Page 19 of The Sinner’s Desire (The Sinner’s Touch #1)
“Tell me about college. Why did you choose fashion?” Theo asks as soon as we order at the cutest little restaurant, a place that specializes in quick bites.
“I’ve always loved designing clothes. When I was little, I used to cut patterns for my dolls, and a nanny taught me how to use needle and thread.
After that, I started making full wardrobes for my Barbies.
When I hit my teens, on one of the rare trips I took with Nora, she took me to a runway show in Milan—and the moment I saw those stunning creations, I knew I wanted to be a designer.
That same day, I started researching schools, even though it felt like a distant dream.
I still had years left at the boarding school. ”
Even before that trip, I remember how my entire childhood revolved around crayons and sketchbooks.
“I told her about my dream,” I continue, “and her answer was that, with the way I looked, I didn’t need a college degree.”
“Nora’s your mom?”
I nod, and he doesn’t press the subject. I get the sense Theo doesn’t have the best relationship with his family either—when I asked if his relatives lived in the US, he completely dodged the question.
“But you didn’t give up,” he says. “I mean, it would’ve been easier just to give in to her.”
“Definitely easier. Going against her wishes is no small task, but I didn’t back down. And I think she eventually realized I was serious. So after I was ‘freed’ from boarding school, Nora asked Michelle—her cousin in France—to take me in. That’s how I ended up in Paris.”
“And was the transition hard? From the boarding school to college, I mean?”
“Not really. Going from home to boarding school, and then to Michelle’s house, wasn’t all that different. But college . . . yeah, that was a big shift.”
“How so?”
“I was raised by nannies. I have no cousins, no aunts or grandmas. My family’s tiny.
And because of the age gap between me and Ethan, we didn’t spend a lot of time together.
By the time I started to really understand the dynamics in our house, he was already a teenager and he’d stay away whenever he could. ”
“Different fathers?”
“Yep. My mom’s been married five times.” I shrug like it’s no big deal.
“So, when I turned twelve, Nora said I needed a more refined education and sent me to boarding school. I cried for days, but nothing changed her mind. I was terrified. I’d always been a quiet, overly sensitive kid—in my mom’s words—and pretty much everything I said seemed to bother her. ”
“Why?”
“Well . . . I tend to say exactly what I’m thinking. There’s no filter between my brain and my mouth.” He laughs, and I fake a scowl. “Don’t laugh. It’s embarrassing.”
“Don’t ever change, Lilly. It’s a rare trait. These days, everyone’s hiding behind masks.”
“I don’t think I could change even if I wanted to.”
“Keep going.”
“Anyway . . . Nora’s constant criticism made me go quiet around her.
It hurt less. I buried myself in books and in my dream of designing clothes.
When I got to boarding school, I had no idea how to talk to the other girls—and apparently, they didn’t know how to talk to me either.
So the school became just another version of home.
I’d wake up, go to class, exercise, read, and draw. Always alone.”
“No friends?”
“Not back then. Now I have Martina—but don’t get the wrong idea. I wasn’t miserable. I had access to amazing art supplies. Ethan would send me the best books on fashion, and honestly, that life worked for me. Still, I couldn’t wait to start college.”
“Ah yes, college. So that was another big change, right? Not just moving countries again, but moving in with someone who was basically a stranger.”
“Not basically . She was a stranger. I’d only met her once before moving in. I think I’m just meant to be a wanderer. Even now, I’m staying at my brother’s. Maybe that’s why I’m so desperate to have a space of my own.”
“I know exactly what you mean. There’s nothing like walking around naked in your own house.”
I burst out laughing. “Oh my God, you’re one of a kind. Nothing clears your head like a good laugh, and you’ve already made me laugh out loud more than once.”
“I’m the life of the party, didn’t you notice?” he says with a dazzling smile—though I can tell it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Something tells me he’s not as happy as he pretends to be.
“Anyway, Michelle’s house was nothing like I imagined.
Like most people, I thought the French—especially the women—were open-minded, full of life.
But with her? Not even close. Just the idea of me going for a walk at Champ de Mars would make her think I was trying to sneak off to meet a gang of delinquents —which is what she called any young person, by the way. ”
“I haven’t even met her, and this cousin-aunt-whatever already gives me the creeps.”
I smile, because she really can be terrifying when she wants to be. “So yeah, even in Paris, I was the weird girl who was always sketching during breaks. End of season. Coming soon: Lilly in Boston.”
“Just be careful, okay? From what you’ve told me, you were pretty sheltered—even during college. And the real world . . . it can be rough for people with kind hearts.”