Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CAMILA
When Camila gets home, everything is too quiet. It’s not a peaceful quiet either, but the kind that, if she pays too much attention to, will make the walls feel like they’re boxing her in.
It hits her then, how quickly she’d gotten used to Valeria being around over the last few weeks. She knew she was going to miss their nightly rituals, but she hadn’t realized just how much.
Valeria reminded Camila how much she loves coming home to someone, cooking for two instead of one, and hearing about someone else’s day—though she suspects she’d enjoy hearing just about anything Valeria has to say.
One night, Valeria went on a thirty-minute spiel about a charcoal induction she’d had to do that day and the mess it had made in the back room.
Probably not the most appropriate dinner talk, but frankly, Camila didn’t care; she enjoyed seeing Valeria tell her story, animated, hand flying everywhere.
More than anything, though, Valeria highlighted how much she’s pulled back from dating. Camila had never given it much thought, sort of just chalked it up to enjoying her newfound freedom, but Valeria made her realize she’d been running from it. Afraid of stumbling into someone like Eileen again.
Camila glances at the couch and sees the blankets Valeria had been using folded neatly. She sits beside them, as if the proximity to something she touched will make everything feel less empty, a tiny reminder that she was here.
She knows she shouldn’t; her feelings for Valeria are already so complicated, but she can’t keep herself from taking the top blanket and wrapping herself in it, letting Valeria’s scent take over her senses.
The smell of Valeria’s soft floral perfume fills the air, washing over Camila, and a quiet joy settles in her chest.
Night rolls over her unexpectedly. She wakes up wrapped in the same blankets Valeria used. No clue when she knocked out. She didn’t mean to fall asleep on the couch, but enveloped in Valeria’s scent, how could she not?
Morning goes on autopilot. Coffee brewing, shower running, eggs sputtering in the pan.
The routine is the same, but everything inside it feels slightly out of place.
Every little motion reminds her of the space Valeria isn’t filling, of how easy it was to have her there.
The house feels a few sizes too big now, as if it stretched overnight. Even Miso seems quieter than usual.
Work is its usual blur of paint, putty, and trying not to inhale dust. By the time Camila gets home that evening, she’s tired enough that muscle memory kicks in.
She opens the door and calls out for Valeria.
Silence answers, and she remembers—she’s not there.
Camila stands in the doorway for a second, keys still in hand, feeling a sick emptiness settle in the pit of her stomach.
She tells herself she’s overthinking, that a few weeks with someone isn’t enough time to miss them like this, but she does, even if she can’t explain it.
They’ve been texting all day, but it hasn’t felt like enough. So when Valeria suggests they FaceTime later and watch their show together, Camila feels this wave of relief wash over her. Maybe she isn’t the only one missing what they had; maybe Valeria missed it too, misses her, too.
As the house settles into its usual nighttime clicks and sighs, Camila begins making dinner with a bit more excitement than usual. By six o’clock, she’s finished preparing pasta with meat sauce. She plates her food, carries it to the couch, and settles in before opening her laptop to call Valeria.
The line rings twice before Valeria’s face pops onto the screen, her damp blond hair hanging loosely over Camila’s oversized gray hoodie—a hoodie Valeria apparently stole.
The sight of it tightens Camila’s chest, and her heart hammers against her ribs—a frantic rhythm that echoes in the quiet of her home.
Somehow it makes her feel closer, like she’s holding Valeria by proxy.
“Is that my sweater?” Camila smiles widely. So widely, in fact, she’s worried she looks ridiculous, but she can’t help it, even as her cheeks ache with the effort.
A flush creeps up Valeria’s neck. “Maybe.”
“You’re a thief!”
“I am not! It was in my bag when I opened it. I washed it, meaning to give it back, but then I saw it today folded on my dresser, and I remembered how soft it was, and I couldn’t help myself.”
Camila shakes her head. “You can have it; it looks better on you anyway.”
“Really?” Valeria smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling into soft crow’s-feet.
Camila nods—happy to be a small reason for that smile.
They briefly catch up on their day. Camila tells Valeria all about the painting she’s restoring, now that she’s done with Ella’s project, and Valeria recounts in detail all her appointments.
“You ready?” Valeria asks, already grinning, thumb hovering over the play button.
“Yeah,” Camila says.
They count down together. Three, two, one. The show’s intro echoes through Camila’s phone, perfectly synced, and she feels a small, irrational victory bloom in her stomach.
Ten minutes in, Valeria pauses the episode.
“Nope,” she says. “Back it up. What did that note say?”
They both investigate, and when neither can figure it out, they move past it.
The episode rolls on, but Camila catches herself watching Valeria’s face more than the screen, the way her eyebrows knit when something doesn’t add up, and the way her nose scrunches when she laughs.
It’s ridiculous how much relief lives in this moment, even through the phone.
The night continues like this, one of them pausing, both of them dissecting every little moment until the episode is done and they’re forced to say goodbye.
But neither of them hangs up right away—just a quiet stretch of soft breathing on the line,
“So . . . next episode tomorrow?” Valeria says, breaking the silence.
“Tomorrow,” Camila answers, trying to sound casual. Doing her best to pretend this won’t become the highlight of her days.
They draw out their goodbyes, saying it multiple times because one never feels like enough until the call ends.
The next morning, Camila is dragged out of sleep by her phone buzzing against her chest. She needs to stop lying on the couch wrapped in Valeria’s blankets—her back is already threatening to make her regret it.
Camila doesn’t check the screen, still half-tangled in blankets and a dream she vaguely remembers.
“Hello?” Camila’s voice is rough, sleep-soaked.
“Wow. I didn’t think you would pick up.” That tone snaps her awake. Camila sits up and looks at the screen.
