he’d seen her was gone.
Her clothes were different, too. She’d always dressed well, with a preference for skirts and high heels fashioned by the latest designer. But today, she was clad in a long-sleeved blue top that was casual and plain, and she wore dark jeans with sandals. It had been years since Gabriel had seen her in casual clothes. He wondered what it meant.
He placed the drink in front of her and took his seat, his hands moving once again to wrap around his coffee mug. He focused on the black liquid, trying to figure out what to say.
“You look tired.” Her blue eyes fixed on him with concern.
Gabriel avoided her gaze, turning to look out the window. He wasn’t particularly interested in the Minneapolis scenery. He simply didn’t know how to begin.
“We were friends once.” She sipped her coffee and followed the path of his eyes, watching the cars that drove past. “You look as if you could use a friend.”
He turned his head, his eyes starkly blue behind the black frames of his glasses. “I’ve come to ask for your forgiveness.”
Her eyes widened and she placed her mug down on the table quickly, so as not to spill it.
“What?”
He swallowed loudly. “I never treated you the way a friend or a lover should be treated. I was callous and selfish.” He sat back in his chair and looked out the window again. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I wanted to see you and say that I’m sorry.”
Paulina tried unsuccessfully to pry her focus from his face and his clenched jaw, but she couldn’t. She was almost shaking, she was so surprised.
He watched the traffic pass and waited, waiting for her to say something. But she didn’t. At last, he met her gaze.
Her mouth was open, her eyes wide. Then she closed her mouth.
“We were involved for years, Gabriel, and you never once said you were sorry. Why now?”
He didn’t answer, just leveled his eyes, the muscle in his jaw the only movement in his face.
“It’s because of her, isn’t it?”
Gabriel said nothing. Facing Paulina was difficult enough. He couldn’t speak of what Julianne meant to him—of how much she’d changed him, and of how much he feared the possibility that she wouldn’t forgive him when he returned to her.
He accepted Paulina’s censure without argument. In his current state, he craved punishment and disapproval, for he was all too conscious of his own sin.
She watched his reaction, the emotions that moved across his face. He was in evident distress, something she’d not seen for some time.
“I moved home,” she volunteered, quietly. “I enrolled in a treatment program and I’m going to meetings. I’ve even been seeing a counselor.”
She looked at him carefully. “But you knew that, didn’t you? I’ve been sending reports to Carson’s secretary.”
“I knew, yes.”
“She changed you.”
“Sorry?”
“She’s changed you. She’s—tamed you.”
“This isn’t about her.”
“Oh, yes, it is. How long have we known each other? How long were we sleeping together? Never once did you ask me to forgive you for anything. Not even for—”
He interrupted her quickly. “I should have. I tried to make up for things with money. By taking care of you.”
Gabriel winced, even as he said the words. He was familiar, all too familiar, with the type of man who would act in such a way so as to cover up his sexual indiscretions.
Paulina picked up her coffee mug once again. “Yes, you should have. But I was a fool to settle for what we were. I couldn’t see my way out of it. But now I can. And I swear to God, Gabriel, I’m not going back.”
She pressed her lips together, as if she were trying not to say any more. Then, unexpectedly, she continued.
“All these years, I was worried that my parents would slam the door in my face. I made sure that the taxi waited in the driveway while I rang the doorbell.” She looked down at the table. “I didn’t make it that far. I was trying to navigate through the snow in my high heels when the front door opened and my mother came outside. She was still in her slippers.” Paulina’s voice caught and her eyes welled up with tears. “She ran to me, Gabriel. She ran to me and wrapped her arms around me. I realized before I even entered the house that I could have come home years ago and she would have greeted me exactly the same way.”
“The prodigal daughter,” Gabriel