With hands clasped in his lap, one thumb stroked the other, coaxing out the words, soothing his tears. ‘I was only trying to help her.’ His words came out in a whisper and the rims of his eyes quivered.
‘She knew that and she was so grateful.’
‘Then why did she tell you?’ he demanded, louder but no less shaky.
‘She felt that she’d been holding you back from following your dreams because you thought you owed her. She was so proud of you, Gabriel.’ Angela sat on the armchair opposite him, beaded necklace dangling in front of her chest while a noose tightened around his throat.
‘I’m sure,’ he said. ‘Proud to be the mother of a lying son who was ripping out her heart.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Angela spoke softly and leaned forward.
‘The theatre! You were there.’ He fought to get the words out of his mouth. ‘You saw how ashamed and hurt she was that I had anything to do with the theatre being redeveloped. It was what killed her.’
Angela jerked back. ‘Cancer killed Sofia, not you. She was shocked but she was so worried about how you’d had to keep it a secret, how you’d felt like you owed her so much.’
He rocketed to his feet and evaded her false comforts. ‘I did owe her. She never would have had to leave if it wasn’t for me. She wouldn’t have had to struggle. She wouldn’t have been left alone if—’ Grief jammed his throat and he grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter, straining to keep the tears back. He couldn’t let them out. He’d never stop crying.
She hugged him from behind and he went rigid.
‘Gabriel, you said so yourself that this was where she wanted to be. She said how much she owed you, for letting her live the life she always wanted. She had absolutely no regrets about coming here with you.’
‘Then why did she look so hurt?’ He straightened out of her embrace but she kept a hand on his arm and the heat burned.
‘Because she thought she’d done you wrong. Your confession didn’t kill her, it was just her time. And I’m sorry you weren’t here, but she heard you, Gabriel. She knows how much you loved her.’
He grabbed both of her hands. ‘Please don’t tell anyone they weren’t her designs,’ he begged. ‘I did it for her, for her legacy.’
And thanks to the revelation that the play was written by Draven, not Lexi, her legacy would reach further. It was a big deal. Draven, the mysterious playwright whose work was equal parts metamorphic and devasting blah, blah, blah. He’d read the promo material and didn’t care. Sofia had died not knowing the impact she could have made.
She squeezed his hands in return. ‘I promise, but she also made me promise something too.’
‘What?’
‘To help you develop your talent. Trust me, Gabriel, you have it, and it would be a crime to waste it.’
He dropped her hands and turned away, his eyes on fire as the tears threatened to burn their way out of him. Sofia was still looking out for him, but this time, she’d got it wrong. He didn’t have what it took, and he wasn’t ready to try. Angela placed her hand on his hand and he flinched—a shock ricocheted through the emptiness.
‘When you’re ready, you come and see me and we’ll talk about how we can turn Gabriel Mora into the best fashion designer Australia’s ever seen.’
He coughed out a laugh, as much for her enthusiasm as for the ridiculousness of it. He sniffed through a half-blocked nose and smiled at her, his cheeks straining from the effort. ‘Sure thing, Angela. Whatever you want.’
She brushed aside his fringe. ‘It’s not about what I want, Gabriel. It’s about what you need.’ She hugged him and he relaxed just enough to bask in her warm affection. She didn’t feel like Sofia but she cared and rather than break him apart, the hug held him together.
‘Do you want me to stay for a while longer?’ she asked.
He shook his head and stepped out of her arms, wiping at his eyes. ‘Thank you, but I think I want to be alone for a while.’
‘I understand.’ She picked up her bag and headed for the front door.
He walked behind her. ‘Umm … Did you see Bruce at the funeral?’
She gave him a look pumped full of pity. ‘I did. He was up the back. Didn’t he come say hello?’
‘No.’
She frowned. ‘Well, don’t worry about it. He’s had a lot going on too. I’m sure if you give him a call, he’d be happy to talk to you.’
‘I doubt that. We had a big fight the day Mum died. He wasn’t happy to talk then, he’s not going to be happy to talk now.’
‘Lovers fight but that doesn’t mean it’s over.’
‘I’m pretty sure it is.’
‘You didn’t see him that day after you went to the hospital. He cares for you a lot, Gabriel, but Bruce has had a lot of people hurt him in his life and he’s learned to rely on himself. Sometimes he just needs someone to give him a hand and show him that he doesn’t have to go it alone.’
‘In this case, he might be right. I don’t think Bruce and I work well together.’
‘I’ve seen those sets you two made; if there’s anyone who knows how to work well together, it’s you two. Just be honest with him about what you want. What’s the worst that could happen?’
He answered with a smile and showed her out of the house with more thanks. Honesty hadn’t ever been their strong suit, but Angela was right. As hard as it was to attempt to right past wrongs, it was harder to think that Bruce and he were over. Words hadn’t worked so well in the past, so he needed to act, to show that even if they couldn’t be together, Bruce still mattered to him a lot.
Chapter
