Valeria’s eyes go wide, her lips parting slightly. Time stretches painfully slow as their gazes lock. The silence grows heavy, and Camila can feel the nerves creeping in, her heart thudding harder with every passing second. Then, as her heart starts racing, Valeria’s lips curve into a soft, almost disbelieving smile.
Her voice drops to a whisper. “I love you.”
The words land inside Camila’s chest with a warmth so sudden it almost burns. Euphoria swells in her throat with a rush so powerful it steals her breath.
Camila’s exhale comes out shaky, as if she’s been holding her breath for weeks instead of seconds.
Her muscles loosen, a pleasant hum vibrating through her limbs, filling every space inside her, making the world feel infinitelybrighter.
She leans in slowly, savoring the anticipation of kissing the woman she loves. When their lips meet, the kiss is soft but overflowing with emotion. Camila feels it in the way her breath catches, in the slight tremble that runs through her. The kiss deepens without force, just a gradual leaning in, like gravity taking over.
Her hand rises to Valeria’s face, letting her fingertips rest against her skin. She holds her there not with possession, but with devotion—like she’s something rare and radiant, something worthy of reverence. Because to Camila, she is. Valeria melts into her, kissing her back with the same devotion, the same certainty.
Camila’s chest aches in the most beautiful way, filled to the brim with love so deep it almost hurts. In this kiss, there is softness and fire, tenderness and unwavering certainty that whatever tomorrow brings, they will handle it together.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
VALERIA
Sometimes work crawls by, and other times—like today—it disappears in a blur. Usually, Valeria would be grateful for days like that, but today, she wants time to stop. She’s nowhere near ready to see Brooke. Not because of lingering feelings or fear over what seeing her might stir up, but simply because she doesn’t want to.
She’s only doing this to give Brooke her things back and close that chapter of her life for good.
Closure. That’s what Valeria is after. The only thing making this so anxiety-inducing is knowing that Brooke is coming into this meeting with completely different intentions.
Valeria rehearsed what she’d tell Brooke all night—while she tried falling asleep, a bit this morning on her way to work, and again on her drive to the bar she’s meeting Brooke at.
In her head, it all works perfectly. She sits at the table, hands Brooke her things, wishes her a good life, and walks out. But all of that is easier said than done because now thatValeria is in her seat waiting for Brooke, she can barely feel her legs from how violently they’re shaking.
Valeria wanted to bring Camila, have her drop her off, and wait in the parking lot so she could run into her loving arms the second it was all over, but Valeria somehow convinced herself out of it. Told herself she needed to do this on her own.
Just then, Brooke walks through the bar doors, and everything in Valeria stills. Not in the way it used to when she lost her breath with longing, but in a panicked way, like how a deer goes still when it hears a predator lurking in the bushes. She feels a lot like that right now. Especially with the way Brooke is looking at her—one eyebrow arched, a dangerous smirk playing on her lips, looking as good as always in a beautifully tailored pantsuit.
In hindsight, Valeria probably should have changed out of her scrubs. She’s covered in drool, with questionable stains all over, looking like too much of a mess for someone trying to prove to their ex that they’re fine without them.
When Brooke reaches Valeria, she smiles brightly and leans in, kissing the top of Valeria’s head. Valeria flinches under it, not wanting any part of Brooke near all the loving places Camila’s lips have been. It’s petty, she knows, but she can’t help it.
“Sorry, I’m late; my meeting ran a little long. You look wonderful, by the way.” Brooke smiles, that sweet, earnest smile Valeria knows well.
“Thanks,” Valeria says, adjusting herself in her seat, pulling her leather jacket tighter over her chest.
“Did you order anything to drink?” Brooke asks, signaling the bartender.
“I didn’t. I’m not staying long,” Valeria says, but it’s like Brooke doesn’t hear her.
“Two dirty martinis, please,” Brooke asks the bartender, who nods before disappearing to make their drinks.
“Brooke, I can’t stay.”
“Okay, I hear you. I’m sorry. I’ll make sure you make it wherever you need to go.” Brooke reaches for Valeria’s hand. “I promise.”
“Brooke,” Valeria sighs, pulling her hand from Brooke’s hold.
“What’s going on?” Brooke asks, eyebrows drawing together.
“Brooke, I didn’t come for that. I came to give you this.” Valeria nudges a carry-on bag toward Brooke.
“What’s this?” Brooke asks, eyeing the bag suspiciously.
