Page 4 of Love Unwritten
“Yet you insist on calling me by my full name for some annoying reason.” Usually, I’m even-tempered, but there is something about Rafael that seems to draw out my claws.
“Do you have a problem with that?” His dry tone grates on every single one of my nerves.
I battle between speaking my mind and ignoring his obvious attempt at getting under my skin.
“Ellie!” Nico yells louder this time, deciding for me.
“Coming right now!” I take a few steps toward the hallway, only to halt midstride. “Did you need something?” I ask Rafael in a sickly sweet voice.
“Not anymore.” He walks over to the fridge and yanks the door open, making the bottles on the side shelves rattle. I don’t take his dismissal personally since he spoke to me more in the last few minutes than he has all week.
Rafael has always been moody, but over the past month, I can barely get him to speak more than a few words at a time. Most exchanges end as they started, with me questioning why I bothered trying to connect with him in the first place.
People like Rafael don’t mix well with people like me. I feel way too much, and he barely feels at all. Opposites don’t attract, no matter what propaganda teachers spew in fourth-grade science class while distracting kids with magnets.
I bolt from the kitchen before Nico comes searching for me instead. My fuzzy pink socks, which were a colorful Christmas gift from Nico because he says I wear too much black, muffle the sound of my footsteps as I walk down the long hallway toward the back of the house.
Despite Rafael having enough money to make his great-great-great-grandkids billionaires one day, he purchased land near the outskirts of Lake Wisteria, far away from the coveted lake and its million-dollar views. At first, I thought he chose this property because he needed space for a barn and the animals that live there, but I’ve since learned the truth.
Rafael is hiding from the world.
Despite the lack of neighbors, everything about the Lopez house feels charming, with vibrant paint colors Nico picked out himself, a movie room with the comfiest reclining chairs and our choice from the latest blockbuster releases, and a master nanny suite that is triple the size of my old Los Angeles apartment. It has everything I could need and more, with its own separate guest entrance, private sitting area, gorgeous spa bathroom, and a canopy bed that makes me feel like a princess.
I find Nico standing beside the elevator Rafael had installed to help his son navigate the three-story house easily, tapping his sneaker against the hardwood floor with an irritated expression on his cute little face. He is taller than other kids his age thanks to his father’s DNA, which gives him the illusion of being older.
“What took you so long?” He snatches my hand and pulls me inside the elevator car.
“I got distracted.”
“By what?”
“Your dad smiled.”
“Really?” Nico stares at me with eager eyes.
That look right there is the main reason I created the smile tracker in the first place, because whether Rafael realizes it or not, his son cherishes his smiles. They’re a symbol of hope and happiness—two things that have been severely lacking in this house as of late, although I haven’t figured out why.
I reach over his dark head of hair and hit the button for the basement. “It was small, but I caught it.”
“Wow. Two days in a row,” Nico says in disbelief.
“Looks like I may win that bet after all,” I tease halfheartedly. If Rafael smiles every day for thirty consecutive days, then Nico promised to let me borrow his favorite action figure for a month.
To a kid, those stakes are higher than me winning the lottery and retiring at the young age of twenty-nine.
“Oh no.” He fakes distress.
“It’s okay if you lose. I’ll even agree to shared custody.”
He hip-checks me with a giggle, and I ruffle his dark hair in retribution. The smile on his face dies as he looks up at me with narrowed eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing.” His defensive tone catches me off guard. Although I’m used to that kind of tone from his father, I’ve never heard Nico speak like that before.
Nico pulls his glasses off with a frown and wipes the lenses with the edge of his blue T-shirt. He always loves to pick out his own outfits, and today’s attire features thick red frames that match his comic book graphic tee and red basketball sneakers.
The elevator doors open, but he is too focused on cleaning his lenses to move, so I block the doors from closing and wait. He gets increasingly frustrated as he struggles with the task, but I refrain from helping him, no matter how much I want to.