Page 31 of Drawn Together

Had he grown up in some orphanage? In foster homes?

He must’ve noticed I’d gone mute because before starting the car, he turned to me and said in a soothing tone, “Hey, it’s okay. You can’t miss what you never had.”

That was a lie, and he knew it. There wasn’t a day when I didn’t miss having a mother to take care of me, to give me advice, to ease my fears. Even so, I could imagine how he must feel, since my father had never paid much attention to me, but at least I had Gabriella.

“Hey, Marfil, I’m serious; don’t feel sorry for me,” Sebastianinterrupted my thoughts, clearly trying to distract me from them. “Let’s talk about something else.”

I let out a sigh, suddenly no longer in the mood to talk. “Sure. You pick.”

“Okay. Your name.”

“What about it?”

“It’s unique. Why Marfil?”

I hesitated, then shrugged. “It’s the Spanish word forivory. According to my dad, it came to my mother the moment she held me in her arms.” I let out a small laugh. “I didn’t like it at first. I thought it made me stand out too much. But over time, I grew to love it. It was chosen by her.”

“It suits you.”

I chuckled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Do I really have to elaborate?”

I toyed with the edge of my sleeve, suddenly unable to stop the words from spilling out of my mouth. “I used to be obsessed with elephants when I was little. Still am, honestly.”

“Elephants?” His smile widened.

“Their tusks, they are made of ivory,” I said. “Or at least that’s what Lupe used to say to me all the time.” I paused. “They’re gentle, loyal. They remember everything. They grieve. They love deeply and never forget the ones who matter.”

Sebastian was quiet for a beat, then softly said, “That tracks.”

“With what?”

“With you.”

He didn’t elaborate, and neither did I, but the weight of his words followed us back to the apartment, where we said goodnight to each other with a cold “See you tomorrow.”

At least he’d told me a little bit about himself, and cared enough to ask me about me, which also happened to be the reason why I lay awake practically all night.

CHAPTER 12MARFIL

The next morning, the tattoo hurt like hell. I had moved around in the night and ended up sleeping right on top of it. In the shower, I realized it was impossible to clean it; I couldn’t reach. There was no way I was going to be able to wash it and put lotion on it three times a day on my own. I would have to ask my handsome bodyguard, a thought that put me in a good mood and even eased some of my pain, psychologically speaking, at least.

I pulled my hair up, and since it was Sunday and I didn’t have plans to go anywhere, I put on a leotard to avoid anything touching my tattoo, and slipped some gray sweatpants over it.

As I walked into the kitchen, I was instantly met with the delicious smell of Sebastian’s coffee and freshly cooked pancakes. He had his back to me, but when I saw him dressed in gray sweatpants like mine and a simple black shirt, I had the urge to take them off him and search for all the secrets hidden in his tattoos.

“Good morning,” I said, taking a seat at the island as I gathered my thoughts. I hadn’t forgotten I was still mad at him for having ratted me out to my father. But I had to be honest: I didn’t usually stay angry for long, much less with a handsome guy who kept me safe and made me breakfast.

Sebastian turned around and set a plate of pancakes on the counter. “Eat,” he said, warm and friendly as ever.

I poured some milk into a mug, then placed it in the microwavefor a few seconds. As I waited, I stood right beside him while he flipped another batch of pancakes.

“Do you always make such elaborate breakfasts?” I asked as I dipped my finger in a drip of honey and brought it to my lips.

“It’s just pancakes, Marfil—you mix milk, flour, and sugar, that’s it.”

I took my warm milk from the microwave, then turned to him and said, “Be grateful I even got up to drink this.”