Until Forever (Changing Hearts Book 4) Read online

  Table of Contents

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  Ariana

  Lucas

  Carlos

  Mayra

  Ryan

  Jimmy

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Yesenia Vargas

  Until Forever

  Yesenia Vargas

  Copyright © 2017 by Yesenia Vargas

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For my readers. Thanks for sticking with this series until the end.

  Contents

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  1. Ariana

  2. Lucas

  3. Carlos

  4. Mayra

  5. Ariana

  6. Carlos

  7. Ryan

  8. Carlos

  9. Ryan

  10. Mayra

  11. Ryan

  12. Ariana

  13. Ryan

  14. Jimmy

  15. Lucas

  16. Ariana

  17. Lucas

  18. Jimmy

  19. Carlos

  20. Jimmy

  21. Ryan

  22. Lucas

  23. Ariana

  24. Ryan

  25. Ariana

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Yesenia Vargas

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  Before Ariana met Lucas, there was Carlos…

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  One

  Ariana

  “I knew our relationship wouldn’t be puppy love and unicorns forever, but I just didn’t expect the magic to be gone already. I mean, we’re not even married, Ariana. What’s next for us?”

  “Um, growing old?” I try.

  I care about Mayra. I really do, but I’m finding it hard to focus on our conversation at the moment.

  Technically, it’s my lunch break, but as usual, I’m at my desk working while trying to shove bites of a sandwich down my throat without getting too many crumbs on my keyboard.

  The end of the month reports are due tomorrow, and not meeting my boss’s deadline is not an option.

  Mayra sighs through the phone. “Yeah, but I want us to grow old and be happy. Not me be on the sidelines like always. We’re supposed to be in this together. We just got engaged like two months ago, and I already feel like a trophy wife. That is not what I want for my life. I want us to travel, have a family, do things together. And I know he’s your brother and all, but can’t you talk to him?”

  “Um, yeah,” I say, quickly deleting a huge mistake in the spreadsheet in front of me. I need to get off the phone. As badly as I feel for my best friend, I cannot multi-task. “Listen, I’ll call you back after work, and you can tell me more, okay? Sorry, it’s just—I’m swamped right now, Mayra. You don’t even know.”

  I swivel in my chair and glance at the clock on the wall on the opposite side of the floor. I can get a good look at it if I just stand up. Otherwise, the cubicle wall is in the way.

  “Yeah, no worries. I gotta go anyway,” Mayra says, her voice failing to hide a tiny bit of disappointment.

  Crap. I am so not best friend of the year. But I tell myself I’ll make it up to her later. At some point.

  “Sorry, Mayra,” I repeat. “I promise we’ll get lunch next week. My treat. Your pick.” Mayra had an hour-long lunch too, and if she was working the day shift, we sometimes met up and grabbed lunch. It had been a while since we last did that, though.

  “Fine,” Mayra says, her voice finally perking up. “I guess I’ll see you tonight anyway.”

  Tonight? I try to think if we made plans recently, but nothing comes to mind. I’m about to check my calendar app when Mayra goes on.

  “Jimmy has been talking about this event non-stop. Going back to our old high school where it all began. Can you believe the local news station is gonna be there?”

  But Mayra doesn’t sound all that excited. I can imagine why. But it’s going to have to wait.

  That thing is tonight? I open up my calendar.

  Yep. How did I forget about this?

  Jimmy told me about it a couple weeks ago, and I had promised him I’d go without realizing it was right at the end of the month.

  Great. It’s not that I don’t love my brother. I totally do. I’m just kinda of wishing this wasn’t tonight.

  Plus, going back to our old high school? That just doesn’t sound that appealing right now. Or ever.

  It was all so long ago, like it wasn’t me there for four years but an entirely different person.

  “At six o’clock, right?” I ask, even though the time is right there in front of me.

  “Yeah. I’ll see you there. You can keep me company while Jimmy does his thing.”

  “Um, yeah, I’ll be there.”

