As he stood in the kitchen he cursed. He’d removed all the alcohol, with the exception of a couple of bottles of white wine reserved for Julianne. But wine would not satisfy his craving. Not tonight.
No, tonight he desired Scotch. The smoothness on his tongue, the quick burn in his mouth and throat, the latent warmth that would spread to his insides.
Just one. I just need one.
But it was no use. The Scotch was gone.
Gabriel thought of Julianne, upstairs in his bed. She was sleeping peacefully, unaware of the demons that plagued him. His very hands shook with desire.
He quickly ran through the twelve steps of Narcotics Anonymous before focusing on step two.
A power greater than myself can restore me.
Help me, God.
Please.
Gabriel closed his eyes and made the sign of the cross, his soul desperate and conflicted.
He knew that the keys to the Mercedes were steps away. He knew that he could drive to a local tavern and drink. Julia was sleeping soundly. He could return to their bed afterward and she would never know.
His eyes opened.
He reached for the keys.
Chapter Thirty-two
Gabriel?” Julia’s voice floated out to where he was seated on the balcony.
He was in a dark corner, brooding. He could hear her feet padding across the tiled floor and through the open doors as she approached him.
“What are you doing?” She eyed the cigarette he held in one of his hands and the drink in the other.
“Nothing.” He placed the cigarette to his lips and inhaled slowly before turning his face to the sky and blowing the smoke heavenward.
“You don’t smoke.”
“Of course I do. Usually, I choose cigars.”
She looked from his glass to his face, her eyes troubled.
He lifted his glass in mock salute.
“Don’t worry, it’s Coke.” He grimaced. “I’d prefer Laphroaig.”
“There isn’t any.”
“I know that,” he growled. “The house is bereft of alcohol except for wine.”
“Only white. You prefer red.” Her eyebrows knitted together. “Did you go looking?”
“What if I did?” he snapped.
Julia began chewing at her bottom lip.
Gabriel put his cigarette in the ashtray and reached up, pressing his thumb against her mouth.
“Don’t.” He freed her lip, then picked up his cigarette, turning away from her.
Silence stretched between them, an immeasurable distance, until finally, she spoke.
“Good night, Gabriel.”
“Wait.” He placed a hand to her hip, pressing into the gauzy whiteness of her nightgown. “I need to ask you something.
“How healthy are you?”
“It’s after midnight and you’re asking about my health?”
“Just answer the question.” He sounded grim. “Please.”
She pushed her hair back from her face. “I’m healthy. I have low blood pressure and I tend to have low iron levels, so I take a supplement.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“My low blood pressure is probably genetic. My mother had it.”
“Genetic,” he muttered, drawing on his cigarette again. The smoke billowed from his nostrils as if he were a dragon.
“It’s a bit odd to ask me about my health while you’re out here smoking, don’t you think?”
“It’s better than cocaine, Julianne.” His voice was cold. “How did your mother die?”
“Why are you asking me this?” She pulled away from him.
“You told me your mother died while you were living with your father. I didn’t know if she had health problems or if it was an accident.” Gabriel’s expression was searching, but his eyes were guarded.
“She was drunk and fell down the stairs at her apartment building. Broke her neck.” Julia gave him a venomous look. “Happy now?”
She turned to go back into the bedroom, but he caught her arm. “Julianne.”
“Don’t touch me!” She wrenched her arm free and turned on him. “I love you, but you can be a cold son of a bitch.”
He was on his feet in an instant, his drink and cigarette discarded on the table. “I don’t deny it.”
“Something is troubling you, but instead of discussing it with your wife, you’d rather discuss it with your drink and your cigarette and the Umbrian landscape. Fine. Sit out here all night by yourself. But don’t try to mindfuck me.”
She moved toward the doors that led to their bedroom.
“I’m not trying to mindfuck you.”
“Then warn me before you start spelunking through my unhappy memories.”
Gabriel tried to restrain a chuckle but failed.
She turned and glared. “It isn’t funny!”
“Spelunking, Julianne? Really?” His face relaxed into a playful grin, at which she merely frowned.
He closed the space between them. “Don’t blame me for laughing. You have an enviable vocabulary.”
She struggled against his arms and then his lips were on hers. The dusky taste of smoke and tobacco invaded her mouth. His kiss was gentle but insistent.
In time, her posture softened.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m in a foul mood. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
“That’s right, you shouldn’t.
“When I’m upset, I talk to you. Talk to me.”
He pulled away, running both hands through his hair, making its dark strands even more unruly.
She tugged at his elbow.
“Everyone gets into a foul mood sometime. But you can’t bring up certain topics so indelicately.”
“Forgive me.”
“You’re forgiven.” She shivered. “But you’re scaring me. You’re looking for Scotch and talking about cocaine. You’re asking me how my mother died. What’s going on?”
“Not tonight, Julianne.” He scrubbed at his face with his hands. “Haven’t we had enough distress for one day? Go to bed. I’m not fit for company.”
He returned to his seat, his shoulders slumped.
Julia hesitated, her eyes darting between the doors to the bedroom and his face. Part of her wanted to leave him to brood alone. Part of her believed that he was in distress and that if she didn’t attempt to intervene, he would spiral into a depression.
Or worse.
She went to him, holding out a tentative baby finger, linking it with his.
“You’re upset.”
“Yes.” His voice sounded flat.