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They walked in silence. The next obvious question chased around Gabi’s head like a ball in a pinball machine. It bounced off the sign that said, “Don’t ask,” and past the one that said, “No, really, don’t ask,” and balanced precariously over the button that, depending which way the ball fell, would either open a door to Gabi or slam it firmly shut. “And you didn’t marry young,” she said. Okay, it was a statement. The softer option.

Aisha stared at Gabi, and the tingling brushed across her skin again.

“No.”

Gabi wished she could shut up, but she couldn’t hold back now. Gabi wanted to marry someone—the right woman—one day, and she needed to know Aisha’s thoughts on the topic, just in case. “Do you want to marry? You know, later, maybe?”

Aisha looked up the hill from where they’d just walked. “I dream of marrying someone I love with all my heart.”

Someone, not a man. The distinction was important, Gabi was sure of it. They stood in silence at the bus stop, and Gabi stuffed her hands in her pockets to stop herself from reaching out. God knows, she wanted to touch her. Aisha gazed in the direction the bus would arrive.

“Do you have a big family?” Aisha asked.

“No, just my nana and my dad. He’s in England.”

“No brothers, or sisters, or cousins?”

“None that I know of.”

Nana may have more pearls from her history hidden away that she hadn’t told Gabi about yet. But if she had any distant relatives in Spain, Gabi wouldn’t have the first idea where to start looking for them. Plus, since she wouldn’t know them from Adam or Eve, she had no urge to start looking either.

“And your mama?”

“I was three when she died.”

Aisha took Gabi’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

Gabi stared at Aisha’s hand around hers. The warmth nudged at the loss and loosened it a little. “They discovered she had breast cancer when she was pregnant with me. She refused treatment until after I was born. It was too late for her by then.”

“She was very brave.”

Gabi watched the tears well in Aisha’s eyes. She was relieved the despair that had surprised her earlier didn’t reappear, just a hollow emptiness and a little heartache. “Yes, she was. I don’t remember her at all, but I still miss her. Does that make sense?”

“A mama is important. I can’t imagine being without mine. I think you are brave too.”

Gabi shook her head. “How can I miss something I didn’t have?”

Aisha narrowed her gaze. “Love, of course.”

“What do you mean?”

“We know what love is. It’s in our heart. A mama’s love should be there, and if it’s not, we know it’s missing.” Aisha hugged Gabi. “I’m sorry for you.”

Gabi inhaled vanilla and closed her eyes. She didn’t want their time to come to an end, but it would have to. And it did, and it was all too soon, because she could have cried for longer and felt comforted, and it would have been better than going back to the hotel. She eased out of the hug and glanced up the hill to avoid Aisha’s gaze that would set the tears rolling again. “What about your family?”

“There’s Conchita, of course.” Aisha rolled her eyes. “Mama, Papa, Abuela, nine cousins, and too many aunts and uncles to keep track of, though we do, of course. We live close to each other. Our neighbours are also like family.”

“It must be nice having a big family.”

Gabi considered herself sociable by nature, but she wasn’t used to a crowd, especially when it came to family gatherings. It had been her dad and Nana for as long as she could remember, and even then, her dad’s positive contribution to their family dynamic was questionable. She hadn’t enjoyed the sense of loneliness that she’d experienced at the cemetery knowing it was really just her and Nana left. With a big family, there would always be someone to turn to, someone to feel close to, someone there to hug you when you needed it.

Aisha’s lips twitched at the corners, and her smile faded on a deep sigh. “My family mean everything to me,” she said.

“Let me guess. Everyone gets under each other’s feet, they’re into each other’s business, there’s big drunken parties, and lots of blazing arguments.”

Aisha laughed. “Exactly like that.”

“Sounds fun.”