She found a bench in the shadow of a column and sat, bracing her elbows on her knees to bury her face in her hands. Would these feelings ever leave her? It wasn’t just that she’d lost Aelius. The guilt of what she’d done to him crushed her like a boulder on her chest. He had a dream, and she had ruined it.
Soft footsteps sounded and she jumped to her feet, ready to make an excuse about why she was lingering here. But she recognized the lanky figure that approached.
“Good evening, Crispina,” Catullus said. “May I join you?”
She sat back on the bench. “I wish you wouldn’t.”
He sat next to her nonetheless. “It must be difficult to see your ex-husband with a newly pregnant wife.”
She shot him a sharp look. Sometimes he was too perceptive. “My first ex-husband, you mean. I have two now.”
“You’re not divorced yet.”
“You’ve known Aelius for longer than I have. Do you truly think he will ever so much as look at me again?”
Catullus shrugged. “It’s only been a week. Things may change.”
She pivoted to stare directly at him, his profile shadowy in the dark garden. “Your optimism is naïve.”
“Love is not so easy to set aside, Crispina,” he said. “I believe Aelius wishes he could hate you, but he will never be able to. His love for you has become a torment.”
“Wonderful,” she murmured.
“I only meant that if you were to take the first step, you may find reconciliation comes easier than you’d expect.”
Crispina shook her head. “I hurt him greatly. I’d never ask him to forgive me. I don’t deserve that.” Still, the thought of returning to Aelius tempted her, rising like a desert mirage in her mind. “Do you think there’s any chance he could pull through? He must be doing everything he can in these last few days.”
“I believe he is concentrating his efforts on acquiring an estate in the countryside.”
Crispina blinked. “He means to leave Rome?”
Catullus’s mouth pulled down into a mournful expression. “Much to my chagrin. But he’s done with politics.”
“You mean…he’s not even going to try to win this election? He’s given up?” She knew his prospects were bleak, thanks to her, but she had assumed he would keep fighting, scrape together every last vote he possibly could.
Catullus nodded.
Shock jolted Crispina to her feet. “He can’t give up!”
“With respect, I don’t think you’re best-suited to criticize his actions here, Crispina.”
She shot him a glare. “There must be something he could do. Someone he could talk to. He can’t just…leave.” Aelius had been fighting this uphill battle since the day she’d met him, facing every obstacle, every insult with unflagging tenacity. The idea of his capitulation was devastating.
“There must be something that can be done,” she insisted.
“Even if there is, I’m not sure Aelius has the appetite for it at the moment.”
She folded her arms over her chest, summoning the stubborn resolve that had seen her through her taxing first marriage and humiliating divorce. “If he won’t act, then I will.” She would never ask for his forgiveness, but what if there was some way to right the wrong she’d done him?
Catullus looked at her as if she’d grown two more heads. “How, exactly?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “But I will think of something. And you’ll help me.” If there was one thing she’d always been able to rely on, it was her intellect. Catullus could be a worthy ally; he wasn’t stupid, even if he did botch Sappho occasionally, and he knew more than she did about the intricacies of the election.
This venture was likely impossible, she knew. But the alternative was to live the rest of her life under the crushing weight of guilt that plagued her. It had only been a week, and she could barely live with herself. She didn’t want to think about the years that stretched before her, empty and alone.
Catullus raised an eyebrow. “The election is in a week, you realize?”
“Come visit me tomorrow.” Crispina didn’t bother to hide the tone of command from her voice. “We can talk. And don’t mention this to Aelius.”
