Aelius held up a hand. He didn’t want to know what “it” was. “You’re not in trouble. I wanted to speak to you on a matter of importance.” The idea had been percolating in his mind since Crispina had first mentioned it to him what seemed like a lifetime ago. Now, with his wife gone and his dreams of a political career dashed, it seemed the only thing he could do to bring some certainty to his life.
“I would like to adopt you,” Aelius said. “Do you know what adoption means?”
Max shook his head.
“It’s when someone becomes part of a family they weren’t born into. I know it’s a bit unusual, as your parents are still living, but given they’ve abandoned you, I believe I can make a case a magistrate will approve. You would be my son, legally and in the eyes of the gods. My heir. Would you like that?”
Max blinked slowly. “Would I have to change my name?”
“You would add my family name, Herminius, onto your own,” Aelius said. “Maximus Herminius—it has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? But we’d still call you Max.”
Max shrugged. “All right.”
Aelius leaned forward. “I want you to understand the weight of this decision. If you become a part of our family, you will undertake a responsibility to represent our name and uphold its legacy. You’ll need an education. You’ll have to work to build a strong reputation for yourself. You’ll have to choose a good wife to marry and have children with, so our name continues generation after generation.”
Max wrinkled his nose. “Sounds like a lot of work.”
Aelius grinned. “Luckily that’s many years off. So what do you say?”
Max chewed his lip. “All right. I’d like to be your son.” A shadow crossed his face. “I would’ve liked to beherson, too.”
Aelius didn’t need to ask who he was talking about. “She would have liked that.” A bittersweet pain blossomed in his chest. He had lost a wife, but gained an heir. At least he would have no further need to marry now that he had Max. He could spend the rest of his days as a bachelor, living in comfortable anonymity with his mother and Max. No need for another politically motivated marriage to an unsmiling, icy, brilliant woman who would capture his heart like an eagle captured an unsuspecting squirrel. “Well, if we’re in agreement, I’ll write to a magistrate and set the process in motion. You can go back to your disemboweled birds now.”
Released, Max climbed off his chair and raced from the room. Aelius cast a rueful smile after him, then found a blank piece of papyrus and began to write.
Crispina stared at her reflection in the polished silver mirror. A pale, hazy ghost stared back at her, all pinched cheeks and empty eyes. A week had passed since she’d left Aelius. She refused to show her parents how deeply she was suffering, so she pretended everything was all right. She assisted her mother in planning the day’s menus, helped with weaving, and gave her opinion on trivial matters like what type of fabric would be best to reupholster the dining couches. But every moment she was awake, she missed Aelius, Max, and Gaia with a fierce ache that felt like it was going to tear her apart.
How was it possible that a simple arrangement between herself and Aelius had bound her so tightly to three people? Even if Aelius would never look at her again, she would still give anything to see Gaia smile or hear Max crow with delight as he instigated some sort of mischief. Day by day, moment by moment, they had become her family. Without them, she was unanchored, a boat drifting from the harbor, soon to be swamped by a passing wave.
The days were bad enough, but the nights were even worse. She spent them staring at the ceiling, alternately racked with guilt and tormented by longing. She missed Aelius’s warm body beside her, the way she would wake in the night to find that he’d pulled her closer. She missed the little touches and kisses that set her body aflame. Most of all, she missed having someone there in the darkness, someone who smiled when she was the first thing he saw upon waking.
Her guilt was compounded by the fact that once again, she had been forced to abandon her students on the Aventine. They’d been making such progress, too, and now it would all be lost.
A light knock came at her door. “Visitor for you, mistress.”
She straightened. “Who?”
But the sound of footsteps told her the slave had already retreated. Who could have come to see her? Her mind immediately jumped to Aelius, but their parting had been final. Still, hope blossomed. Could Gaia have brought Max to see her?
Crispina jumped up from her dressing table, hastily adjusted her hair, and hurried from her bedroom. When she saw who waited for her in the atrium, her surprise was so great that it quashed the disappointment. It wasn’t Max or Gaia, but…
“Horatia?”
Her erstwhile friend turned, hands clasped in front of her. “Crispina.” She took a hesitant step forward. “I will leave if you don’t wish to speak to me, but I ran into Gaius Valerius Catullus and he told me you had separated from Aelius. I knew I had to see you. I went to your home, and Aelius told me it was true and I’d find you here.” Her eyes grew wide. “Gods, Crispina, what happened? The way you spoke about Aelius, I thought…”
“So did I.” Crispina surveyed her friend. Horatia’s disparaging words at their last meeting still stung, but that was months ago, and much had changed since then. She no longer had a husband or child who needed her to defend them. “You spoke to Aelius?”
Horatia nodded, then smiled regretfully. “He’s as handsome as you said, not to mention charming, though I can tell he’s devastated by all this. I should have welcomed him sooner. I’m sorry I’ve only realized it now.”
When it’s too late.
“Please, will you forgive me for my mistakes?” Horatia asked. “I wrote you a letter, but you never replied.”
“I know.” At the time, Crispina had been tempted toward forgiveness by her friend’s apology, but had been too wrapped up in her newfound bliss with Aelius to fully contemplate pardoning Horatia.
“I want to be friends again,” Horatia continued. “I want my children to know you. Paullus misses you, and little Nonus is getting so big already.”
“I would like to see them,” Crispina said quietly.
