Infiltrating Your Heart (30 page)

“Anytime, sweetie.”

Dad walks back into the room at that
moment.

“That’s not all, you two.”

I look at him. Dad is holding what
appears to be a book in his hands. He gives it to me.

“This is my gift.”

I take it from his hands.

“Is this what I think it is?” I ask,
running my hand over the leather cover.

“Yep,” dad replies.

What I’m holding is a photo album. I
flip to a random page and see myself at eight years old. In it, my hair is in
pigtails. I’m also wearing a red bow on my hair, as well as a matching skirt
and a white blouse.

“That’s your life in photos,” Dad
says, standing up. “So that you always remember your origins.”

I look at dad, beaming.

“This is so…so…oh, Dad!” I say. This
has been the best day of my life so far.

Gabriel

Sunlight coming through the window
wakes me up. I stir in bed, yawning. Then I grab my smartphone from the bedside
table and look at the time.

I fell asleep last night thinking
about Mercedes. As much as I wanted to be with her, I know I did the right
thing by letting Mercedes spend time with her family.

After getting ready and having
breakfast, I grab my car keys. I told Mercedes that I would take her to the
beach, but there are some important errands I have to run before that. There
are people I need to visit.

My parents live on the south side of
the city. Ethan (my father) is a notary public, with an office right next to
the house. My family is nowhere near as prominent as the Carrolls, but we’re
not marginal either. Joan, my mother, is pretty well known.

I pull up outside the house, and then
step out of my car. I walk to the front door and knock. Shortly after, Dad
answers.

“Hi, Dad,” I greet.

“Morning, son,” he says, opening the
door. “We’ve been wondering what you’ve been up to.”

“I’ve had lots of work, Dad. As you
know, I got a promotion,” I say as he lets me in. I called my parents the
Sunday after that first great night with Mercedes.

“Your mom and I were thrilled when
you told us that. We’re proud of you.”

“Thanks.”

“Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thanks. Is Mom here?”

“Coming!” a voice calls from farther
in the house. It sounds like Mom is in her bedroom.

“Your mother. Always taking her time
to look good, even though we don’t plan to be out today.”

I laugh. Mother has always been like
that. When she was younger, she would bathe and then do her makeup just to go
to Walmart. Dad always teases her about it.

“She still does that?” I ask.

“You bet. Old habits die hard, you
know.”

Mom chooses that moment to walk into
the room.

“I could hear you both, you know.”

Dad looks at my mother and then turns
to me. He gives me a
here-she-goes
kind of look.

“Still dressing for a night out, I
see,” I tell her. She laughs at me, shaking her head. We hug.

“I’m just used to looking good,
darling.”

“You always look beautiful, my love,
even without makeup. I’ve been telling you that for ages,” Dad says.

“I’ve never heard you complaining
about the way I look, either.”

Mom and I stifle a laugh. Years ago,
she told me and my father why she always takes the time to dress up even for
trivial things. When she was younger, Mom was a very romantic girl. During high
school (as soon as her parents would let her), she would make sure she looked
perfect before heading out anywhere. It’s not that Mom was trying to be a
glamour girl. She told us this:

“You never know when you’re going to
meet the love of your life. It could be anywhere. So you might as well make
sure you look great at all times. The point of it is to make the best possible
first impression when you finally cross paths with your true love.”

When Mom put it that way, I couldn’t
blame her. And I understand her better now. Mercedes looked amazing the first
time I met her. Maybe she’s like my mom in that way. Dressing up just to go
shopping.

After a few minutes of small talk, I
tell Mom and Dad the reason for my visit.

“I’ve got something to tell you both.
I thought it best for you to hear it from myself.”

Mom grins at me as if she’s
anticipating what I’m about to say.

“Are you finally proposing to
Evelyn?”

I smile guiltily, running my hand
through my hair. My parents already knew of my plans to marry Evelyn. I told
them about it a couple of months ago.

“No, Mom. Evelyn and I broke up.

My mother gasps, and Dad looks
puzzled.

“What? But you two have been together
for years. You looked lovely together.”

“Yes. We thought you were crazy about
her,” Dad tells me. I don’t know what to say.

“I fell in love with someone else.”

Dad’s eyes widen. Mom sighs.

“Have you told Evelyn?”

“Yes. She didn’t take it as bad as I
expected.”

Mom nods, looking relieved.

“Who did you fall in love with?” Dad
asks me.

“Her name’s Mercedes. I met her a few
weeks ago.”

Mom raises her eyebrows.

“A few weeks? You’ve dated Evelyn for
years. How are you so sure you love this Mercedes?”

“Mom, you know better than anyone
that true love can show up when you least expect it.”

“Yes, but you seemed sure about
Evelyn.”

“I know. I thought I was sure, too.
But now that Mercedes is in my life, I know I’ll never be able to live without
her again.”

Dad looks pensive.

“Do you truly love her, or is it just
a powerful attraction that you feel?”

“I’m deeply attracted to Mercedes,
all right. Yet I still love her like I’ve never loved any other woman.”

