“Really?” Her eyes flash, and she steps closer, crowding Valeria’s space. “Because this”—she gestures wildly at the table, the plates, the empty glasses—“is exactly the kind of shit my ex used to pull. Sneaking around, making excuses, ‘it’s just lunch,’ ‘it’s not what it looks like,’ ‘she’s just afriend.’ And I’m standing here like ridiculous thinking you’re different.”
Valeria feels heat rise to her face, anger and shock twisting together. “I’m not your ex.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Brooke spits, her voice shaking now. “I can’t believe this is happening again.” Brooke’s hands go to her hair, gripping it like she’s trying to keep herself from unraveling completely. She looks furious, yes, but also scared. Betrayed. She takes a shaky breath, eyes narrowing on Valeria. “I trusted you,” she says quietly. “And this is what I walk into.”
Valeria’s chest tightens so hard it hurts.
“Brooke, stop,” she says, louder than she means to. Her voice trembles, but she doesn’t back down. “You need to stop acting like you caught me doing something dirty behind your back.” Brooke opens her mouth, probably to rebut, but Valeria keeps going.
“This wasn’t me sneaking around. It’s nothing like what your ex did to you. Camila asked me to lunch because she was in the area for her meeting with Isabella. That’s it. I didn’t lie. I didn’t hide anything. If I had seen you call, I would have told you I was here with her. You’re building this whole story in your head that just isn’t real.”
Brooke scoffs, rolling her eyes.
“I get that you have triggers and that maybe I set one off. I apologize for that. I never want to make you feel unsafe,” Valeria says, voice softer. “But that doesn’t give you the right to come in here and accuse me of cheating. Or compare me to your ex. That’s not fair, Brooke.”
Her jaw tightens, her nostrils flaring, but she doesn’t say anything.
“I’m not her,” Valeria says, slower. “I’m not going to apologize for something I didn’t do. You don’t get to rewritereality. I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m allowed to go out with a friend without needing your permission beforehand.”
Brooke swallows hard, her shoulders lifting and falling in a shaky breath.
“Look at me,” Valeria adds, softer still. “I’m right here. I wasn’t hiding. I wasn’t doing anything behind your back. You know that, because you know me, but if what you’re looking for is an excuse to leave, then tell me.”
The anger in Brooke’s eyes dims slowly until her shoulders drop completely.
“It’s not. You’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t believe it. I don’t know why I said it.”
Valeria moves in to hug her, wrapping her tightly in her arms. “It’s okay,” she murmurs.
Brooke leans into her, and they stay like that for a few minutes as Brooke whispers all sorts of apologies into Valeria’s hair until her phone rings, and her assistant tells her that her 3 p.m. meeting has been moved up by an hour.
“I have to go, but I’ll see you later?”
Valeria nods, and they kiss goodbye.
“Everything okay?” Maria Jose asks, standing next to Valeria, wrapping an arm around her.
Valeria nods, and Maria Jose gives her a tight-lipped smile like she doesn’t fully believe her, but doesn’t push it.
Valeria has done everything in her power to keep her arguments and worst moments with Brooke off both her moms’ radars. If they knew half the things she and Brooke have been through, they’d lock her up and never let her out. This is too close for comfort, and she can only hope MaJo chalks it up to a simple argument.
CHAPTER TEN
CAMILA
Camila storms straight to her car, cussing Brooke out under her breath the entire time.
There are so many things she wanted to scream at her: how she doesn’t deserve Valeria, that she’s not her punching bag, how she desperately needs to go to fucking therapy, but most importantly, that her face practically begs to be introduced to a fist. Only, the second she saw Valeria’s pleading eyes, all of it died on her tongue.
“Fuck,” Camila breathes as she drops into the driver’s seat, hands grabbing on to the steering wheel, physically forcing herself to stay put, to steady the storm inside her mind. Valeria doesn’t need rescuing—she’s an adult, fully capable of handling this. If anything, barging in would only make things worse.
Maria Jose is close by, she reminds herself. The thought of her not being alone with a seething Brooke loosens something tight in Camila’s chest, even if her mind keeps pulling her toward the uglier possibilities. It’s something she’s still trying to unlearn. She wants to trust that not every argument means someone is a piece of shit whowill hurt their partner, but Brooke seems like an all-around shit human, so the possibility always lingers in the back of her mind.
When Camila calms her brain down enough, she starts her car and heads toward Ella’s gallery. She turns on a podcast to keep her mind occupied, but she barely pays attention. Her mind is too wrapped up in Valeria, hoping she’s okay.
Thankfully, she makes it to the gallery in less than five minutes, and the moment she walks in, her mind clears. Art has always had that effect on her, even when she was a kid. It’s like a balm over her nerves.
The pictures online don’t do this place justice. The gallery is modern and minimalist—white walls, bold abstract paintings lining them, and a few sculptures scattered throughout. Camila spots a couple of pieces she knows right away are Ella’s, along with others she doesn’t recognize yet but can’t wait to learn more about.
