“I carried it all the way over here by myself and I’m not carrying it back.”
He glanced at Verna, who sat behind her desk, not even pretending to work. “I imagine I can find someone with a pickup truck to take it back.”
Unlike Paul, Julia didn’t care what Verna heard. She squared her shoulders and locked her gaze with his. “Don’t reject this gift too.”
He flinched. “Maybe we should discuss this in my office.” He swept his hand toward the open door in a command she decided to obey.
She preceded him into the room, hearing the door click shut behind her. He kept his back to her as he walked to the other side of the desk. When he turned, his mask fell away. “I’m no art collector. What the hell will I do with something that valuable?”
“Remember me when you look at it.” His stony refusal tore at her.
He rested his fists on the desktop and leaned forward, his voice low and sibilant. “Your memory is burned into every cell of my body.”
“Oh.” The words seemed flattering, but he said it as though he regretted the fact.
He collapsed into his chair. “I’ll keep the painting but please leave now.”
“I have to tell you one more thing.” She perched on the edge of the chair closest to his desk.
He lifted his head as though it weighed a ton. The fingers of his left hand beat a near-silent tattoo on the blotter.
She cleared her throat. “I didn’t want you to know this about me, but I owe you the truth.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t owe me anything. Quite the opposite.”
“I owe you this.” She twined her hands together in her lap. “My uncle had a reason for being so overprotective. It’s why I’d never learned to ride a horse. Or ridden a motorcycle or swum in a river.”
Paul’s fingers stilled.
“I had epilepsy.” She said it carefully to make sure it was in the past tense. She couldn’t look at Paul yet, so she stared at the shape her hands made. “The first time Papi put me on a horse, I had a seizure and fell off. He caught me so I wasn’t hurt, but he never wanted to risk it again. So I drew horses instead.” She hazarded a glance at Paul. His face gave away nothing.
“You say you had epilepsy.” His enunciation was as careful as hers. “Does that mean you no longer have it?”
“It’s not a question with a yes or no answer. I haven’t had a seizure in seven years. Two years ago my doctors allowed me to stop taking my antiseizure medication.” She faltered to a stop.
“So are you cured?”
“As long as I don’t have another seizure I am. Many people grow out of epilepsy if it develops when they’re children. I seem to be one of them.”
“Seem?”
She shrugged. She wasn’t going to lie to him. “I believe I’m cured.”
He folded his hands together on his desk. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you would have treated me differently.”
“You’re damned right I would have. Do you realize how dangerous—” The volume of his voice rose until he cut himself off. “Of course you do,” he said levelly. “You deliberately withheld the information.”
Despite her resolution, Julia felt tears burn in her eyes. “I didn’t tell you because you wouldn’t have taken me riding on your motorcycle or to the river or—”
“Jesus Christ!” He surged to his feet, sending his chair slamming into the wall. “How do you think I would have felt if you’d gotten hurt? Or worse?”
The tears spilled down her cheeks and she dashed them away with her wrist. “I wanted you to see me as a normal person.”
“There’s nothing normal about you. I’ve been saying that all along.” He stalked over to the window.
She fought down the sob threatening to tear out of her throat. “Maybe I’d better go.”
He turned, his arms crossed. “I’ve been telling you that for days. You don’t belong here.”
She wiped her eyes one last time and stood up, her head high. “I don’t regret anything I’ve done.”
“Wish I could say the same. I could have hurt you several times over. When I think about the hazardous situations I put you in…”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, but I had a chance to leave my past behind and I took it.” She risked a quick glance at his face. His jaw was clenched tight and a vein pulsed at his temple.
She retreated to the door, stopping as she put her hand on the doorknob. Keeping her eyes on the wood panel in front of her, she said, “Will you still come to the reception tonight?”