My parents pause to consider the
news. Finally, Mom speaks.

“We can’t say we’re not surprised,
son. Still, I can see in your eyes the love you feel for this woman. I’ve never
seen your eyes shine that way, not even for Evelyn.”

I’m glad my parents aren’t outraged.
Evelyn has become almost like a daughter to them. She’ll most likely remain
being so.

“If you truly love Mercedes, then she
has our blessing,” Dad tells me.

“Thanks,” I tell him.

“When do we get to meet her?” Mom
asks.

“Soon.”

“What does she do?”

Ah, the million-dollar question. I
hope my parents’ opinion of Mercedes doesn’t lower when they find out she’s far
below Evelyn on the social ladder.

“Right now, Mercedes works as a
waitress. She’s just graduated from the Academy of Art. She wants to get a job
in advertising.”

“It sounds like she’s an intelligent
woman,” says Dad.

“She is,” I agree.

“How did you two meet?”

“Aw, Mom. Don’t start ‘Hundred
Questions’ now. Wait until I bring Mercedes over to meet you both, okay?”

Mom laughs.

“Sorry, I was just curious.”

Dad chuckles.

“Let’s move on to other stuff. How
was your first week as CEO, Gabriel?”

I smile.
Dad likes to exaggerate some stuff this way. Like calling me CEO. I’m glad for
the change of topic, though. We spend the next quarter hour talking about my
job, among other stuff.

~*~
Mercedes

My inbox has a bunch of unread
messages when I check my e-mail.

I read one of them. It is a reply to
a job application I made, asking if I want to go for an interview. The offer is
good, but I’ve thought it over these past few days. Now that I’ve graduated,
I’ll be focusing on finding a job in my chosen field. I don’t have to pretend
that I’m a waitress anymore. So I kindly let the recruiter know that I’m sorry,
but that I got other offers.

There’s another e-mail that catches
my eye. It’s from Lynette. I open it. There’s only one sentence: “Angelica is
asking about you. Where have you been?”

I purse my lips. Apparently, it was
too much to hope that my boss would cut me some slack. I’m going to have to
take an assignment before Angelica starts going after me. I’ve heard that she’s
not to be trifled with.

After sorting through the rest of my
messages, I go outside. My Jet Ski is now covered with a tarp that Dad had
lying around. I plan to enlist Albert’s and Nadine’s help to pull the machine
to the backyard. I’m seriously going to check the paper for SUVs. And put my Jetta
up for sale.

A sedan pulls up on the road in front
of my father’s house. I turn to it and see Patrick getting out. He walks in my
direction, wearing sunglasses and a smile.

“Hi, Patrick,” I say to him.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he replies,
stopping a few steps from me. “I’m sorry I missed your graduation, but we’re
supposed to barely know each other.”

“I understand.”

Patrick nods. He then shows me a hand
that he’d had hidden behind his back.

“I have a graduation present for you.
It’s also for your success in your mission.”

Patrick hands me a box he’s holding.
It’s wrapped in purple china paper, with a golden bow on top. It’s a little
larger than a cereal box, but thinner than your average hardcover book.

“Thanks.”

“You can open it.”

I do so, tearing the paper. I look at
the box in awe. It’s a new black laptop. There’s a little blue-and-gold box in
a corner of the package. I know enough about computers to recognize what Core
i5 means. I wonder how Patrick could fit it in his budget. Even a Core i3
computer would be a splurge for him.

“You got me a laptop?” I ask.

“Not just any laptop, darling. This beauty
is more than capable of handling anything you throw at it.”

“No kidding. I could sequence genes
with this.”

Patrick chuckles.

“Since you’re going to be looking for
a high-caliber job now, I figured you would need this.”

Patrick’s just taken another worry
off my list. I bought my current computer when I was in high school. This
laptop is almost like going from a Dodge to a…well, not exactly a Ferrari. A
Lexus, at least.

“I’m sure you don’t need me to teach
you how to use it,” Patrick says in a teasing tone.

“Puh-lease. I’m a Millennial.”

“Fair enough.”

I giggle. Patrick switches his glance
to a spot just behind me.

“I see you got another present.”

“From Gabriel,” I say, turning to
where Patrick is looking. I remove the tarp to reveal what’s underneath. “He
got me a Jet Ski.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised. You’ve
joined the crew.”

I shoot Patrick a wry smile. I
proceed to cover the Jet Ski again. Then something crosses my mind. I turn back
to look at Patrick.

“Now that I’ve done what you wanted,
I wanted to ask you for something.”

Patrick raises an eyebrow.

“I would like my gun back. Better
yet, I want you to help me get a weapons license.”

“What for?”

“I need to be able to defend myself.
Next week I’m starting self-defense lessons, but a little extra edge never hurts.
I already got mugged twice already.”

Patrick frowns.

“What?”

“Yes, someone ambushed me, but I’m
okay. The perp took nothing from me.”

“When was this?” Patrick demands.

“Just last week,” I say. I tell
Patrick what happened the night that I called Gabriel to ask him if he taught
self-defense.

“How come you never told anyone?”