Gabriel's Rapture (Gabriel's Inferno #2) 8

“Of course I will.”

“Good. Perhaps we’ll be able to find a private corner of the museum so we can…”

“I’d like nothing more, Professor.” She winked.

Gabriel tugged at his collar involuntarily.

“Do you want to get married in Florence next summer? We could have the wedding while we’re visiting the exhibition.”

“No.”

His eyes sought the ground as disappointment spread across his face.

“Next summer would be far too late. What about next month?”

Gabriel’s eyes flew to hers. “I’d marry you tomorrow, if I could. But are you sure? It doesn’t leave us much time to plan a wedding.”

“I want our wedding to be small. I’m tired of living alone. I want to be with you.” She brushed his ear with her lips. “And it isn’t only because I want to have you warm my bed.”

A growl escaped Gabriel’s chest, and he kissed her firmly. She sighed into his mouth, and the two embraced warmly before he pulled back.

“What about your studies?”

“Lots of graduate students are married. Even if I only see you in bed at night it will be more than I see you now. Please don’t make me wait.”

He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “As if the waiting wasn’t killing me as well. Where should we get married?”

“Assisi. It’s always been an important place for me, and I know it’s important to you too.”

“Then Assisi it is, as soon as possible. Honeymoon to be determined?” He lifted his eyebrows suggestively. “Or is there somewhere particular you’d like to go? Paris? Venice? Belize?”

“Anywhere would be wonderful as long as I’m with you.”

He squeezed her tightly. “Bless you for that. I’ll make it a surprise, then.”

She kissed him again and within moments, felt the world spinning around her. Everything fell away as she melted in his arms.

“I have something else I want to show you,” he said at length, dragging his lips from hers.

He clasped her hand in his and walked over to the old apple tree that stood on the edge of the clearing.

He turned to face her, eyes full of feeling. “The first time we met, I picked an apple from this tree.”

“I remember.”

“The apple represented what my life was like at that time—carnal, selfish, violent, a magnet for sin.”

Julia watched as he sank to one knee, pulling a golden apple out of his pocket.

“This apple represents what I’ve become—full of hope. And love.”

She looked at the apple before her eyes sought his.

“Has a man ever asked you to marry him before?”

She shook her head, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Then I’m glad I’m your first.”

He opened the apple like a magic box and Julia saw a sparkling diamond ring nestled against a fold of red velvet.

“I want to be your first and your last. I love you, Julianne. I offer you my heart and my life.

“Marry me. Be my wife, my friend, my lover, and my guide. Be my blessed Beatrice and my adored Julianne.” His voice wavered slightly. “Say you’ll be mine. Forever.”

“Yes,” Julia managed, before the tears overtook her.

Gabriel removed the ring from the apple and placed it gently on her finger before caressing her hand with his lips.

“I chose this ring a long time ago, when I picked out the wedding bands. But it can be returned.” His voice was wistful. “I know you might want to choose your own rings.”

Julia examined the two-and-a-half-carat, cushion-cut diamond in its platinum setting. The ring was old-fashioned with smaller, bead set diamonds that surrounded the central stone and graduated side stones that decorated the band. Although it was far larger and more ornate than she had ever dreamed of, it was perfect because he chose it for her.

“I choose this one,” she said.

He stood up and she flew into his arms.

“I’ve wanted you forever. Since I first saw your picture,” she said as her happy tears spilled onto his chest. “I wanted you even before I knew you.”

“I wanted you when I didn’t even know your name—just your goodness. And now I get to keep my Beatrice forever.”

Chapter 53

A few days later, Paul received an email from Julia announcing her engagement. It made him ill. Reading and re-reading her words didn’t ameliorate his situation. Not one bit. But he did so anyway, if not to torture himself then to have her new status indelibly impressed on his mind.

Dear Paul,

I hope this email finds you well. I’m sorry it took me so long to answer your last message. Grad school is kicking my butt, and I feel so behind in everything. But I’m loving it. (By the way, thank you for the recommendation of Ross King’s books. I don’t have much time to read these days, but I’m going to pick up Brunelleschi’s Dome.)

One of the reasons I don’t have much time to read is because I’m engaged. Gabriel has asked me to marry him and I said yes. We’d hoped to get married quickly, but were unable to book the basilica in Assisi until January 21st. Gabriel has personal ties with the Franciscans, which is the only reason we were able to book the basilica in so short a time.

I’m very happy. Please be happy for me.

I’m sending your invitation to your apartment in Toronto. We’re also inviting Katherine Picton.

I’ll understand if you can’t or don’t want to attend, but it was important to me to invite the people I care about. Gabriel has rented a house in Umbria for the wedding guests to stay in before and after the wedding. You’d be most welcome. I know my father would be happy to see you again too.

