Chapter Eight #3
Valentina’s eyes narrow, but there’s something behind her expression—a quiet desperation. “Luciano is not good for her. She deserves to be with someone who has known her her whole life. And would do anything for her. And well, that person should have been me. So I’m going to stop this wedding.”
The calm with which she says this is mindboggling, but I can see it now—the love that blinds her.
The way she talks about Sofia isn’t just about protecting her.
Valentina really believes she’s the only one who should be with her.
I leap off the table, snatching the book from her hands to force her to look at me.
“Are you fucking insane? I was joking. You can’t destroy the wedding. Sofia is your best friend; why would you want to ruin something she’s spent so much time planning?”
“Because,” Valentina murmurs.
“Because what?” I reply impatiently.
“It’s my last shot, Valdes. I should have tried to do more when they started dating but I didn’t think it was serious.
Then they got engaged, but I didn’t think it would last. Now they’re about to actually get married.
I just—I can’t let that happen. She deserves to be with someone who appreciates her the way I do.
So I need to end it now before it’s too late. ”
“How do you even plan on doing that?”
“Well, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. But I need some help. An ally, if you will.” She grins mischievously at me.
I know that look way too well.
“Absolutely not.”
“Oh, come on. We’d make a great team! Listen, I’ll make you a deal. You help me end this wedding, and I’ll help you solve whatever silly mystery is in your father’s book, starting with the rice pudding recipe.”
“I can’t!” I exclaim. “I’m supposed to win an investment with Luciano, remember?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure no one knows you were an accomplice. You’ll be my silent partner. Listen, it will happen regardless, so you either help me and I help you, or you figure your stuff out yourself and I still go on with my plan. So what do you say?”
I can’t lose this investment. If I do, the chances of me losing everything increase exponentially.
I won’t be able to pay Gabriel the back rent and get us caught up.
If I’m exposed, I’ll lose the chance to show everyone I fit in with them.
That I’m not just the poor pitiful niece or cousin they probably mock as they eat caviar and drink expensive wine I can’t pronounce.
I’m somebody. I have a restaurant, and to their knowledge, I want to open another.
I know they don’t say it to my face, but it’s there, under the surface.
My mother used to say that’s why we never quite fit in with them—why there’s always been that invisible gap.
It’s as if no matter how hard I work, how much I try, I’ll never quite catch up to their world of wealth and success.
Maybe they don’t even notice, but I do. I feel it every time they talk about designers out of my price bracket, or when they would buy me extravagant gifts when I was younger and forget to take off the price tag, and I had to remind myself not to look at the cost.
But having Valentina help me with this book will make it so much easier to go through with my plan.
She’s been with the family longer than I have, thanks to my mother.
Valentina may have information I don’t have.
I can’t lose that chance, either. So, maybe I’ll lie.
Keep your friends close and enemies closer, right?
The closer I am to her, the better I can be at foiling her plans without her knowing.
“All right,” I finally decide. “Maybe I can help a bit.”
Valentina turns to me and smiles.
“I knew you’d do it—so, deal?”
She extends her hand out, waiting for mine. I take a deep breath and shake her hand.
“You’ve got a deal.”
She tosses me an apron, and I catch it, fumbling slightly. “All right, let’s see if you actually know what you’re doing,” she teases, her tone light but challenging. “I’m not doing all the work, though. This is a team effort.”
“Deal.”
As I tie the apron, the strings get tangled in a knot, and I mutter a curse under my breath.
“You’re a mess,” Valentina teases, stepping behind me. “Here, let me.”
Her fingers brush lightly against my back as she untangles the strings and ties them in a perfect bow. I try not to shiver at the contact. “Thanks,” I mumble, avoiding her gaze.
“Don’t mention it. Can’t have you tripping over yourself while we cook.”
“Ha-ha,” I deadpan, rolling my sleeves up.
We start working in sync, with Valentina expertly crushing a cinnamon stick while I zest an orange and lemon. The air fills with a mix of warm spices and bright citrus, and I can’t help but feel a sense of ease, even in her presence.
“Smell that?” she asks, holding the crushed cinnamon under my nose.
I lean in, inhaling deeply. “It smells incredible.”
