Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
CAMILA
Going back to Valeria’s apartment feels surreal, and helping her pack her clothes even more so. Valeria is officially moving the majority of her things into Camila’s house today, and Camila is practically vibrating with excitement.
Today is the start of their life together, forming a home, a family, the two of them and Miso. Absolutely nothing could rob her of that happiness.
Three hours, six exceptionally stuffed bags, and several trips to the dumpster later, she and Valeria are ready to go.
“All set?” Camila asks softly, her thumb tracing idle circles along Valeria’s wrist as Valeria takes her mostly empty apartment in.
Valeria bites her lip before swinging her arms over Camila’s shoulder. “I’m ready for absolutely anything as long as it’s with you,” she murmurs. “Take me home.” She leans in, pressing a deep kiss to Camila’s lips.
Home. Their home. Camila could cry at the thought, out of pure happiness. When they make it back, the feeling only intensifies as Valeria hangs her clothes in the primary closet, all her colorful dresses, shirts, and skirts contrasting with all of Camila’s blacks, grays, and navies.
Valeria places a few of her books on the living room shelves before moving around, placing the forty potted plants she insisted on keeping—even though the house is already overflowing—wherever they fit—placing the toxic ones high up and away from Miso.
Somehow, every single one of her plants miraculously survived nearly a month without watering, with only about half needing a light pruning of their dried leaves.
This has ended up with Valeria making a mess in the kitchen, plants and dirt everywhere, but Camila can’t seem to care.
Too happy seeing small touches of Valeria everywhere.
Even with the small things Valeria has added, the house feels warmer and looks homier.
“Need help?” Camila asks, hugging Valeria from the back, before placing a kiss on her shoulder.
Valeria shakes her head. “I’m almost done.” She turns and kisses Camila’s cheek. “Thank you.”
Camila’s phone rings. She ignores it at first, too focused on her girlfriend to care about anything else in the world, but when it rings again, Valeria says, “It’s probably your mom, you should pick up.”
Camila has to force herself to peel away from Valeria, lingering a second longer before she reaches for her phone. The screen confirms what she already suspects—Mom. Every Saturday evening for the past month, her mom has called like clockwork. To “catch up.”
It’s still weird, this new closeness, this slow rebuilding of their relationship.
One that used to seem shattered beyond repair, but they’re trying.
Camila’s mom seems to have smoothed over the past entirely, as if there had never been a time when her daughter loving a woman would have been anything but acceptable.
However, Camila is still learning how to exist in this new reality, still untangling years of hurt, but she welcomes it.
She holds on to it. For the first time, she can look forward to a future where she doesn’t have to hide from her mom, where she can show her the beautiful love she shares with Valeria, where it can simply exist in the open, honest and unashamed.
Camila is grateful for the baby steps, especially because her mom seems genuinely excited to learn more about Valeria.
The sudden uptick in phone calls since she told her mom she had a girlfriend hasn’t gone unnoticed.
Camila is sure they have less to do with her and more to do with the chance to talk to Valeria.
“Hey, Mom,” Camila answers.
“Hello, Camila. How are you?”
“Good. Valeria and I are organizing the house.”
“Oh, tell her I say hello,” her mother says, as she always does, before asking about the past week.
Camila shares about her work, and about Valeria’s, before telling her that Valeria is officially moving in, and the delighted squeal that bursts from her mother catches her off guard. Both Camila’s and Valeria’s eyebrows disappear into their hairlines.
“Oh, that’s good to hear. We can’t wait to meet her.”
“Tomorrow,” Camila assures her.
“Noon still works?”
“Noon still works.”
“Wonderful. Does Valeria have any allergies or food restrictions?”
“She can’t have gluten, but that’s it.”
Valeria gives Camila two thumbs-up.
“I’ll let the chef know. We’ll see you both tomorrow. Goodnight,” her mother says, hanging up before Camila can respond.
Camila exhales a small laugh. She’s probably worried they’ll change their mind and doesn’t want to give them the chance to take it back.
