“You had Abuela’s food? When?” Cami looks up at me with wide eyes.
I glance toward Lana for approval before I say something I shouldn’t. She gives me a small nod, and I let out a breath of relief.
“She worked here while I visited in the summers growing up and cooked the best food I’ve ever had. After your mom, that is”
Cami’s eyes look about ready to pop out of her head from how hard she is straining them. “Really?”
Lana looks away, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath.
“Yup.”
Cami’s grin widens even more. “Did you like her?”
“It was impossible not to. Every person who met her loved her.” I mean every word. Señora Castillo had this energy about her that made everyone want to stick around. She loved to cook, clean, and tell stories while doing both, which was a welcomed change compared to the nannies I spent time around growing up.
It’s one of the reasons I loved visiting for the summers, although my brothers didn’t share the same feelings.
“Do you miss her?”
Cami’s question makes my chest pinch with uncomfortable tightness.
“Yes, I do. I wish I could have said goodbye.”
Lana’s hands grasping on to Cami’s shoulders tighten.
“Where were you?” Cami’s brows pull together.
Lana shakes her head. “Por favor, no más preguntas. Me has hecho suficiente por hoy.”
“But—”
“Why don’t you go set the table while I talk to Cal?”
“Okay!” Cami barrels toward the small kitchen table we pushed into a corner to allow for more space for all the toys.
“If you want to have dinner with us, you can.” She brushes some flour off her apron.
“I don’t want to impose.”You’re such a rotten liar.
My stomach betrays me as it growls loud enough for Lana to hear it. She cracks a small smile. It’s the first one I’ve seen directed toward me in days, and I soak it up like a plant deprived of sunshine.
“Just go take a seat at the table while I get the arepas.”
“Arepas?”
“Y chorizo.”
My mouth waters. “Chorizo? Do you need any help?”
“I’ve been cooking food for years without any help, so I think I can manage just fine on my own, but thanks.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to make a man feel useful every now and then.”
She bats her lashes. “Would you like me to find a lightbulb that needs changing?”
I give her a little shove on the shoulder, and she curls over laughing. The sound feels as if I just injected pure serotonin into my veins.
The timer on the oven beeps, stealing Lana and that rush of happiness with her.