Camila squeezes her hand gently. “It was better than I expected. My mom was surprisingly warm, which will take some getting used to, and they really want to meet you.”
“They want to meetme?” Valeria says, an excited flutter in her chest at the thought.
“They do.” Camila brings Valeria’s hand to her lips. “Would you want to?”
“Absolutely,” Valeria says with a lot more excitement than the moment probably warrants.
“Really?” Camila raises an eyebrow. “I thought we were going slow.”
“I think we can both agree by now that I’m not particularly good at it.”
Camila laughs as she pulls into the valet.
They step out and walk inside, letting themselves be led to the elevator and up the Needle to their table overlooking Seattle.
“This is beautiful,” Camila says, looking down.
“Absolutely,” Valeria says, trying not to follow Camila’s gaze, only now remembering she has a mild fear of heights.
Camila thankfully doesn’t seem to notice.
After they each order a glass of wine, Camila reaches for Valeria’s hands. “Thank you for planning all of this and for being here with me tonight.”
“Thank you,” Valeria says, her thumb brushing over Camila’s knuckles. The touch is small, but it steadies her breathing, gives her something to hold on to besides the riotof feelings in her chest. “I feel very lucky to be here with you.”
Camila’s smile softens. “That’s exactly what I was going to say next.”
Their drinks are dropped off then, and they both take their glasses and raise them in a toast.
“To our first date,” Valeria says, and Camila echoes it, her eyes fixed on Valeria’s as they drink.
“Have I told you in the last thirty minutes how unfairly good that dress looks on you?” Camila asks, one brow arching.
Valeria smiles slowly. “I don’t think you have. So, please, tell me all about how much you like this dress.”
“I love it. Red looks great on you. I especially love the red lip,” Camila says, her eyes dipping to them.
“Really?” Valeria asks, suddenly feeling shy. “It was Alejandra’s doing. I’ve never worn it before.”
“You should, red is your color.”
Valeria smiles at that, and the feeling that blooms in her chest nearly takes her by surprise. It’s a deep happiness, threaded through with an equally deep ache—grief for how hard things used to be, and relief at how easy they are now. With Camila, everything is effortless. Camila doesn’t just accept her; she roots for her, openly and without hesitation. Where Brooke would have scrutinized the color, lifted an eyebrow, and accused her of dressing for attention, Camila does the opposite. She celebrates it. Encourages it. Makes Valeria feel bold instead of self-conscious.
The thought comes quietly, almost guiltily:How was I ever happy with Brooke?
In their time together, Camila has kept her floating and made her feel seen and adored and carefully held in a way Valeria didn’t realize she’d been missing.
“Hey,” Camila says gently, pulling Valeria from her thoughts. “Where did you go?”
Valeria lets out a quiet laugh, more breath than sound. “More places than I can voice,” Valeria says, not wanting to bring Brooke up.
“How has this past month been for you?” Valeria asks, though the question makes her nerves flare bright.
“Magical,” Camila says without hesitating. “And for you?”
“I think magical is the perfect word. I didn’t think relationships like this existed.” Valeria’s throat tightens. “Or, I knew they did. I’ve seen Lily and Isabella, then Clara and Alejandra, fall deeply and tenderly in love with each other. I never thought I’d have that.”
She wants to correct it, say she didn’t mean to say love, but correcting it feels wrong because Valeria knows she’s dangerously close to it, so instead she keeps going, even with the nerves buzzing under her skin. “We’re not even official, and you’ve already ruined me for anyone else.”
