Page 9 of Nobody's Girl

Sofia relaxed a little. His smile made her insides flip and turn with…what? What was this feeling? Ivo tapped a little button along the length of the tube.

“This is your morphine, if you hadn’t guessed. You can tap it when you’re in pain to get more morphine – up to a point, that is.” He grinned at her. “It’s the good stuff, don’t waste it.”

His smile was so infectious that she couldn’t help feeling at ease with him. He couldn’t be that much older than her, maybe six or seven years she guessed, and there was something familiar about him that she couldn’t place.

“I saw you at the swimming pool,” she began, shyly, then as he nodded, she went on. “We had that…we were swimming, together.”

Ivo smiled. “So, it wasn’t me imagining it?”

Sofia shook her head. “No. It’s funny, but it seemed such a natural thing to do. Your form is really good.”

“Thank you, yours too. Do you go there every night?”

She nodded. “Leonie, that’s the sweet receptionist, she lets me swim for free after ten p.m. I get to use the shower and wash my clothes…” She trailed off, feeling embarrassed. She didn’t want this lovely man to think badly of her – he might if she knew he was homeless.

Ivo didn’t react but nodded. “Sofia, you don’t have to tell me anything, but I may be able to help you if you do. You did tell me you had no family. The accent, American, yes?”

She nodded then panicked. “Oh, fuck…fuck…the hospital…they’ll send me back, Ivo, I can’t go back…”

“Ssh, ssh, it’s okay. They don’t know anything and they don’t need to. I’m covering your bills, so.”

“Oh, no, I cannot accept that, Ivo, you’ve been kind enough already.” Sofia felt close to tears. Ivo took her hand and gave her a grin.

“Yeah, I have – remember that time I hit you with my car? Real kind.” He rolled his eyes and chuckled, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Look, I will find a way to pay you back, I swear.” She sighed. “I seem to be saying that a lot lately. But please, Ivo, at least let me try.”

Ivo sighed. “Fine, but the first priority is to get well. Anything else is moot until you’re fit and well.”

Sofia laid her head back on the pillow and gazed at him. He really was heart-stoppingly gorgeous. “Who was that beautiful woman who was here? Or did I imagine her?”

Ivo grinned. “That’s Desiree. She’s been sitting with you too, although she does work, unlike me. At the moment, anyway.”

“What do you do when you are working?”

Ivo stroked a lock of hair back over her ear, then seemed to realize it might not be appropriate, and she saw two pink spots appear high on his cheeks. It made her heart clench – vulnerability on the face of this demi-god. He cleared his throat. “I’m an art dealer,” he said.

No freaking way. Sofia’s eyes darted to her backpack, sitting in the corner of the room. Had he peeked, seen her sketches? Was he playing her? Suddenly she felt a little sick. She covered her unease. “Sounds like fun.”

“It is – when we find new artists and developed them. When we don’t, it can be a bit of a drag. Desiree is opening her first major gallery on the Left Bank soon, so I’m over scouting talent for her. Besides, any excuse to spend time in this city is a good one.”

They were still holding hands and for a second they both looked at their conjoined hands, then at each other. Neither made a move to break away.

“What do you do?” He asked her – mostly out of politeness, she knew. He must know she was homeless.

“Back in America, I had just graduated college. Here…I help out on a fruit stall occasionally.” She figured she might as well be honest with him. “The owner lets me sleep under it during the day, so I can be safe.”

“And at night?”

“I find places to get food. Swim. Explore the city. Amazing how different it is at night.”

Ivo nodded and she liked that he didn’t judge her. “I can imagine. Sofia…Desi and I were talking while you were sleeping. She tells me she might have some work…if you’re interested. At the gallery. It might be cleaning or manual labor, or I don’t know what. Maybe even painting. The walls, I mean,” he said with a grin, and Sofia knew that he hadn’t looked in her pack then. He didn’t know she was an artist. Thank god because now she could never tell him. It would seem like…she didn’t want to think what it would seem like.

Sofia closed her eyes for a long moment. She heard Ivo shift his chair closer. “You don’t have to think about it yet,” he said, mistaking her silence for discomfort. “Just get better.”

His fingers squeezed hers. “Do you want to be alone?”

She shook her head. No. She really didn’t. She’d had enough of being left alone and this lovely, gorgeous, sweet man was who she wanted to sit with for a while. She opened her eyes and looked at him. Really, it was like staring at the sun. She swallowed hard, afraid she might be mooning at him. “So, your accent…French?”