Chapter 12

“My Angel,” she says, and latches onto me, whirling me around in her arms, right there in the center of the dining room. She’s grinning, and it’s infectious.

I give her a peck on the lips.

Gabriela pulls back, reaches into the pocket of her apron and presses something into my hand. I look down. It’s a wad of twenties, maybe two or three hundred dollars at first glance.

“What’s this?” I say.

“You didn’t think I was going to pay you in tacos forever, did you?” She squeezes my hand to close my fingers over the bills. “Take it. Business is good. You’re a big part of that.”

I drop my gaze to the tiles under my feet. I can’t look at her. I don’t know why. Suddenly I’m shaking, like when we first met, when I would admire her from a safe distance.

“It’s not… I don’t work here for the money.”

“Shh,” she says. “You’ve earned it.”

I feel her finger under my chin. I know her well enough to know that she always does that when she wants me to snap out of my funk and look at her.