You’ve been nothing but a good friend to me, and I hope that someday I’ll be able to repay the favor.

With affection,

Julia.

P.S. Gabriel didn’t want me to mention this, but he’s the one who persuaded Professor Picton to supervise your dissertation. I asked her but she refused. Surely he isn’t as bad as you thought?

Paul’s gratitude for Gabriel’s generosity didn’t erase the sudden sharp pain he felt at the realization that he’d just lost Julia. Again.

Yes, he’d already lost her, but before Gabriel’s return there was the possibility that Julia would change her mind, even if that possibility was remote. Somehow the knowledge that she was going to marry him smarted so much more than if she had been marrying, say, some other schmuck called Gabriel. Like Gabriel-the-plumber or Gabriel-the-cable-guy.

Shortly after she emailed Paul, Julia received a package in her mailbox at Harvard. Seeing that it was postmarked in Essex Junction, Vermont, she opened it eagerly.

Paul had sent her a limited edition copy of The Velveteen Rabbit. He’d written a short inscription to her on the flyleaf, which tugged at her heart, and enclosed a letter.

Dear Julia,

I was surprised by your news. Congratulations.

Thanks for inviting me to your wedding but I won’t be able to attend. My father had a heart attack a few days ago and is in the hospital. I’m helping out on the farm. (My mother says hello, by the way. She is making something for you as a wedding present. Where should she send it? I’m assuming you won’t be living on campus once you’re married)

From the first time I met you, I wanted you to be happy. To be more confident. To have a good life. You deserve these things, and I’d hate to see you throw them away.

I wouldn’t be your friend if I didn’t ask you if Emerson is what you really want. You shouldn’t settle for less than the best. And if you have any doubt about it, you shouldn’t marry him.

I promise I’m not trying to be an asshole.

Yours,

Paul.

With sadness, Julia folded up Paul’s letter and placed it back inside the book.

Chapter 54

Despite the fact that Tom gave his blessing to Julia and Gabriel (albeit begrudgingly), conflict ensued when the happy couple announced the destination of their wedding.

While the Clarks were only too glad to spend a week in Italy during the winter, Tom, who had never traveled outside of North America, was less than enthused. As the father of the bride, he’d intended on paying for his only daughter’s wedding even if he had to mortgage his new house in order to do so. Julia wouldn’t hear of him doing such a thing.

Though the wedding would be small, the estimated costs were high enough that they would effectively damage Tom financially if he paid for everything. Gabriel was more than comfortable covering the costs, much to Tom’s chagrin. It was more important to Gabriel that Julia have the day of her dreams than for her father to be placated.

Julia tried to smooth over the conflict between the two men by pointing out that there were things that her father could pay for, such as her wedding dress and the flowers.

In late November, she was on Newbury Street in Boston when she saw the dress in the window of an elegant boutique. The dress was ivory silk organza with a v-neck and little wisps of sleeves that sat high on the shoulders. While the top was covered in lace, the skirt was full and layered like a cloud.

Without further thought, she walked into the shop and asked to try it on. The shopkeeper complimented her, saying that Monique Lhuillier’s gowns were very popular.

Julia didn’t recognize the designer’s name, and she didn’t look at the price tag because there wasn’t one. When she stood in front of the mirrors in the dressing room, she knew. This was her dress. It was classically beautiful and would complement the color of her skin and the shape of her body. And Gabriel would adore the fact that much of her upper back would be exposed. Tastefully, of course.

She sent a picture of herself in the gown to Tom via her iPhone, asking him what he thought. He called her immediately, telling her that he’d never seen a bride as absolutely beautiful as she.

Tom asked to speak to the boutique manager, and without Julia discovering the substantial price, he made arrangements to purchase the dress. Knowing that he was able to buy his only daughter the dress of her dreams enabled him to accept the fact that Gabriel would be paying for most of the wedding.

After saying good-bye to Tom, Julia spent several hours shopping for the rest of her trousseau. Among other things, she chose a veil that was almost ankle length, a pair of satin heels that she could walk in successfully, and a long, white velvet cape that would protect her and her dress from the January weather in Assisi. Then she went home.

Two weeks before the wedding, Tom called Julia to ask her an important question. “I know the invitations have been sent out but would there be room for one more?”

Julia was surprised.

“Sure. Is there a long lost cousin I wasn’t aware of?”

“Not exactly,” hedged Tom.

“Then who?”

He took a very deep breath and held it.

“Dad, spit it out. Who do you want to bring?” Julia closed her eyes and silently begged the gods of daughters whose fathers were single to intervene on her behalf and keep Deb Lundy from attending her wedding or worse—getting back together with her father.

“Um, Diane.”