  We finally hang up, my sandwich forgotten, and I let out a groan that hopefully won’t carry throughout the entire room of cubicles.

  I’m going to have to stay so late tomorrow to get this done. And probably work tonight from home after Jimmy’s thing.

  I can’t even remember what this event is for, other than that it’s at our old school.

  I just remember nodding that yeah, I’d be there. Probably while checking work email on my phone.

  I get back to the work in front of me, determined to make progress before I need to leave in a few more hours. My phone buzzes, though, and I take a quick peek at it.

  It’s from Lucas. Telling me he loves me.

  I look back at my computer screen, telling myself I’ll text him back later.

  Two

  Lucas

  I check my phone one more time before my planning period is over, but I don’t see a new text message come in.

  I love you.

  That’s what I’d texted my girlfriend almost an hour ago, hoping she’d reply back and hoping I could call her, but nothing.

  I sigh. Ariana is probably working through lunch again. I can already hear her saying she’s on a deadline.

  I put my phone away as the bell rings, and my first couple of students start walking in, already way too loud.

  I’m an art education teacher at a local middle school. Most people have to hold back a smirk when I say it, or they tell me I’m braver than most, but my job actually means the world to me.

  I owe a lot to my high school art teacher. I never really thought I wanted to be anything in particular when I finally graduated. But he helped me see that I had a real passion and knack for art.

  Who knew I’d one day be teaching it?

  Back in high school, I’d probably be the absolute last person you’d predict to become a teacher.

  But here I am.

  My mom still brags about it to anyone and everyone. I guess being a teacher is a
pretty big deal in our culture.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Garcia.”

  It’s Stacey Williams, and she’s one of the most hyper kids I’ve ever met in my life.

  I’ve been doing this three years now. I am no newbie, but this eleven-year-old girl gives my sanity a run for its money.

  At the end of the day, though, I could never be truly bothered by her.

  As crazy as Stacey is, she also has a heart of gold. She’s not afraid to speak up when no one else will or like I say, paint her heart out. She’s got talent. Now if I could just get her to sit still for five minutes.

  “Hello, Stacey,” I say, getting up from my chair and going to the white board. More students are filing in, most of them following the classroom procedure that should, in theory, be ingrained by now. But I’m already seeing a few stragglers.

  “Get to your stations, everyone,” I say and turn back to the white board.

  They’re pretty good about knowing when it’s time to get serious and start working. I write out a couple of lines of instructions on the board.

  The tardy bell rings, and I walk over and close the classroom door.

  Just about everyone gets to work, and I smile. It took a long time to learn how to get these kids to do this.

  I grab my easel and canvas and walk over to Stacey today.

  I make it a rule to not only teach the students and check on their artwork but also create art alongside them.

  Right now, I’m working on something special.

  I think maybe Stacey catches me looking at this piece a little too long because she says, “Who is it, Mr. Garcia. Is that your wife?”

  She jumps out of her chair to get a good look even though she’s literally right beside me. I choose to laugh at her cartoon-like motion instead of start to lose my patience. I learned pretty early on that that’s not the way to go in middle school.

  “Yes, it is, Stacey. What do you think? Am I doing her justice?”

  She finally stays still for a second as she gives the canvas a good stare herself.

  It’s nowhere near being finished, but I do think it’s starting to come together.

  I started it the day I decided I wanted to propose to Ariana.

  About three weeks ago now. And I plan on giving it to her the day we get married.

  Tonight is the night I’ll propose.

  “Your shading is superb, Mr. Garcia. However, I think it needs some color, don’t you think?”

  She looks at me, sliding her oversized glasses up her nose. I see them almost immediately slide back down.

  “Well, that’s certainly something to think about, isn’t it?” I say. This portrait is in black and white, so I’d done that on purpose.

  “That means you don’t like my advice,” Stacey says, plopping back down onto her stool. She starts pounding into a giant block of red clay.