“I’m excited to meet her,” Valeria says, leaning in to rest against Camila’s shoulder.
“You’ll be the first of my girlfriends they’ll ever meet.”
Valeria straightens, eyes warm as she looks at her. “First and last,” she says with certainty, a smile curving at the corners of her mouth. “Just like your dates. Since I was your first . . . and your last.”
Camila smiles at the promise in those words, at the idea of a lifetime with Valeria. It still doesn’t feel like it will ever be enough—but she thinks she could learn to settle for forever.
Camila’s tires crunch on the gravel as she pulls into her parents’ driveway, and she takes a deep breath. Her heart is pounding, and her hands feel cold and clammy.
“It will all be okay, baby,” Valeria says, lifting one of Camila’s hands and placing a tender kiss on her palm.
Camila nods, and before she can overthink it and drive them back to their house, she says, “Let’s go.”
From the moment Camila knocked on her parents’ door, everything Camila had imagined on her drive over fell painfully short of all the sincere excitement and affection that wrapped around them the moment she and Valeria stepped into her parents’ house.
Camila expects tension somewhere—an awkward pause, a wave of hesitation—but it never comes. Instead, her mother welcomes Valeria with a glowing smile and open arms, her father pulls her into a massive bear hug, and Camila finally exhales.
All afternoon, Camila glows with disbelief, a living constellation of surprise—soft laughter and wide eyes—as her parents interact with Valeria with such ease that her eyes sting in a way she hadn’t anticipated.
The moment they sit at the table, Camila’s mother reaches for Valeria’s hand. “So,” she says warmly, squeezing gently, “tell me how you two met. I want all the details.”
Her mom already knows the story, but Camila appreciates her making conversation.
Valeria lets out a nervous laugh—Camila catches it immediately, she’s learned every version of that sound, but to anyone else, it will go unnoticed.
Camila reaches for Valeria’s hand under the table, and her shoulders relax as she begins. Camila watches her parents lean in, listening intently and firing off one thoughtful question after another, and following every answer with more questions.
Camila clears her throat and laughs softly, reminding them to ease up.
“We’re sorry, honey, this is just so exciting for us.
We’ve never met any of Camila’s frie—” He mother stops mid-sentence, and the room goes quiet.
Camila catches the pause, the recalibration.
When her mother continues, her tone is warm.
“We’ve never met any of Camila’s girlfriends.
” Her mother smiles—small at first, then fully.
Like the word has always belonged in her vocabulary.
There’s no hesitation in it, only tenderness and a hint of pride as she looks between them.
From across the table, Camila feels something shift in the room. The way her mother searched for the right word, the care and intentionality in correcting herself, wraps around Camila like a steady embrace, filling her with a warmth she hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath for.
Acceptance blooms in her chest, soft and steady, until it’s all she can feel, and she realizes this is what she’d been waiting for: acknowledgment, not a setup with a random woman or an apology from her mom—who had probably rehearsed it thirty times—but a moment that doesn’t demand performance.
For the first time tonight, Camila doesn’t feel like she brought someone home to meet her family, but like she finally brought her whole self.
When Camila and Valeria find a moment alone, Camila brushes her thumb over Valeria’s hand and whispers, almost in disbelief, “I can’t believe how good this is going.
I thought today would be a disaster, and that I’d be nervous and scared the entire time.
” She shakes her head slowly. “But it’s been . . . perfect. You’re perfect here.”
The way Valeria’s smile blooms makes Camila’s heart ache with joy, and Camila squeezes her hand harder.
“Nothing has ever felt this right.” Camila’s voice softens, almost breaking. “Thank you for being here. For choosing this. For choosing me.”
“You make it easy,” she whispers, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “No one has ever made me feel this safe.”
Valeria’s forehead rests gently against Camila’s, and her fingers curl into the fabric of her shirt.
“For the first time,” she whispers, “I don’t feel like I’m waiting for it to fall apart. When I’m with you, everything feels clearer. Calmer. Even scary things, like meeting your parents, feel doable.”
Camila doesn’t have time to answer before Valeria leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.