Valentina smiles, her voice soft. “Kind of like home, doesn’t it?”
Something about her tone makes my chest tighten, and I nod, suddenly lost in the memory of my dad’s kitchen. “Yeah. Exactly like home.”
We rinse the rice together, Valentina nudging me with her elbow as I swirl it under the water. “You sure you know what you’re doing? Don’t want to mess up this sacred recipe.”
I smirk at her. “I’m a professional, remember? I run an actual restaurant, Garcia. I think I can handle a pot of rice.”
As the rice cooks, we take turns stirring it to make sure it doesn’t scorch. Valentina leans over me, her shoulder brushing mine. “The trick is to stir just enough, but not too much,” she murmurs.
Her proximity makes my pulse quicken, and I glance at her. “You don’t think I know that?” I ask, keeping my tone light.
She grins, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Just checking. Don’t want to lose the big investment.”
“Please,” I retort, rolling my eyes but smiling. “I’ve been making arroz con leche since before I could reach the stove.”
“Guess I’ll let you take the lead then,” she replies, stepping back with a playful shrug.
We add the three milks one at a time, stirring constantly until the mixture thickens. Valentina hands me a spoon to taste it. “Well?” she asks, watching me closely.
I take a bite, letting the creamy, cinnamon-infused flavors melt on my tongue. “It’s perfect.”
Her lips curl into a small smile. “Told you we’d make a good team.”
I roll my eyes but feel a warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with the stove. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”
As we spoon the pudding into ramekins and top each with a sprinkle of cinnamon and orange zest, Valentina glances at me. “You know, I think your dad would be proud.”
I look at her, struck by the sincerity in her voice. “Thanks, Val. That means a lot.”
She shrugs, but her gaze lingers. “Don’t mention it. You can head out to mingle with everyone. I just need to clean up a few things here.”
I turn around to see that the staff has already left. I didn’t even hear them. We must have been so caught up in our own work that they sneaked right by.
I rush to remove my apron and grab my things.
I take a look at my dress in the reflection of the cooler.
Could anyone tell that it’s cheap? I wish I knew more about fabric.
Maria said it was fine, but who knows with her.
This is the first night, and I should have dressed to impress with one of the dresses I borrowed from her.
As I’m about to leave, I pause for a moment.
Don’t do it, Isa. Leaving Valentina to clean up our mess at the last minute would mean she’d be late for dinner, and I need her there to help me sleuth.
I groan loudly and head back into the kitchen, throwing my stuff onto the counter.
I remove my shawl, collect all the dishes, and put them near the sink, where she’s already begun to wash them.
“What are you doing?” She looks at me, bemused.
“I’m helping you clean your dishes,” I reply. “I’m surprised your staff didn’t wash them. They did all the rest of them.”
“I always tell them to leave mine. I never want them to feel like I’m taking advantage of them. You don’t have to help me, Isa.”
“Yeah, I know. But then you’ll be late, and I need you.”
“You need me, huh?” Valentina jokes. “I like being late. That means I’ll miss most of the event and can just go back to the cabin and sleep while I dread tomorrow’s stupid hike I couldn’t get out of.”
“Well, I need you to help me figure out who the rice pudding is for. And, more importantly, I need to refresh my memory on family members so I can keep tabs on everyone. I have to solve this mystery,” I say, my voice more serious now.
“This journal—it’s not just recipes. There’s something buried in here that could change everything. I need to figure it out.”
I pause, glancing at Valentina. “And of course, I also need to secure that investment. That’s the only way I can save…
I mean grow the restaurant. So yeah, I’m juggling both,” I add with a hint of sarcasm.
“Plus, you could, I don’t know, figure out new ways to ruin their wedding.
And I’m actually happy to go on the hike tomorrow. ”
Valentina stays quiet for a moment, pondering my words.
“Why are you helping me right now?”
Honestly, I’m not entirely sure why I am.
It’s not as if I did this to her. She’s the one who has poor time management.
Plus, she’s practically forcing me to help her destroy my cousin’s wedding.
And after her rude comment about not falling in love with her, I should want to see her suffer.
But for some reason, I just want to be here.
Maybe it’s our history. Perhaps it’s the smell of vanilla in her hair.
