She has never handled her breakups with Brooke well.She’s made a habit of shutting everyone out, forgetting to eat, letting everything beyond the breakup fray and fall apart because she doesn’t know how to sit with the hurt. Her sadness seeps into every corner of her life until it consumes her whole.
The last time Brooke walked out, the girls made her promise she would reach for one of them, that she would lean in instead of disappearing. That promise is the reason she is here now. She can’t do this alone.
She needs her family.
“Why don’t you and I go get dinner ready?” Clara asks Lala, motioning for her to follow.
“Oh, good idea,” Lala replies as she stands.
“Thanks, babe,” Alejandra says as she watches them disappear into the kitchen.
After the last of the flautas Lala made for dinner are eaten, they settle into the living room and put on a show, but Valeria barely follows it. Her thoughts loop relentlessly around one thing: this is it. Brooke isn’t coming back, and even if she does, Valeria is done. It’s something she doesn’t know how to make peace with—but she’s determined to follow it.
All night, Valeria dissolves into tears until sleep finally drags her under, only to wake up and do it all over again. She keeps waking up in the dark, each time with tears already on her face, as if her body is crying before she’s conscious.
Clara and Alejandra hold her through each sob. Sandwiching her in between them as they stroke her hair and whisper how much they love her, how the pain is temporary, how she’ll be okay, but no matter how much Valeria wants to believe it, she knows she won’t be; that she won’t ever recover from this.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CAMILA
Camila hasn’t heard from Valeria in days, and worry is creeping in. The last message she received from her was about Miso’s medication. The next day, Camila messaged her to say Miso was all better, but she never got a reply. Which, okay, isn’t a reason to worry; she probably got busy or something. Since then, Camila has texted her a few more times to check in, and there’s been no response. The only comfort she has is that Valeria’s read receipts are on, so she knows she’s seen them.
Camila has started to consider asking Ella if she knows what’s going on, but that feels like a boundary she should not cross. Especially since Ella thinks Camila has feelings for Valeria. So, with no way to contact her and nothing else to occupy her mind, Camila has started to wonder whether Valeria realized their friendship was too much for her to handle and didn’t know how to tell her, so ghosting her was the next best thing. It doesn’t match the image Camila has in her head about Valeria, but truthfully, how well could she know someone she just met?
Regardless of why or what is going on, Camila is on herway to her mother’s, and she needs to focus on how to get through that above all else. Her endless spiral on Valeria can wait.
She’s been dreading this since she agreed. The only thing she’s looking forward to is hugging her dad, who will probably disappear into his study the second lunch is over, leaving her unattended with her mom, which wouldn’t be a big deal if Camila didn’t have the most awful gut feeling about the day.
For the past few hours, all she has wondered is what her mom needs to tell her that’s so serious it has to be in person. All of her online research on strokes and their aftermath has her spiraling, diagnosing her mom with all sorts of things.
When she pulls up to her parents’ gate, she enters the code they’ve had since she was born, but of course, it fails. Probably her mom’s subtle way of letting her know it’s been a long time since she visited. Because what present child doesn’t have the code to their parents’ gate?
“Of course,” Camila whispers before hitting the call buzzer.
“Yes?” a voice she doesn’t recognize asks.
“Hi, I’m here to see my parents.”
“Name?”
“Camila,” she answers, doing her best not to roll her eyes. It’s not this woman’s fault. It’s probably another subtle jab her mom added to try to make her feel bad about how much distance she’s put between them until now.
After a few seconds, the gates slide open, and Camila drives through, her nerves already humming. She parks near the four-car garage, hoping she isn’t blockinganyone. With one last steadying breath, Camila heads for the front door.
She barely has time to lift her hand before it swings open, and her mother greets her with a sharp, “You’re late,” her perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised.
Camila glances down at her watch. She’s only three minutes past twelve, but she doesn’t argue. “Sorry,” she says instead.
Her mother hums. “Come in.”
When Camila steps in and takes her mother in entirely, her chest tightens. She’s always been a thin woman, but her mother looks fragile now. Without thinking, Camila reaches for her and pulls her in tightly. The scent of her floral perfume eases some of Camila’s nerves. Her mother tenses beneath the embrace before she eases into it.
“It’s good to see you,” her mother whispers.
“You too, Mom,” Camila replies, and she means it. No matter how much they butt heads, Camila loves her, even if she loves her the most from afar.
“Is thatmeu coração?” Camila’s dad’s deep voice booms down the hall.
