Concealed - A Hiding From Love Novel #2 (17 page)

“Mama, I didn’t tell you because there wasn’t anything to tell… Yes, I know his parents are upset, but it was his choice when to tell them… No! It’s not my fault his prima is embarrassed. All I did was go on a date to a
fiesta
. There’s no rule that says I had to announce it to both families… His name is Gabe. Yes, it is the same man, and he’s out of the Army now… He moved here and stopped by to say hi one day… I have to go now, Mama. Okay… Yes, in the next few weeks.
Te quiero
.”

I wait in the kitchen, wary of what her parents think about me and how it might impact the way she thinks about me yet again.

She walks in and immediately pastes a falsely bright smile on her face.

I step to her and place my finger over her lips. “Don’t do that. Don’t fake things with me. I heard enough to know your parents have gotten wind of me and I can guess they’re not happy.”

She sighs and turns toward the bar-top counter, where she climbs onto a stool and leans on her elbows. “There was a cousin of Marco’s at the party last night. I didn’t see her, but she saw us – out on the dance floor.”

I cringe, remembering how intimately we’d danced before the Indy race to get home and into bed together.

“I guess Marco hadn’t told his parents we broke up either…”

“Wait. You hadn’t told your parents you broke up with him?”

She looks at me with an expression that can only be described as pity.

Fuck that
.

“Seriously? We’re not going there, are we? It’s been three weeks, Alexis. You talk to them every Sunday. When were you planning on telling them? After we’ve bought a house and had the second kid?”

Her eyes get wide and she opens her mouth then shuts it again. I turn around and go back to putting coffee grinds in the Braun, trying really hard not to slam shit around while I do. I can’t believe after last night we’re right back to this crap.

“Gabe?”

“What?” I snap as I shut the lid of the machine.

“First of all, until last night, I thought we were just feeling things out. Getting to know each other. I guess I should have told them I wasn’t seeing Marco anymore, but it seemed pointless to say anything until I had it figured out for myself.”

I turn around, leaning back against the counter and crossing my arms. “And now? Have you
figured
it all out?” I ask quietly and not terribly nicely.

She slides off of the stool and stalks across the kitchen to me. When she reaches me, she runs her hands up my bare chest. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Old habits die hard, and I was so happy to be able to spend time with you again that I didn’t want to think about my parents and Marco and the families. Please forgive me?” She plants a soft kiss on my chest, then another on my neck, then my earlobe.
Shit.
This is the problem with being in love. I’m a fucking pussy now.

I wind my arm around her waist, pull her up against me, and look down at her. “So where do we go from here?”

“I’ll talk to them. I’ll explain that we’re together now. But you have to be patient. It’s not the kind of discussion that’s going to be over in one phone call. It’ll take a few times for them to get it. I may have to go home and spend a weekend talking to them too.”

“Shouldn’t that be something we do together?”

“You going to ask my dad’s permission? I think it’s a little late at this point.”

I shake my head. “No, but I want your parents to know who I am and that I’m serious about you. I want them to see I’m not some loser who’s out to fuck up your life. I mean, they’re your parents, I’d like for them to accept me at some point.”

She lays her head against my chest and absentmindedly rubs her thumb across the scar on my shoulder where her hand rests.

“See? That’s why I love you so much. You’re so honorable sometimes I can’t stand it.”

I snort and shake my head. She doesn’t seem to get it. I’m not making noble gestures. I’m doing the perfectly ordinary thing when you fall in love with a woman. Unless you’re some sort of warped asshole. Who wants their girlfriend’s parents to hate them for Christ’s sake?

“And what’s this about a house and kids?” she asks.

“Well, not tomorrow or anything, but I’m not here because I only thought you’d be a good girlfriend for right now, babe.”

“You think about stuff like that? Marriage? Kids?”

“Eventually, yeah. Look, I know you’re only twenty years old. It’s way too early for those things, but you need to understand how I feel about you. I want this when you’re twenty-five and thirty and forty too. At some point, I figure you’re going to want the other stuff, right?”

“And if I don’t?”

I put my finger under her chin and lift her face so she has to look me in the eye. “I know you, Alexis. You’re going to want those things, and I’ll be the one to give them to you. But before all of that, we’re going to have a hell of a lot of sex and a few fights, and you’re going to learn how to surf and finish your degree, and I’m going to start my own repair shop. And we’re going to have a hell of a lot of sex. Did I mention that?”

She laughs. “Your own repair shop? Is that what you want to do?”

I spin her around and smack her on the ass as she heads back to the barstool. “I might, yeah. How would you feel about being the girlfriend of a guy who runs a garage?”

“If that calls to you then go for it. I’m proud to be your girlfriend no matter what you do.”

If only her parents would feel the same way.

Alexis

No hay peor ciego que el que no quiere ver.

There are none so blind as they who will not see.

M
Y
parents are hysterical, with a capital H.

