There’s an awkward moment of silence where no one quite knows what to do or say. Lola decides to step in.
“Why don’t you all sit down?” she suggests. “We can order something to drink. Do they have juice here?”
“They have whatever you want,” Adrián says, signaling to a waiter who appears discreetly. “What do you like?”
“Orange juice,” Lorenzo says immediately.
“Lemonade,” Leonardo adds.
“Hot chocolate,” Loretta says, then looks at Lola. “Can I, mami?”
“You can,” Lola allows, even though she would normally say it’s too early for chocolate.
Adrián orders the drinks—more coffee for himself and Lola (he remembers she drinks coffee, Lola notes, an oddly intimate detail to remember after five years)—and water for Carla, who has positioned herself at a nearby table, close enough to interven
