Camila narrows her eyes, her head tilting slightly as she tries to make sense of what Valeria is saying. “You’reapologizing because there was an animal that needed your help, so you helped it?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Valeria laughs.
Camila reaches for Valeria’s hand, hoping the contact will emphasize what she’s going to say. “Valeria, you were at work, your phone died, and you don’t need to apologize for that. Plus, you’re here now. Everything is fine, I promise you.” She lets go, realizing her hands have started to tingle. She opens and closes them a few times, trying to get the feeling to simmer down.
“Now, why don’t you stop apologizing for literally the silliest things I’ve ever heard and instead tell me what you’d like to drink so I can go get it and you can tell me all about this last appointment of yours.”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
Camila nods and heads toward the bar—flags down a barista and orders two whiskeys.
When she makes it back, Valeria is staring out the window, completely engrossed in something.
“What’s got your attention?” she asks as she sets the cup in front of her.
“Nothing, just disassociating,” Valeria laughs. “Today was a long day. I took a few days off, and today was my first day back. So I’m extra tired.”
Something in Camila goes still, and an unease settles. “What’s going on?”
Valeria’s shoulders lift on a breath that sounds too heavy for her frame. She sinks onto the chair and scoots closer—not too close, but close enough that Camila feels the heat radiating off of her.
“Brooke and I broke up a few days ago,” she says, voice low. She presses the heel of her hand to her forehead as ifthe memory hurts to remember. “For good,” she adds in a softer voice.
Camila’s bottom lip juts out. “I didn’t know; I’m sorry.” And she is, but there’s relief tangled up in it, too. Relief at knowing Valeria won’t have to deal with Brooke anymore.
“I should have texted. I know I should’ve. I saw your messages. I just—my brain felt like someone unplugged it.”
The worry Camila had felt for those few days rearranges itself—less hurt now, and more protective. “You don’t owe me an explanation. Pain is funny in how it manifests. Sounds like you needed time to yourself to process. I can’t imagine you’ve had an easy few days, and sometimes explaining it all feels like too much on top of everything.”
Valeria looks up, eyes glowing with exhaustion. “I was so scared you’d be mad,” she admits. “Or done with me. Or ... I don’t know. Since we met, I have only brought drama.”
“Val,” Camila replies gently, “I’m not going anywhere. I think you’re wonderful. This is a tough time for you. What kind of friend would I be if I disappeared?”
She leans into Camila’s side enough that their shoulders brush.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “You are a much better friend than I deserve.” Valeria leans her head on Camila’s shoulder.
“That’s simply not true.” Camila rests her head on top of Valeria’s. Both of them hold that position until Valeria sits up a few seconds later.
“Is there anything you need? Do you want to talk about what happened?” Camila asks, doing her best to ignore a poorly covered yellowing bruise on Valeria’s chin.
It’s the first time she’s noticed it, and the sight of it makes Camila’s stomach lurch violently, and a wave of nausea rolls through her.
“Maybe not today. Why don’t you tell me about your day instead? How did it go with your parents?”
“I’m still reeling,” Camila admits, fingers slipping into her hair as she forces herself to stay present.
“Tell me more,” Valeria says as she takes a sip of her drink.
Camila takes a sharp breath. If Valeria wants to steer them somewhere else, she can follow, or at least she can try.
“My mom wanted me to come over because she was trying to set me up.”
“Oh no, with a man?” Valeria asks, eyes wide.
“That’s what I thought, so imagine my surprise when in walked this goddess of a woman in a very impressive suit.”
“Shut up. I thought you said your mom wasn’t supportive.”
