Loneliness made people accept definitions they might otherwise question.
“Dinner first?” Valeria asked.
Alejandro glanced at his phone.
“Whatever you want.”
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”
“That’s not true.”
“What did I say?”
He looked at her.
She smiled.
“Exactly.”
Alejandro slipped the phone into his jacket.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re always working.”
“I know.”
Valeria hooked her arm through his.
“Tonight, you’re not.”
He was about to answer when a soft voice came from his right.
“Good evening, sir.”
“Do you need help with your luggage or towels for your room?”
Alejandro stopped.
The voice reached somewhere inside him before his mind understood why.
He knew that voice.
He had heard it laughing in his kitchen.
Whispering beside him at midnight.
Arguing with him about whether cilantro belonged in everything.
Saying his name when she was angry.
Saying his name differently when she wasn’t.
