Valentina laughs. “That’s burnt.”
“It’s how I like it! Watch.”
With my fingers, I pull the charred marshmallow layer off, exposing a gooey center. I put the whole shell into my mouth.
“That cannot be good for you,” she says, watching in awe and slight concern.
“I mean, probably not. But it’s delicious. I usually do it a couple more times before I eat the rest. You should try it.” I smile, grabbing a marshmallow and handing it to her.
“You’re supposed to roast it lightly and melt the inside so you can make s’mores, Valdes.” She rolls her eyes.
She grabs another marshmallow and puts it on the end of my stick, then directs it toward the flames. Placing her hand on mine, she twists it slowly, making sure not to light it on fire as I did.
“This is taking forever,” I groan.
She chuckles. “Patience, babe.”
Excitement bubbles in my stomach at the sound of the word “babe” coming out of Valentina’s mouth and being directed at me. I try to play it cool, but I can’t stop smiling like an idiot. I look across from me for a mere moment, and the feeling immediately washes away.
Silvana looks across the campfire with a deadpan stare at both of us. The flames dances around her, making it look like she’s on fire. Or some sort of fire demon who has come to punish us for flirting around her.
“Your girlfriend is getting jealous,” I whisper.
“Huh?” Valentina looks at me, confused.
I purse my lips and use them to point in Silvana’s direction. Valentina looks over at her and shakes her head.
“She’s ridiculous,” Valentina mutters. “I wish she’d take the hint and move on.”
“Hmm, I wonder if Sofia has ever thought the same thing about you,” I tease.
“Fair point. I’m going to use the restroom—don’t burn the camp down while I’m gone.”
Moments after Valentina walks away, Silvana stands up and heads in her direction. I try not to be bothered by it. Valentina has made it pretty clear she’s not interested in her. Right? Unless she is just a flirt and is willing to mess around with Silvana for the sake of the thrill. My palms feel sweaty.
“Did you have fun today?”
I turn to my left to see Luciano staring at me, waiting for a reply.
“Yes. Sorry, I was lost in thought for a second there.” I laugh. “It’s been amazing. Thank you so much for having me. It’s been an honor.”
“We wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re family, Isa. Sofia was really excited to have you come. I wondered why. I was curious what about you could be so special. Then she told me about your restaurant, and I became even more intrigued.”
“Wow, that means a lot, Luc,” I say.
“So tell me. What makes you and your restaurant special?”
I clear my throat and sit up straight. Now is finally my time to shine. I’ve been silently rehearsing to myself how I would win him over. Do I just cry and beg for the money? Do I tell him how much debt I’m in or wait until he agrees to work with me? Do I pretend everything is great? I’ve been torn all week about it, but this is it. I have to decide. I take a deep breath.
“Well, it was originally my father’s restaurant. He’s had it since I can remember. I distinctly remember running around the store as a toddler, giggling as he chased me because I stole a croquette. It was his croquettes, actually, that first made me realize how special La Mariposa could be. They weren’t just snacks—they were magic. Customers would come in just for those. Some still do.”
The warm fire casts a glow on Luciano’s face as he listens to my story.
“As I got older, I started being way more useful,” I say, laughing. “I could take customers’ orders, help him bake pastries, and make all kinds of sandwiches. But it was the recipes that really fascinated me. My dad always said they were the heart of La Mariposa. The croquettes, the ropa vieja, the flan—everything was made with so much care. He’d stay up late tweaking the spices for the arroz con pollo, insisting it had to be just right because it was my abuelita’s recipe. It became my haven. We were a team. I even remember sponge-painting the wall with him despite my best efforts to convince him it was ugly. Of course, my mother hates it, but now it makes me smile.”
“I bet it’s a fond memory you have with him every time you look at it,” he says.
“It is,” I say as I stick another marshmallow at the end of my branch. “Then he got sick, and I had to take on even more responsibilities. It became super stressful for me when I left for college. I didn’t want to leave him behind. He urged me to get an education and then come back. He promised me he’d be here when I did. Then I got the call while I was in my dorm.”
