Gabriel’s Inferno Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard Page 0,447

wait.” Paul grinned. “And if he won’t, then kick him to the curb.”

She looked over at him in surprise.

“Paul, I don’t think that—”

He interrupted her. “Seriously, Julia. If your husband loves you, then he needs to wake the fuck up and cut out the barefoot-and-pregnant bullshit.”

Her brow furrowed. “He doesn’t want that.”

“Then you have no reason to feel guilty. You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you. You don’t have to choose between grad school and a family. You can have both.”

“I’m not the only person whose dreams count.”

“Perhaps not.” Paul lowered his voice, his eyes fixed on hers. “I’m not exactly objective when it comes to you.”

“I know,” said Julia, softly. “You’ve been a good friend. Thank you.”

“No thanks needed.” His voice grew gruff.

“Friends are in short supply. Yesterday, Christa told almost everyone about what happened in Toronto. I was humiliated.”

“I wish someone would shut her up. Permanently.”

“Gabriel tried. They made a scene. Then Professor Picton arrived and threatened to throw Christa out.”

Paul whistled. “I’m sorry I missed that. Picton and Christa in a steel-cage death match? We could have sold popcorn.”

He caught sight of Julia’s face, which was lined with distress.

“I don’t mean to be a jerk.”

“You aren’t a jerk.”

He continued tapping his foot under the table, an expression of discomfort.

“I said some stupid stuff in the email I sent before you got married. I refused to come to the wedding. That’s the behavior of a jerk.”

Julia’s eyes widened. “You told me you couldn’t come because your dad was sick.”

The tempo of his foot increased.

“That’s true—my dad was sick. But that wasn’t the reason I didn’t come to your wedding.” His eyes met hers. “I couldn’t watch you marry him.”

Paul took in her troubled expression and pulled his chair closer to the table.

“I know you’re married and I would never do anything to mess with that. But God help me, I couldn’t watch you marry him. I’m sorry.”

“Paul, I—”

He lifted a hand to silence her.

“I’m not waiting in the wings. But it’s hard for me to see you with him. And to hear that the rumors are still swirling around you—rumors that are his fault, not yours—and that he’s pressuring you to have a baby when you just started your program . . . Fuck.” He shook his head. “When is he going to wake up and realize that he married an incredible woman and that he needs to care for her?”

“He does care for me. He isn’t who you think he is.”

Paul leveled his dark eyes at hers.

“For your sake, I hope not.”

“He volunteers at the Italian Home for Children. He’s done humanitarian work with the poor. He’s changed.”

“He isn’t much of a humanitarian if he can’t see that his wife needs time before she becomes a mother.”

“He sees it. I’m the one who’s struggling. It’s hard to withhold something from someone you love, knowing that it would make him happy. And I’m happy, too,” she whispered. “You recognized it yourself. I know he has his faults, but so do I. He’d give me the world if he could fit it in his pocket, and he never, ever, lets me fall.”

Paul looked away, his knee bouncing under the table.

Chapter Fifteen

Paul’s paper was well received, if not a little short in Gabriel’s estimation. He noted with grim satisfaction that both Paul and Julia appeared uneasy after their lunch, as if things hadn’t gone quite as they’d expected.

If Gabriel wanted to quiz Julia for details, he hid it well. He greeted her warmly when she returned, and they sat together during Paul’s presentation.

Soon, it was Julia’s turn. Professor Patel, one of the conference organizers, introduced her, dubbing her a rising star at Harvard. Gabriel’s grin widened as he saw Christa seethe.

The audience included fifty academics, in various stages of their careers. Professor Picton and Professor Marinelli sat in the front row near Gabriel. All three smiled at Julia encouragingly.

With uncertain fingers, she placed the pages of her paper on top of the lectern. In contrast with it, her petite form seemed even smaller. Professor Patel adjusted the microphone downward so that it would catch her voice.

She looked young and pale and nervous. Gabriel caught her chewing at the inside of her mouth and he silently willed her not to do so. He was grateful when she stopped.

With her eyes fixed on his, she took a deep breath and began.

“The title of my presentation is ‘The Silence of St. Francis: A Witness to Fraud.’”

“In canto twenty-seven of Dante’s