Chapter 8
Gabriel did not move back in.
I expected him to.
That assumption embarrassed me.
He laughed when I offered the west guest suite.
“I have a life, Damian.”
Of course.
Eight years is enough time to build one.
He lived in Vermont.
Managed a small restoration company.
No crews.
No family title.
No desire to become my deputy.
That last part surprised me most.
“You don’t want back in?”
“No.”
I stared.
Gabriel smiled.
“You still think exile was the only reason I left this world.”
It wasn’t.
The accusation pushed him out.
Distance showed him he preferred ordinary problems.
Roofs.
Old houses.
Payroll.
People who did not call betrayal every time someone disagreed.
He had a partner.
Not romantic.
Business.
Friends I did not know.
A home I had never seen.
My brother had become a person outside my memory.
That hurt.
Good.
Pain was appropriate.
I asked:
“Can we fix this?”
Gabriel looked toward the garden.
“Some of it.”
Not all.
Honest.
Then:
“You believed them.”
“Yes.”
“You never came.”
“Yes.”
“You never called.”
“Father forbade it.”
He turned.
There.
The excuse I had carried eight years.
Gabriel waited.
I corrected myself.
“I chose to obey him.”
Better.
He nodded.
That was the first real apology.
Not I’m sorry Father manipulated us.
Not Alistair fooled me.
I chose.
“I’m sorry.”
Gabriel looked at me for a long time.
Then:
“I believe you.”
Not forgive.
Believe.
Enough for day one.
Nora passed through the terrace carrying linens.
Gabriel raised his coffee.
“Morning.”
She smiled.
“Morning.”
I noticed how easily he spoke to staff.
No performance.
No hierarchy.
Then I realized he had spent eight years without servants.
Of course.
Maybe exile had taught him things power never taught me.
May you like
That possibility irritated me.
Which probably meant I needed it.
