“Elena.”
“I mean it.”
He studied me.
Then nodded.
“No pressure.”
“Just the truth.”
“Yes.”
I stood.
“So will I.”
Marisol arrived an hour later.
She entered the hotel room carrying two grocery bags, a backpack for Lily, and the expression of a woman prepared to reorganize someone’s entire life before lunch.
“You look terrible,” she told me.
“Good morning to you too.”
“You need moisturizer.”
“I need a new existence.”
“That too.”
Then she hugged me.
I had expected questions.
Instead, she held me so tightly that I stopped breathing for a second.
When she stepped back, her eyes were wet.
“You scared me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Just warn me next time before the internet tells me you’re dating a billionaire.”
I groaned.
“You saw it.”
“My mother sent it to me.”
“Aunt Rosa?”
“At five thirty this morning.”
I covered my face.
Marisol laughed.