“You helped me with the rice pudding. Just say thanks.”
“Oh. Right. Thank you. Seriously. This is nice of you. Even after I ruined your dress when we were younger. I’m seriously sorry about that. I promise I didn’t mean to.”
I freeze for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden apology.
This is something I’ve been holding on to for so long, and now that she’s finally bringing it up, it feels too quick, too easy.
I let the words hang in the air for a second longer than I should.
“I know,” I say slowly, feeling my words come out a little too stiff. “I forgive you…for that.”
I take a small step back, fiddling with my shawl as I look away, making sure not to get too comfortable with this moment. “But don’t think this is some big thing between us,” I add with a shrug, my voice light but guarded. “We’ll call it a truce. For now.”
Valentina’s eyes flicker with something I can’t quite place, but she just nods. “A truce it is,” she says, a faint smile tugging at her lips. I force a small smile back and turn toward the dishes, the moment passing, though the weight of it still hangs in the air.
While Valentina washes the dishes, I quickly dry them and put them away. It’s incredible how quickly one can move when they have someone helping. I wonder if my time prepping in the morning at La Mariposa would be cut in half if I just scheduled Faye to help me.
“So, why are you so excited about this hike?” Valentina asks, breaking the long silence as we meditatively clean the kitchen.
“I’ve always loved the idea of camp. Hiking, getting outside, doing something completely different—it’s kind of like my childhood dream coming true. I know Sofia used to come here a lot, and I always wanted to join her, but I never got the chance.”
I glance out the window at the foliage blooming in the mountains, a smile tugging at my lips.
“There’s something about being out here, you know?
It feels like an adventure. I think it all started with watching The Parent Trap when I was younger.
I became obsessed with all the fun activities—like fencing, the campfires, the freedom.
I guess this hike is my way of finally living a piece of that. ”
Valentina chuckles softly. “Well, I don’t think there’s fencing, but you’ll definitely get some adventure. Maybe even a little Parent Trap magic.”
I snort. “Yeah, I just need to find some Oreos and peanut butter to bring it all together.”
“Is that from the movie?” Valentina asks.
“Of course it is. Don’t you remember watching it?”
She shakes her head.
“We watched it when we were kids. I remember it vividly. You and Sofia were on the bed, and Maria and I were lying on the floor on a bunch of blankets and pillows. Tía Rosita ordered pizza, and we ate it straight from the box.”
Valentina tilts her head, thinking. “You know, that does sound kind of familiar.”
“It was one of those nights, you know? When we all hung out together, no drama. Just us, the movie, and way too much pizza.” I smile, thinking about how easy everything felt back then.
“You used to always make fun of the way they ate Oreos with peanut butter in the movie. You said it was disgusting.”
Valentina puts a hand to her chin, her eyes softening as if the memory is slowly coming back. “I guess I did say that, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you did. But you still tried it. You always did stuff like that—mock it, but then dive in anyway. That’s what made it fun.”
“Well, it must not have been that great if I can’t even remember it,” she says, though her tone lacks its usual edge.
I chuckle. “You were too busy trying to be cool to care about a camp movie.”
She smiles at that, and for a moment, I see a flicker of the girl she used to be. The one I used to laugh with, back when things were simple.
“It’s a great film about long-lost sisters and family and falling in love. What do you know about romance anyways?” I take a handful of bubbles created by the dish soap and blow it in her face. Valentina laughs as she wipes it away, her eyes beaming.
“Whatever you say, Isa,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“You know, I don’t need to help you.” I throw the towel down abruptly. “I can leave you to your mess.”
“No, don’t leave!” Valentina says in between giggles.
“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t,” I tease, feeling a strange sense of warmth creeping up my neck.
She wipes some sweat off her forehead with her shirt, and the movement sends a jolt through me. Maybe it’s the way her muscles flex, or the small veins on her forearm exposed by her rolled-up sleeve. My eyes linger longer than I’d like to admit.
“Well”—she grins, her voice softer this time—“I like your company.”
Her words hang in the air, and suddenly the room feels smaller. I try to laugh it off, but something about the way she says it—so sincere, almost intimate—makes my heart skip. I look away quickly, hoping she doesn’t notice the heat rising in my cheeks.