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“When did you last see it, Mija?” my father’s deep voice inches from me nearly scares me to death.
“Holy crap, Dad!”
“Sorry,” he says softly and squeezes my shoulder gently. “Thought you heard me.
“It’s okay,” I smile up at him. “It’s just been a long day.”
“You need rest. Try to remember where you last saw it and then I’ll go get it.”
Typical dad. Always willing to go the extra mile for everyone. The man is a saint and my mother isn’t far behind him in sainthood. She’s just a bit more feisty.
“You two going to spend the night in the car or are you coming inside?” my mother hollers from the doorway. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest and she looks madder than a hornet.
“We’re trying to find Ysenia’s purse!” my dad yells back.
“Well, where’d she see it last!”
“She’s trying to remember!” he retorts. “She doesn’t need you fussing at her!”
“Look here, Old Man!” my mom points her finger at him. “Keep running your gums and I’m going to hide your muscle cream.”
My mom’s words have me giggling. I love how playful my parents are with one another. They have the ideal marriage and are probably the reason why all my relationships haven’t worked out. My parents set the romance bar way too high.
I begin to stand and my dad helps me up.
“Thanks,” I smile at him then turn a dramatic glare towards my mom. “You stop threatening my poor dad. He needs that for his achy bones.”
“Gee, thanks, Mija,” my dad chuckles beside me.
“Anything for you,” I wrap my arm around him.
“Well, aren’t you two a pair,” my mom laughs. “Ysenia, hurry and think where you left your purse. Your father will go get–”
“No, Ma’am,” I shake my head.
“You are not going out this late to go find your purse.” Her arms are crossed in front of her chest again. She’s ready to fight me on this one.
Any other day, I would allow her or my dad to ride with me to go search for my purse; however, I’m pretty sure the last place I had it was the hotel lobby. The same hotel lobby where Miguel is staying. If my parents get wind of him, I’ll never hear the end of it the entire trip back to their house. Not even sure why I suggested that he stayed at their house… although, they’d be on their best behavior with him around.
“What if I promise to call you when I make it there and when I’m on my way home?” I offer, hoping to smooth things over.
“It’s so late though,” my mom sighs.
“Trish, we raised a warrior,” my dad says, taking up for me. “She’ll be just fine.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I whisper, hoping my mom doesn’t see my lips moving.
“You better call,” he replies, with his lips barely moving.
“You two would be the worse ventriloquists so don’t quit your day jobs!” my mom shakes her head and the three of us erupt in laughter. The kind of laughter that would have the cops called, if my parents’ nearest neighbor wasn’t twenty acres away.
“Alright, I have to run,” I say, running up on the porch, hugging and kissing my mom goodbye then heading back to my car. My dad has the driver's side door open like the perfect gentleman that he is. “Thanks, Dad.”
“You be careful, Mija.”
“Always,” I smile and kiss him on the cheek. “Call you when I get there.”
Chapter Eight
