
them. Red tiled roofs shone in the sun, while Brunelleschi’s dome
dominated the view.
Julia decided to change the subject. “Christa was behaving
strangely at your last seminar. She seemed resentful. Do you think she knows about us?”
“She’s sour because I haven’t welcomed her outrageous advances.
But she met the deadline for her revised proposal and her work was acceptable.”
“So she wasn’t — blackmailing you?”
“Not every woman is your rival for me,” he snapped, pushing
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