But her husband knew the girl she had been, and now he watched part of that fragile girl shattering.
“You’re awful,” Maya said. “That’s not even funny, Gabe. What a terrible thing to say.”
Gabe only looked at her and she stared back, her denial crumbling.
“No, no. Come on, Gabe. Please don’t … No.”
At last he rose from Maya’s reading chair, the only time he would ever sit in it, and he went around the sofa and took her in his arms. Despite all that had passed between them, bitterness and bad blood and recriminations, she did not protest as he embraced her. For long minutes he held her, the night ticking away outside but time at a standstill for Gabe and Maya Rio. For a brief moment, they were husband and wife again.
“How … how did it happen?” she asked, her head still resting on his shoulder. “I thought you were still at sea.”
Gabe tried to reply, but the words wouldn’t come. They had not given him much time. How could he speak the things he had come here to say? He had never been eloquent. But perhaps truth would succeed where eloquence might fail him.
“Maya,” he said, holding her out at arm’s length, finding her gaze with his own, making sure they connected. He fought the anger and bitterness that churned like bile in the back of his throat and twisted his gut in knots.
“What?” she urged. “What aren’t you telling me, Gabe?”
He took a deep breath and released her, leaning back against the sofa. Best to give her space now.
“I know about you and Miguel.”
Before his eyes, Maya started to fall apart. She didn’t even try to deny it. Strange sounds came from her throat, little choking gasps, and then — hands shaking — she began to cry. The tears fell without sobs or even words, at least at first. Several times she tried to speak but emotion overcame her and she could only wave her hands about, angry with herself.
“Gabe,” she said at last.
And then it occurred to her, as he had known it would, and a wave of fear and suspicion spread across her features. One fluttering hand covered her mouth again and she took a step away from him.
“No,” he said. “I didn’t kill him, Maya.” Gabe glanced at the floor a moment. “I won’t say I didn’t think about it. I hated both of you, and I wanted to hurt you both, badly. But Miguel saved my life, chica. He died to give me a chance to live, and that bought me time to think. I don’t have a lot of words for the things I feel. Never have. But I know that we drifted really far from each other, and that was at least as much my fault as it was yours. You didn’t just betray me, you betrayed us. But you’re not the only one. I can’t put it all on you.”
He took a breath, and then a risk. He held out his hand for hers.
“My brother …” he said, emotion welling up inside him, studying Maya’s eyes, searching for the girl he’d first fallen in love with. “Miguel is gone, but we’re still here.”
“After everything …” she began.
“I know.”
“We can’t just—”
“I know.”
They stared at each other, and in her eyes Gabe saw fury and shame and regret that mirrored his own. Tentatively, she reached out and took his hand, and they stood like that for a few seconds, still far apart but connected by that uncertain connection.
“Miguel’s really … he’s really dead?”
Gabe nodded.
“I’m so sorry.”
Then she stepped gingerly forward and slipped her arms around him, careful — as though afraid he might break.
“What happened?”
Gabe took a deep breath and once more released her. He turned and walked to the window, wondered how long it would be before Nadeau and Mac ran out of patience. No one had seen Gabe coming into the building, and they could not afford to have anyone see him leaving, either.
“You might want to sit down,” he said.
Maya searched his eyes for some clue to what might be coming, what other dreadful news he might have brought with him, but she did as he suggested, perching on the edge of the sofa.
“You’re going to have a lot of questions about what I’m about to say,” he explained, “but I’m not going to be able to answer them. What I tell you now is all I’m allowed to tell you, do you understand?”
“Allowed? Allowed by—”
“Maya,” Gabe interrupted, “it’s all I’m allowed to say. Do you understand that?”
Wiping at her tears, she nodded.
“When I walk out of here, I won’t be coming back,” he said, his heart heavy. “Not to the apartment, and not to Miami. As far as the world will know, the Antoinette sank with all hands on board.”
“Christ,” Maya whispered.
Gabe swallowed hard, the words difficult for him. “Miguel’s dead. And you’ll be told that I’m dead, too. If you talk about me coming here, and this conversation, doctors will say you imagined it, that grief made you see things you wished to see. The government will confirm my death. And it will be like I really am dead. I’ll be just as gone, and just as impossible to find again.
“I’m vanishing tonight, chica,” Gabe went on, his heart turning gentle, knowing how her mind must be awhirl. “And I hope you’ll come with me.”
Maya’s mouth hung open in a little O and then she looked around the room, as though the answers could be found there. She leaned back, sinking deeper into the sofa.
“Where?” she asked.
“I can’t tell you. But I won’t lie to you; it won’t be anything like Miami. Someplace they don’t speak English, a fishing village,” he said, and sat beside her on the sofa so she could see his eyes up close and maybe see the truth. “I can’t give up the sea, Maya. Not ever. But I won’t be wandering far again. I’ll have a fishing boat, and I’ll be up before sunrise, but I’ll come home every night for dinner.”
She scoffed, half-turning from him in doubt.
Gabe took her hand. “I mean it.”
Maya shook her head, gaze shifting around before at last meeting his. “Do you really think you could live like that?”
“I could if you could.”
Her lower lip trembled. “It’s all I ever wanted. You know that. But after everything …”
“I know,” he said, squeezing her hand. He reached up and brushed her hair away from her eyes.
Defiant, she stared at him. “You really think we can forgive each other?”
“Truth? I don’t know,” he confessed. “But after the mistakes I’ve made, and all I’ve lost, and everything that’s gone on between us, I’ve got a chance to start over, and it kills me to think of doing that without you.”
Long seconds ticked by. Maya’s breaths came evenly, the way they did when she slept. Her gaze grew distant, lost in contemplation. Then she looked up at Gabe and gave him a quick nod.
For so long — all the way back to the day he had taken the job at Viscaya to help Miguel — Gabe had felt like a passenger in his own life. He could captain a ship, but his own fate had seemed out of his hands. But that Gabe Rio, the one who never faulted himself but seethed at the betrayals of those he loved, who could never have conceived of giving or receiving forgiveness … that man was dead, lost with the Antoinette. Captain Rio had gone down with his ship.
Gabe stood, and Maya rose with him, still holding his hand.
“Come on,” he said. “They’re waiting. We won’t have much time.”
“Sure we will,” Maya replied, releasing his hand and hurrying to pack some things. She glanced back over her shoulder at him. “Sure we will.”