Gabriel’s Inferno Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard Page 0,388

that I want to marry you. Did he mention that over dinner?”

She hesitated. “He told me that I was his little girl and that he wanted to protect me. Then he said some things about you that weren’t very complimentary.

“But he admitted I’m an adult and that I need to live my own life. He said it was clear to him that you’d changed—even since he’d seen you last. I think you surprised him. And he isn’t used to being surprised.”

“I’m sorry.” Gabriel’s voice sounded pained.

“Sorry for what?”

“For not being the kind of man you could bring home to your father.”

“Listen, my dad thought the sun shone out of Simon’s ass. He isn’t exactly the best judge of character. And he doesn’t know you as I know you.”

“But he’s your father.”

“I’ll handle him.”

Gabriel was quiet for a moment as he contemplated her response. “My conversation with Tom was a good warm up for dinner with my family.”

“Oh, no. How did that go?”

He paused. “Talking to Scott on the telephone is one thing, but having dinner with him is something else.”

“He’s protective of me. I’ll talk to him.”

“Dad asked me to offer a toast to Mom at the wedding reception.”

“Oh, darling. That’s going to be difficult. Are you sure you want to do that?”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment.

“I have some things I need to say. Things almost thirty years in the making. Now’s my chance.”

“So you’ve kissed and made up with everyone?”

“Basically. Dad and I made our peace on the telephone weeks ago.”

“Did you meet Tammy’s little boy?”

Gabriel snorted into the phone. “He soiled me as soon as I picked him up. Perhaps Scott coached him to make his feelings about me known.”

“Quinn peed on you?”

“No, he spilled milk all over my new Armani suit.”

Julia dissolved into peals of laughter at the thought of the very elegant, very particular professor being soiled by his brother’s girlfriend’s son.

“Is it wrong that I didn’t care that much? I mean about the suit.”

Julia stopped laughing abruptly. “You didn’t care? What did you do with it?”

“The concierge sent it to be dry-cleaned. I’ve been assured that milk will come out of wool crepe, but I’m not holding my breath. Suits can be replaced, people can’t.”

“You surprise me, Professor.”

“How so?”

“You’re sweet.”

“I try to be sweet with you,” he whispered.

“That’s true. But I’ve never seen you around children.”

“No,” he said quickly. “You’d make beautiful babies, Julianne. Little girls and boys with big brown eyes and pink cheeks.”

Julia’s sharp intake of breath whistled in Gabriel’s ear.

His voice almost caught in his throat. “Is it premature to have this conversation?”

She didn’t answer.

“Julianne?”

“My hesitation about marriage isn’t over having children. It comes from what happened between us and being a child of divorced parents. They loved each other once, I think, and ended up hating each other.”

“My parents were married happily for years.”

“That’s true. If I could have a marriage like theirs—”

“We can have a marriage like theirs,” Gabriel corrected her. “That’s what I want. And I want it with you.”

He tried to communicate with his tone how much he desired a marriage like the one Richard and Grace enjoyed. How he was trying desperately to become the kind of man who could give Julia that kind of marriage.

She exhaled slowly. “If you’d asked me to marry you before, I would have said yes. But I can’t right now. There’s so much we need to work through, and I’m already stressed out about grad school.”

“I don’t mean to stress you out.” His voice was soft but slightly strained.

“I thought you made your decision about having children.”

“There’s always adoption.” He sounded defensive.

She was quiet for a moment.

“The thought of having a little blue eyed baby with you makes me happy.”

“Really?”

“Really. Seeing what Grace and Richard did with you, I’d be interested in adopting someday. Just not while I’m a student.”

“The adoption would have to be private. I doubt a respectable agency would place a child with a drug addict.”

“Do you really want children?”

“With you? Absolutely. If we were married, I’d consider having my vasectomy reversed. It was done many years ago so I don’t know how successful a reversal might be. But once we’re married I’d like to try—with your blessing.”

“I think it’s premature to have that conversation.” The arm she was leaning on accidentally slipped off the side of the bathtub, splashing into the water.

Scheisse, she thought, too worn out to call on a god to come to her rescue.

“Are you taking