Marco’s cousin Annette, who is a gossipy bitch on her best day, was at that
Quinceañera
. She’s dating Luis Gabaldon, whose brother is married to Ramon’s sister-in-law – well, the trail is complicated. But the bottom line is, Annette saw me with Gabe then went straight home and called Marco’s mom, who called Marco, who then broke it to her that we’d split up. He was also really upset – at least according to my mother – to hear I’d been at a party like that with Gabe. As soon as she had Marco’s confirmation, Mrs. Trujillo called my mom to see what she knew about it all.

My mom didn’t know anything about it, and when she and my dad found out, they flipped. My mom had been burning up the phone lines for three hours by the time she actually got to me. She went first to Beth, who it seemed had the good sense to deny any knowledge of the whole thing. Then she called both of my older brothers, my cousin Deb, and finally that bitch Annette. When she heard the description of the guy from Annette, she started to put two and two together and suspected the guy in question might be “that
gringo
from the Army.”

What I don’t tell Gabe about the phone call is that my dad insisted I come home immediately and explain to them what the hell I thought I was doing with my life. I put him off with the excuse of exams for school, but that only bought me a couple of weeks.

Holy hell.

It isn’t until late Sunday night that I finally get a chance to call Beth. Gabe had some laundry and stuff to do before the workweek starts, so he took off downstairs to his place for a couple of hours. I get out my books to study but dial Beth first.

“Lex? Oh my God! What the hell happened? Mom and Dad are completely
loco
over this.”

I curl up on the bed and tuck my feet under me, a cup of tea on the nightstand.

“Yeah, tell me about it. Dad was ready to come drag my ass back to Floresville today until I convinced him I had schoolwork I needed to get through first.”

“I told you to come clean with them the day you broke up with Marc. I knew they’d find out eventually. What did you tell Gabe?”

“Um, a watered-down version of the truth. I mean, he was here when they called, so he knows they just found out…”

“And how did he take that?”

“He wasn’t too happy. Said something about me waiting until we had two kids and a house before I’d tell them on my own.”

“Shit, Lex.”

I nod, forgetting Beth can’t see me.

“He also knows Mom and Dad are concerned, but I didn’t really explain what that means. How do I tell him that the last time he was in the picture Dad threatened to quit paying for school and make me come home to live? He knows they don’t like the idea of him, but I haven’t told him just how
much
they don’t like the idea.”

“Oh, Lex.” She sighs. “If you aren’t completely honest with him, you two will never survive this. He has to know what he’s up against or it’s not fair to him, hon.”

I feel the telltale sting at the back of my eyes. “I know,” I say softly. “I just need a little time. If I tell him the truth, he’s going to go into combat mode. He’s already saying he needs to go down to Floresville with me and meet them, to tell them he’s serious about me and prove he’s a good guy.”

“And you don’t want him to do that why?”

“What if they still aren’t okay with it?”

“Then I guess you’ll have a choice on your hands – again.”

I close my eyes and swallow the bile rising in my throat. “I’m not sure I can make that choice again, Beth.”

“You may have to, Lex. But this time you need to make the choice for you and not for everyone else.”

The door to the apartment slams. “Gabe’s back. I gotta go.”

“Okay,
hermanita
. Remember
te amo
.”

“Thanks, Beth. I love you too.”

Most of the time I was growing up, I was cocooned in a Hispanic community. My school was largely Hispanic, my neighborhood, my town. When I came to UT, it was the first time I’d been in an environment that was heavily mixed, with kids of all ethnicities and backgrounds. I was astonished to meet so many who had little to no contact with their families. Kids who were left to make their own decisions about who they dated, where they lived, when they visited home.

There were expectations in my family – and in all the families I knew growing up. Your cousins were your best friends, and you lived with your parents or nearby if you were married. You called and visited when your mom told you to, and you attended every family event and holiday that came along. No questions asked. It was family.

When I came back from Afghanistan and told my parents I’d met someone there and that we were planning to be together when he came home, they looked at me like I’d lost my mind. Then Marco supplied them with the convenient explanation – I was traumatized and it was a normal reaction. They latched on to that excuse like it was a life raft and we were all passengers on the Titanic.

Suddenly all of my aunts and my mom’s
comadres
had stories of people they’d known who’d been traumatized and done strange things. I must have heard a dozen stories that first week about all the “
loco
” things people had done after they were in wars, assaulted, had a death in the family.

At first I argued with them, told them it wasn’t trauma. I was fine, I said. Just in love. My father told me if I couldn’t show him I was in my right mind he would disenroll me from school and make me spend the next semester at home. He was serious, and that’s when I started to wonder if I really was acting like a crazy person. I mean, if you’re crazy, you don’t know it, right? So when the people closest to you say you’re nuts, you need to pay attention to them.

By the end of three weeks, Marco was back to eating dinner at our house every night, Christmas break was almost over, and I was working really hard to show everyone I was the same old Alexis I’d always been. I twisted my heart and my head into pretzels, justifying my reversal of course about Gabe. They loved me, I told myself. They would never lead me astray. I barely knew Gabe. There was no way someone could go through what I had and not be traumatized. Of course I’d had some strange ideas. I didn’t really love Gabe. It would never have worked. It was a one-time thing.

But deep down, I always knew none of it was true.

Deep down, I always knew Gabe was the love of my life and that I was betraying not only him, but me. Every. Single. Day.