“Valeria,” Camila answers, with her heart in her throat.
“Valeria,” he repeats, like he’s testing the name. “That’s ... that’s nice.” Her father nods approvingly.
Camila nods, a small smile finding her lips. Her father has never flinched at the truth of her—never questioned her heart. So his acceptance, offered so freely, doesn’t surprise her. Still, it loosens something tight in her chest. Underneath the comfort lingers the real ache of her worry: her mother’s reaction.
Last time her mom sent her away for the summer, and as much as Camila knows her mom can’t do that again, the worry of them losing this fragile closeness is there. It wouldsuck if her mom went back on her word as Camila is opening up.
Her mom doesn’t say anything right away. She folds her napkin once, twice. Staring at it for what could have easily been an eternity.
Her mother nods, more to herself than to anyone else. “How long?” her mother asks at last.
Camila tenses, worried her mom will think she’s been hiding it from her. “A few weeks,” she answers before playing with one of Valeria’s rings on her finger. Valeria had insisted Camila wear it so she could feel her close.
Another nod. No sigh. No reprimand.
“And she makes you happy?” she asks.
“Very.” Camila’s word hangs there, fragile as glass.
Her mother exhales slowly, like she’s been holding that breath for years. “Then ... okay.” The word is careful, but the tightness in Camila’s chest loosens all the same.
Camila’s father looks at his wife, and something in his expression softens, as if he, too, didn’t know what would happen next.
“You should bring her over sometime,” her mother says. “If she wants to.” She rushes the next part, like she’s afraid she’s asking for too much. “No pressure.”
Camila lets out a shaky laugh that sounds more like a breath. “Really?”
Her mother holds her gaze. There’s fear there, yes—but there’s also resolve. “I think we would both love to meet her,” she says quietly as she looks toward her husband. “I know I won’t get everything right, right away, but I meant it when I said I want to be in your life. Both of us do.” She swallows. “And I’m trying. I’m listening.”
Something inside Camila splinters open. She stands,rushing into her mother’s arms. She hasn’t done that since she was a teen.
Her mom gasps, surprised as Camila holds her tightly, but in seconds her arms tighten around her. As they hug, all the arguments she’d rehearsed, all the anger she’d wrapped around herself like armor, loosen, one by one, sliding off her shoulders.
When Camila returns to her seat, her parents pepper her with questions about Valeria. What she’s like, how they met, what she does for work, and Camila happily answers all of them, sharing with her parents every tiny detail that Camila loves about her.
Her throat burns. Her chest aches in the best way. This isn’t the outcome she’d braced for. Still, it’s happening anyway, and she can’t stop the gratitude from swelling in her chest, bright and overwhelming. Happiness finally feels possible.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
VALERIA
Valeria has been obsessing over her date with Camila; she’s had about thirty chats with the girls in the last few days about what outfit to wear and where to take Camila.
She’s never been the date planner; Brooke sort of always made the decisions for her, which is why it took her so long to ask Camila out. She couldn’t figure out where to take her or how to even begin planning it.
All she wants is to make Camila feel special—to remind her how much Valeria likes her and how lucky she feels. So for the past couple of weeks, the girls have been uploading restaurant suggestions to the Excel sheet Valeria made to help her figure it out.
When one of them wrote in The Loupe Lounge at the Space Needle, Valeria immediately knew that’s where it had to be. A place that feels like a visual representation of everything Camila makes her feel: high and vulnerable, but steady.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to get a reservation, but it was the only place she wanted to take Camila, so she’dbeen checking their reservation calendar every day for the past week. When she saw an opening on Saturday at 4 p.m., Valeria booked it and immediately texted Camila to ask her out. She’d have liked to do it more romantically, to make it perfect for Camila, but the rush of excitement in her chest wouldn’t let her wait.
Their reservation is in three hours, but Valeria is already running around aimlessly. A nervous energy has been buzzing beneath her skin all morning. Thankfully, the girls are at Valeria’s house, doing their best to keep her head from spinning, and also helping her get ready.
“Okay, let’s do makeup,” Alejandra says, sitting Valeria down at her dining table and rummaging through Valeria’s makeup bag.
“You do makeup, I’ll do hair,” Lily says, following closely behind Alejandra with Valeria’s hair straightener in hand.
“I’ve got drinks!” Clara says, heading straight for the kitchen.
