Gabriel's Rapture by Reynard, Sylvain (best pdf reader for ebooks .TXT) 📗

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.”

Julia’s eyes flew open. “Diane who?”

“Diane Stewart.”

“Diane from Kinfolks restaurant?”

“That’s right.” Tom’s gruff reply immediately telegraphed to Julia far more than he realized.

Her jaw dropped in shock.

“Jules? You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Um, sure, I’ll add her to the guest list. Uh, is Diane a—special friend of yours?”

Tom fell silent for a moment. “You could say that.”

“Huh,” said Julia.

Tom ended the conversation quickly and Julia put down her cell phone, wondering which blue plate special had precipitated her father’s new romance.

Definitely not the meatloaf, she thought.

Chapter 55

On January twenty-first, Tom paced nervously at the entrance to the Basilica in Assisi. He was nervous. And the fact that Julia and her bridesmaids were late didn’t help matters. He tugged at his bow tie as he waited. Then, a vision in white velvet over organza floated through the front doors like a luminescent cloud.

He was speechless.

“Dad,” Julia breathed, smiling with excitement as she walked toward him.

Tammy and Rachel helped divest her of her cape and adjust the layers of her skirt, unfolding the train that extended behind her. Then Christina, the wedding planner who was hovering nearby, handed Rachel and Tammy their bouquets, which were a mixture of irises and white roses, designed to match their iris-colored dresses.

“You look pretty,” Tom mumbled, pressing a shy peck to Julia’s cheek through her long veil.

“Thank you.” She flushed, looking down at her bouquet, which consisted of two dozen white roses and a few springs of holly.

“Could you give us a minute?” he asked the others.

“Of course.” Christina pulled Tammy and Rachel to stand at the entrance to the sanctuary, signaling to the organist that the processional was about to begin.

Tom smiled at Julia nervously. “I like your necklace,” he said.

Julia’s hands flew to the pearls that hung around her neck. “They were Grace’s.” She fingered the diamonds in her ears too but elected not to reveal their source.

“I wonder what she’d think about you marrying her son.”

“I’d like to think that she’d be happy. That she’s looking down on us and smiling.”

Tom nodded again and shoved his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo. “I’m glad you asked me to walk you down the aisle.”

Julia looked puzzled. “I didn’t want to get married without you, Dad.”

He cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly in his rented shoes. “I should have kept you when I took you away from Sharon the first time. I never should have sent you back.” His voice cracked.

“Daddy,” she whispered, tears overflowing.

He reached over and hugged her, trying to show her with his embrace what he couldn’t say in words.

“I forgave you a long time ago. We don’t ever need to speak of it again.” She paused, looking up at him. “I’m glad you’re here. And I’m glad you’re my Dad.”

“Jules.” Tom gave a strangled cough, then released her with a smile. “You’re a good girl.”

He turned so he could peer down the long aisle that led to the altar, to where Gabriel was standing with his brother and brother-in-law. All three men were dressed in black Armani tuxedoes, with crisp white shirts. However, Scott and Aaron had eschewed Gabriel’s choice of bow ties in favor of regular ones because bow ties were, as Scott put it, “for old men, Young Republicans, or professors.”

“Are you sure about this?” Tom asked. “If you have any doubts, I’ll call a cab and take you home right now.”

Julia squeezed his hand. “No doubts. Gabriel might not be perfect, but he’s perfect for me. We belong together.”

“I told him that I expected him to take care of my little girl. That if he wasn’t prepared to do that, we’d have a problem. He said that if he treated you as anything less than the treasure you are, that I should come after him with my shotgun.” Tom grinned. “I said that suited me fine.”

“Are you ready?”

Julia took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“Then let’s do this.” He offered Julia his arm, and they nodded to the bridesmaids to begin the processional to J. S. Bach’s “Sheep May Safely Graze.”

When Julia and Tom entered the Basilica, to the melody of “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring,” Gabriel’s eyes caught hers and a wide smile spread across his features. The January sun peeked through