The kitchen heavily smelt of burnt tortillas, Bella was tempted to tell her mum that whatever she was cooking was getting burnt but minded her business.
"Six men, Bella! Six!"
Elena Moreno slammed a cast-iron skillet onto the stovetop. The sound echoed like a gunshot. She turned, eyes flashing with the kind of fire that only an immigrant mother could weaponize. "In eighteen months. You go through boyfriends faster than I go through dish soap."
Bella Moreno didn't look up from her boots. She was aggressively tugging on the laces, her fingers raw from the desert grit. "They weren't boyfriends, Ma. They were mistakes. There’s a difference."
"The mechanic? He was handsome! He had a garage!"
"He had a wife in Sedona, Ma. And a personality like wet cardboard."
"And the teacher? Mr. Henders
