Page 37

"You're tired when you get home from work," her mother repeats, as if that's the only thing she knows how to do. "You're tired because you're out all night and then you can't even get up in the morning—which is exactly what you were already doing before you came here. So I find myself wondering what the hell any of this is even for."

"Blanca." Elvira steps forward and lowers her voice, tired of her sister's scene. "This is not the place for this."

Blanca turns toward her with eyes that have become two flamethrowers—though Claudia is sure that if her mother had superpowers, what she'd be firing would be blasts of ice.

"Then let's go somewhere else. I don't know why you made me come down here. I told you it'd be better to call her and have her come upstairs."

"I'm not going anywhere," Claudia snaps without moving.

Her mother stares at her and then looks back at Elvira, because she knows Elvira is the one Claudia will listen to. Claudia braces herself for the order—for her aunt to tell her it'll be five minutes, that there's nothing wrong with stopping to talk to her mother, because she knows that's what Blanca wants: for Elvira to agree with her, to take her side. But Elvira does none of that. She steps closer and plants herself between the two of them.

"You're the one who wanted this, Blanca," she says in a neutral tone. "You and Enric asked me to bring her here, and I agreed. But what I won't allow is for you to come in here and make a scene while she's working in my factory. You said you wanted to say hello and see how she's doing—well, you've done that. She's in one piece and she's doing her best. If you want to talk about anything else with your daughter, you call her on the phone and you do it outside of work hours."

The look on Blanca's face is priceless. She opens and closes her eyes in rapid succession, and the left corner of her mouth trembles slightly. Claudia would feel like laughing if it weren't for the fact that her aunt has just defended her, and that has thrown her completely off balance.

"Fine. Sunday, you come home for lunch. Two o'clock," Blanca snaps, and everyone there knows it isn't a suggestion for her daughter—not even an invitation—but an order she's expected to obey, because the family matriarch has spoken.

Claudia doesn't answer, and Blanca turns around.

"We'll see ourselves out—no need to walk me to the door," she says irritably, and she strides down the aisle until she reaches the door and disappears.

"Are you okay?" Elvira asks.

Claudia's throat is so tight it hurts when she swallows.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know she was going to unload all of that on you. She said she wanted to see you, and I thought—" Elvira bites her lip, annoyed with herself. "I don't know. I thought she wanted to know how you were doing, that she'd like to see you working. I didn't think she'd use it as an excuse to go off on you and throw things in your face."

Elvira feels the anger running through her veins. She wants to ask her niece what kind of relationship she has with her parents—what the hell is going on between them that makes everything so tense—but she senses she hasn't earned that trust yet. She thought having Claudia here might give them a chance to slowly rebuild the relationship they'd lost, but Claudia makes it hard, because most Mondays, when they meet, she's done something that forces Elvira to reprimand her instead of being close to her the way she'd like. Maybe she needs to try a different approach—start somewhere other than work, invite her for a drink one evening, to dinner at her place, or a walk some afternoon—but she finds it hard to find the right moment to make that offer, because she doesn't feel she has the right. Claudia was a little girl when the relationship with Blanca fell apart, but her sister never kept her from visiting. It was Elvira who, rather than put up with Blanca, accepted losing the relationship with Claudia.

"I'm sorry I let her come down."

"It doesn't matter. I'm used to it," Claudia says. "Anyway, if you don't need anything else, I have work to get back to."

"Of course." Elvira looks at her for a moment, then nods and leaves. And when Claudia sits back down and picks up the next piece, she can't concentrate at all—she can't even figure out where it's supposed to go, and she's been doing the same thing all morning.

Claudia is in a bad mood when she arrives at Nadia's club. After the conversation she had with Laia the day she walked her home, she made a promise to herself to start changing—not in any precise way, because she doesn't even know where to begin, but she told herself she'd force herself to hold it together while she was at the factory. Not for her parents, but for herself, because somehow what Laia told her only confirmed what she already knows: that she has a life full of privilege, and instead of using it to do something worthwhile, she spends money on parties and lets the months slip by as if they were a countdown to something she still doesn't know and that won't end well for her.

But her mother's visit has blown those plans to pieces. Claudia has spent the rest of the day anxious, bouncing her legs frantically, unable to stop thinking about the visit, her mother's tone, and that sickness that settles into her body and stays with her for days after seeing her. This is exactly why she doesn't go visit—because her parents drain her so completely that alcohol is the only thing that quiets the noise in her head, and, with any luck, a good orgasm that leaves her body loose and her muscles relaxed.

Pol didn't come tonight because he had an unavoidable family thing, but Claudia hasn't minded much, because Nadia was already circling the club when they arrived—plural, because Laia is in her usual corner, with her sparkling water and her phone in her hand to give her something to look at that isn't Claudia's body pressed against her lover's while they dance. Even so, her eyes lift every few seconds, as if she were a masochist. She should leave. In fact, she knows she shouldn't even be coming here, because she has zero influence over Claudia. She's been her babysitter for two months and hasn't managed to talk her out of going out even once. The only reason she keeps showing up—besides having orders from her boss to document every move her niece makes when she goes out—is that it lets her stay close to her. And even though it hurts a lot to watch someone else's hands and mouth all over her body, Laia cherishes those moments they spend walking together from her apartment to here. She loves watching her walk beside her with that hypnotic elegance. She loves the warmth in her eyes when she talks, and the sound of her laugh, which, in Laia's opinion, she should get to hear much more often.

But tonight something is different. There's something in the air that's off. Other nights, Claudia seemed to genuinely enjoy dancing with Nadia—when Nadia kissed her neck and her mouth, or pulled her close as if she owned her. Tonight she doesn't look like she's enjoying it. She's tense, serious, forcing smiles, and glancing over at Laia too often. Sometimes Laia thinks something is starting to take shape between the two of them, even if she can't name what it is—but then Nadia's lips catch Claudia's and she kisses back with a hunger that reminds Laia she could never do that, that Claudia's kisses could belong to anyone but her. And that has her furious.

So when a girl around her own age walks up brazenly and sits down beside her, Laia smiles back instead of telling her she's not interested. Maybe this is what she needs, even if it's not really her thing—one-night stands leave her feeling hollow the next day—but when she sees Claudia disappear through one of the staff doors with Nadia—not without holding Laia's gaze the whole way across the room—Laia decides to let herself go, because if she stays there thinking about what Claudia is doing, the urge to cry will make it impossible to say a single word.

She turns toward the girl, and they strike up a short conversation. Her name is Marta. She works at a bank and lives two blocks away.

She's attractive—hair cut just below her shoulders, dark eyes, full lips—and she's got an easy smile. A simple, young woman, but one who knows what she wants and doesn't hesitate to go after it.

"Will you slap me if I try to kiss you?" she asks, leaning in dangerously close.

Laia lets out a nervous little laugh and wonders what kind of women this girl has been with.

"You'll have to find out," she says, and she goes rigid when Marta leans in and catches her lips.

She pulls back quickly with a sweet smile, and after confirming there's no danger, she goes back in—this time with more urgency.