Page 124 of Painting Celia

Her eyes flickered down. “Ah.”

“Girl, we’re worried.”

“I’m just busy. I’ll have more time after the grand opening. You and Trevor and Kelsey can come see it, come hang out. After I move—”

“We just want to see you,” he interrupted. “You stopped replying to us. I was worrying about you hiding away again. We’re still here. You don’t have to bury yourself in this.”

“I do, though. I want this. I have to make it work!”

“You sound like León,” he said.

Oh, that hurt!

“This isn’t picture painting,” she scowled. “This is my whole future.”

His eyebrows cocked at her. “You’re doing it alone?”

Celia’s lips compressed into a line.

“Look,” he said. “You two broke up, and then both disappeared. I’m worried about you.”

León had disappeared? Not just to New York? He’d left the group chat. Had he not talked even to—stop. Stop.

“I have to focus on Incubadora.”

“You can’t do that forever.”

“I can right now.”

“León—”

“I don’t want to talk about León!” she snapped, standing to glare down at him.

Andrew spread his hands. “Okay. Maybe later. I just…okay.”

She struggled to calm herself. Tranquila.

“Come by later this week and see your classroom,” she said stiffly. “Tell me if you need anything else in there. I’ve only got a few weeks to get it ready for you.”

He twisted his mouth, disappointed. “And I’m dismissed until then. Okay, girl, I give in. You better text Kelsey, though. She’s been frothing to come over.”

Good lord. She wasn’t up to that.

Twenty Four

León tired of walking all day. The sights were starting to blur together, not offering the distraction he needed. It was harder to stay numb. It took a lifetime of practice he just didn’t have.

Sitting stagnant in his parents’ home wasn’t better.

His mother sat in the living room, alone. León drifted from his room to lean against the wall in the hallway, watching her resting on their couch, listening to one of her old Tito Rodriguez albums. The scene was so homey and familiar that he wanted to cry. He didn’t dare.

Instead, he solemnly joined her and let her put an arm around his shoulders. They sat and listened wordlessly, letting the old songs drift and sway behind them.

“It’s good to have you home, Leónito,” she said quietly.

He rested his head on her shoulder.

She gave him a gentle squeeze. “What’s her name, this girl who broke your heart?”

---