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“What is that?” Lola barked.

Carmen laughed. “Man, you’re really unfamiliar with coffee that’s not from that one place you always go to.”

Lola clenched her jaw, but this time it was obviously to stop herself from smiling. “Why did you go without me?” Her tone was accusatory, but her energy was so bright it was sparkling.

“You mean why did I do something super normal like surprise you with something nice?” She lifted the box of pastries. “Can I come into my own hotel room or what?”

Lola moved back, holding the door open so Carmen could enter. Slipping past her, she gave Lola a peck on the lips before kicking off her shoes.

Carmen left the tray on the nightstand before sitting crossed-legged on the messy bed, pastry box next to her. She waited until Lola sat down to open the box.

“How long do you think we have to date before you stop being suspicious of everything I bring you?” Carmen asked before taking a chocolate croissant after Lola took the pumpkin scone.

Lola’s hesitation made Carmen regret her question. She’d been going for cute, but she’d only managed to dim Lola’s light.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” Lola put her food back untouched. “I might as well tell you this now. Before you realize that this whole thing is probably a waste of time.”

Carmen tossed her croissant back in the box and scooted closer to Lola. “Hey, why would you say that? I don’t—”

“You don’t know me,” Lola snapped, but Carmen read her hurt, not anger. She closed her eyes, taking a breath. “My family isn’t like yours,” she said, jaw tight and neck flushing deep red.

Carmen wanted to object. To tell her that she didn’t know her family to make that judgment, but she realized that Lola meant that as a comment on her own family, not Carmen’s. She leaned closer, putting her hand on Lola’s lap.

“It’ll be great ammunition,” Lola said, eyes cast down like she couldn’t bear to look at Carmen. “You’ll have the perfect thing to throw in my face. To use against me—”

“I wouldn’t,” Carmen swore, squeezing her leg, wishing she could undo all their stupid fights, all the harsh barbs and ridiculous antics.

“Maybe you’ll have a good laugh when this temporary insanity of wanting to get to know me passes—”

“Hey,” Carmen took her hand, “look at me.” She knew it in her bones that Lola was testing her. Pushing to see if she meant what she’d said about getting to know her. Carmen was steadfast, refusing to be pushed back even an inch. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but if youwantto share… I want to know everything about you,” she vowed.

When Lola finally looked up at her, her eyes were glossy. Straightening, she lifted her chin and nodded.

“My dad disappeared when I was a toddler. He didn’t even pull the carton of milk lie.” She shrugged. “He just left. Very naturally, my mother blamed me. Not my older brother, who was constantly getting arrested. Not herself in any possible way because she’s physically incapable of taking blame or apologizing, for that matter.” She shifted. “Me. A two-year-old who looked exactly like the man that couldn’t be bothered with any of us.”

Carmen shut her eyes tight, old pain coming off of Lola in suffocating waves.

“My mother…” she took a deep breath, “is about as mature as a tween and as nurturing as a scorpion.” She shrugged again, like she wanted Carmen to think none of it bothered her. “I’ve been the only adult in my family since I was thirteen. Since I forged a bunch of papers to get my first job so that we wouldn’t get evicted. When I was in high school, I got a second job cleaning office buildings at night. My grades were perfect, and I was offered scholarships. I took the one that included books and housing and a monthly stipend and for the first time in my life, I was free.” She shook her head. “And my mother’s life fell apart and my brother went to prison. So then I had to go to college, to grad school, all while working so that my mother wouldn’t end up on the street.”

“Lola—”

“No one has ever given me anything, Carmen.” Her voice cracked. “No one has ever thought aboutmein my life, and I’m not sure that I know how to accept how thoughtful you are. Hownotdysfunctional you are. What do you think of that, huh? Super hot, right?” The rhetorical question seethed with sarcasm and fear and old anger.

Tears stung the back of Carmen’s eyes, her heart shattering. She understood all at once why Lola was always looking for an attack. Why it had been so difficult for her to let down her guard. She’d never been able to entrust her safety — her care — to anyone else. Not even her own mother. Carmen couldn’t imagine it.

Carmen didn’t say anything. Didn’t tell her she was sorry, because that was too small a word. Didn’t tell her how fucked up it was for her mother to put so many burdens on her because she feared that Lola would misinterpret her sentiment as judgment.

Instead, Carmen pushed the pastry box aside and pulled Lola close. She wished she could tuck Lola into her chest. That she could hide her behind her ribs and fix the injustice she’d been born into through no fault of her own.

Lola didn’t cry, but she returned her embrace and nestled her face in Carmen’s neck. She inhaled her.

Wishing they weren’t leaving on a redeye that night, that they had more time in this place to get to know each other without the rest of the world closing in on them, Carmen crushed Lola against her.

“Have you ever talked to a therapist about this?” Carmen asked gently.

Lola tightened before leaning back, but she didn’t pull away. “What is a therapist going to tell me that I don’t already know?” She offered a humorless laugh. “I already know my mom messed me up. That I’m a parentified child with trust issues. I have Google.”