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“But it’s the only way to be free,” she said, voice soft and eyes softer, betraying the pain Carmen was only beginning to comprehend.
In all their late-night talks, Lola had yet to share a single memory of her family or childhood that wasn’t heartbreaking or infuriating. Even Lola’s accomplishments as a kid were marred by the fact that she’d had no one to cheer her on. Not a single person taking care of her first.
Lola met her gaze then, some tension leaving her shoulders. “No more allowances for people who just see me as an escape hatch when they’re in a bind.” She brightened. “I have to make room for the people who make me happy. For the things that serve me. For myself.”
Carmen reached up to hold Lola’s face in her hand. Chest tight and stomach fluttering so hard she was sure she was going to have to pack up dinner and have it for lunch, Carmen smiled. “Are you trying to ace therapy by undoing thirty-three years of trauma in a week?”
A faint smile ghosted Lola’s lips before she took a sip of wine. “I mean, I do talk to her every day, and I’m a very good listener when I want to be.” She let her gaze drip down Carmen’s neck and over her cleavage. “Wouldn’t you say?”
Lola’s flirtation was a hint that she’d reached her max vulnerability for the moment, so Carmen held off telling her how proud she was. How she recognized her hard work and was incredibly impressed by her dedication to healing. Instead, she kissed her and talked about the new restaurant she wanted to try for brunch.
Laughing to herself, Carmen couldn’t imagine what she would have said four months ago if someone had told her she and Lola would be brunching. Maybe it would depend on whether they’d had their fender-bender yet.
After a dinner that was borderline terrible, but Lola ate while insisting it was good, Carmen got in the shower to get the smell of food out of her hair. Lola had been on her way in behind her when a call from Prague derailed her.
When Carmen returned, Lola was sitting on her bed in nothing but underwear, typing away on her phone.
“Everything okay with Starla?” Carmen wrapped a towel around herself as she neared Lola.
Dark eyes looked up at her. “Oh, yeah. I handled that. I just…” her attention shot to the garment bag Carmen had left on the closet door after picking up her dress from the dry cleaner. “I peeked at what you’re wearing to the gala.”
Carmen furrowed her brow before sitting next to Lola on the bed. “Okay?” Carmen wasn’t understanding what Lola wasn’t saying. Glancing down at her phone, she glimpsed the name of an overpriced clothing designer. “I thought you already had something to wear.”
“It’s not good enough,” she replied, voice and body tight.
“What? Says who?” Carmen slipped her arm in Lola’s. “You showed me a picture, it’s—”
“It’s old.”
“It’s not old—”
“It’s not good enough for your parents,” Lola confessed, looking away like the truth had been tortured out of her.
“Lola,” Carmen said softly, her hand gliding softly up Lola’s back and her other hand in her lap. She kissed her shoulder. “Please?”
Lola reluctantly met her gaze, lips pressed into a tense line.
“You are more than good enough,” Carmen said firmly. “My parents are going to love you—”
“They’re going to think I’m not good enough for you. That you’re over here slumming it—”
“Are you kidding? You’re their Cuban parent wet dream. A smart, driven, self-made woman who worked her ass off to achieve success?” She smiled, hoping to coax one from Lola. “My mom is always complaining our generation has no work ethic. But you put yourself through school, built a career from nothing. That’s so much more impressive than coasting on family money and connections.”
Uncertainty still clouded Lola’s features. “That’s how you see me?”
“Of course it is,” she promised. “Do you realize how much harder it is to swim against the current? You put yourself through school, had to always give yourself support — you don’t think most people would give up and let the tide drag them wherever? It must be so exhausting to never relax. To never stop, never let your guard down…” She stopped herself from mansplaining Lola’s own upbringing to her. She kissed Lola softly, lingering to savor her lips. “I know it’s not easy to turn off those critical voices after a lifetime. But you are more than good enough.”
Lola sighed, some tension leaving her body as she rested her forehead against Carmen’s. “How are you so annoyingly perfect?” she murmured. “You’re going to get sick of me being like this. I’m sure your ex-girlfriend wasn’t so messed up—”
“My last girlfriend also didn’t give me the nerve to tell my mother I was going to California in the middle of the week, or tell Barry what I really thought of his crap.”
Lola laughed, a soft rumble in her throat that sounded too much like a miracle. “Coming for the man’s pullout game was savage.”
Carmen laughed, relieved that Lola hadn’t run from her discomfort. Hadn’t freaked out or spiraled. “What was your last girlfriend like? You’ve never told me about her.”
Pulling Carmen into her lap, hands around her waist and holding her addictively close, Lola shrugged. “What we had wasn’t really worth talking about.” She kissed a line over Carmen’s chest. “Not like my current… person I’m seeing,” she said before glancing up at her.
“Person you’re seeing, huh?” Carmen traced her fingertips along Lola’s collarbone. “Is that your subtle way of asking if we’re exclusive?”