Mom.
“Hi, Mom,” Camila says, a little more awake now.
“I’ve been trying to reach you. You never answer anymore.”
Camila rubs her eyes. “Yeah. I’ve been busy with work,” she lies. Her mom has been texting her a lot lately, and Camila hasn’t been ignoring her per se, but she has been slow to respond.
“Well,” her mother sighs, one that’s more disappointment than anything else, “I wanted to hear your voice. Make sure you’re . . . okay, catch up a little.”
“I’m fine, Mom. Nothing new to report.”
“Mmh.” A tiny, clipped sound. “Zoe came by a few days ago.”
“Did she?” Camila asks, already feeling a sinking in her chest.
“She mentioned the two of you went out.”
Camila rubs the back of her neck, as if she can scrub the guilt from her skin and make it disappear. “Yeah, we did.”
“Is there a reason I’m finding out through her and not you? I thought you were going to try to involve me in your life more.” Her mom sounds almost hurt as she says this, and Camila’s stomach churns.
She hadn’t told her mom about her date with Zoe, because it hadn’t occurred to her. She knows her mom wants to be more involved, but a part of her still doesn’t fully believe it—she still can’t come to terms with this new reality, and she hates it.
The closeness between her mom and Zoe also unsettles her a little. It’s the main reason Camila hasn’t gone out of her way to see Zoe again, even though she really likes her.
Camila shuts her eyes. “You’re right, Mom, I should have told you. I’m still wrapping my head around it all.”
“I don’t understand. I thought everything was fine. Is this you trying to punish me?”
“What? No. I’ve—” Camila takes a sharp breath, steadying herself for this conversation. “I have never been able to share that part of my life with you before, and I honestly didn’t think about it. I guess it’ll take some getting used to.”
“That’s what your father said. Why don’t you come over this weekend? You can tell us all about it. Zoe was a little lax on details.”
“I would, but I have plans with a friend.” It’s a lie, but she doesn’t want to walk through her date with Zoe right now.
She isn’t ready for the questions or the excitement her mom is bound to show her.
Camila doesn’t know how to tell her mom that the relationship she’s rooting so hard for won’t work. Camila isn’t ready to disappoint her.
Camila’s mom hums. “Okay, well. We would like to see you soon, so please prioritize that.” The word prioritize lands like an order.
So she does.
December passes quietly, the days blurring together without much happening.
Camila visits her parents a few times, and on Christmas Eve, she ends up stuck at her dad’s Christmas party.
Valeria keeps Camila entertained with texts, jokes, and updates from her own holiday.
Having Zoe there also makes the night easier.
Still, there’s a flutter of nerves at seeing her.
Not the same as the last time they met, no.
This is different, softer. Still unsettling, but in a way that feels .
. . hopeful. Camila promised herself she’d talk to Zoe, make sure they’re both on the same page.
Zoe is sweet, funny, and easy to talk to, and Camila really wants to be her friend.
It’s been so long since Camila made a friend, since she’s had someone she could just call.
Someone she didn’t have to filter herself around.
She lost her closest friends in the fallout of her breakup with Eileen, and the handful of friends she made in Chicago have stayed firmly in the “casual” category.
Friendly, but distant. They check in on each other once in a while, but that’s slowly fizzling out the longer she’s in Washington.
Zoe feels different, though. Like someone Camila could actually grow close to.
Camila exhales slowly as she approaches Zoe.
“Hey,” Zoe says, smiling when she spots her.
Just like that, some of the tension loosens in Camila’s chest; she can do this.
“Hey,” she replies.
Camila shifts her weight, then lets out a small, almost self-conscious laugh. “I told myself I wasn’t going to overthink this, and now I absolutely am.”
Zoe’s smile softens. “What’s up? Everything okay?”
“Yeah . . . just—” Camila lets out a small breath, glancing around before settling her gaze back on Zoe. “All of this is kind of overwhelming. I haven’t been to one of my parents’ holiday parties in years.”
Zoe tilts her head, studying her, then lets a subtle smile return. “Want to get out of here?” she says, a hint of mischief threading through her tone. “We can make a quiet escape.”
Camila’s pulse ticks up. She nods, then hesitates. “Yeah, that sounds great, but I want to talk to you about something first.”
“Yeah?” Zoe’s voice softens, attentive now.
Camila shifts her weight, fingers fidgeting briefly at her side. “God, I don’t know how to say this.”
Zoe doesn’t interrupt. She just watches her, patient, her expression slightly worried.
Camila takes another breath. “Zoe . . . I like you. A lot. You’re honestly amazing, but I’m not good at casual dating. I’d rather be upfront about that. I don’t want to risk turning this into something that ends up messy . . . or losing the chance to be friends.”
Zoe holds her gaze, the corners of her mouth softening into a thoughtful smile. “Okay,” she says quietly, her tone warm.
“Really?” Camila asks, almost in disbelief.
Zoe nods. “I like you too, Cam. I kind of figured from the moment you left my place that you weren’t looking for the same thing.” Her smile deepens slightly. “I’m glad you told me, though. I’d still love to be friends.”
Camila returns the smile, a sense of relief settling in.
Shortly after their conversation, they grab their stuff and say goodbye to Camila’s parents and head back to Zoe’s apartment, slipping into an easy back-and-forth as they chat about random things.
Once there, they open a bottle of wine, settling in as music plays quietly in the background and the night just kind of flows with laughter and conversation.
Before long, New Year’s Eve arrives, and she and Zoe meet up with Valeria before heading over to Lily and Isabella’s place.
As midnight approaches, they all gather together, voices blending into a single excited countdown. Valeria and Camila stand close, stepping into the new year side by side.