  I smile, holding back the laugh inside of me. Another thing I’ve learned being in this trade. Kids call it like it is and aren’t afraid to say it.

  “I’m just not sure what I think about your idea. I promise I’ll think about it, though.”

  With that, I give my first walk around the room, making sure everyone is on task and working.

  Then I go back to my desk and check my phone again, hopeful Ariana will have texted back by now but not surprised when I see nothing new from her.

  But I do see a message from Jimmy, her brother.

  So you’re sure about tonight?

  I pick up my phone and type out a quick message.

  Yes.

  I put my phone back down and go back to Ariana’s portrait.

  She’s been working a lot lately, and I know her career is important to her, but so is where we’re headed as a couple.

  A long time ago, I’d almost lost her, but somehow we’d found our way back to each other.

  This time, I won’t risk losing her again.

  I feel the ring in my pocket, making sure it’s still there. I think about the look on Ariana’s face when she sees it. It can’t compare to her beauty, inside or out, but I hope she’ll say yes. And then we can start the rest of our lives together.

  “Mr. Garcia, am I doing this right?” Mike says. He actually needs to work on his shading technique, but I know Mike, and what he needs is encouragement more than anything.

  “It’s great, Mike. Keep going.”

  Three

  Carlos

  I tighten the final screw on the transmission and make sure that I didn't miss any. I feel around next to my waist where I had the screws to begin with, but they're all gone.

  I slide out from under the car and grab my phone to call my friend Patrick and tell him that his car is ready to be picked up. I dust off my overalls and walk over to my phone.

  Manny’s not far off, talking to a new customer. “Hey, Manny, this one’s ready. Make sure you take it out to the front so Patrick can pick it up in a few, will you?"

  "Yeah, sure thing!"

  He goes back to talking to the same customer, and I see the guy hand him his keys and finally leave.

  He's good at that kind of thing, talking to the customers. It's the main reason I hired him. So he handles most of the customers for me. I only talk to customers I already know or older guys who have been coming here for a decade or more, back when my pop still ran this place.

  Manny handles the rest. I prefer to work alone.

  He still has a lot to learn on the mechanic side of things, but he's a good learner, and he's rarely ever late or sick.

  Manny tends to talk too much, but most of the time, I don't mind. It's nice not have to be the one to do the talking. I don't know that I've always been that way, but I sure have become that way in the last few years.

  I pick up my phone and notice that my wife, Naomi, sent me something. I open it up and smile. It's a text from her.

  I can't wait for our date night tonight :-)

  She plans out these things at least every couple of weeks. Even though we've been together for a few years now, what I like about being with Naomi is that every day is like the first.

  She’s still the same, hasn't changed. She’s the same old Naomi I’ve always known.

  And she’s always been there for me. Always pushed me to be a better version of myself. I wouldn’t be the man I am today without her.

  I wipe off my hands on a rag.

  I, unlike most of the guys my age who probably hate this kind of thing, actually look forward to our date nights. Blowing off some steam with a nice dinner and maybe a movie after. Then getting to bed early, getting lucky maybe, and coming back into work the next day.

  That's another thing.

  I kinda of love my job. I never thought I'd follow my dad's footsteps and take over his shop, but ever since he died of a heart attack several years ago now, I think it's become my calling to do so. To make sure his legacy lives on through this shop.

  Some people had advised me to sell it, buy myself a nice house or something with the money. A nice set of wheels.

  But I just didn't have the heart to do it.

  I look around and take a deep breath. All the memories of my dad working in this garage from sunup to sundown live at this address. He used to love working here. I guess it was his escape from home life, from my mom and having to be with her.

  She never treated him right. Never did.

  Even after he died, she never saw how horrible of a person she was to her own husband. Or the kind of mother she never was to me.

  I still haven't talked to her, much less seen her, since the day of my dad's funeral.

  Since I told her that she was dead to me too.

  Except I think about my dad almost every single day. I never even really thought about how good of a father he was to me until he was gone. Now I have to live with the regret of not spending enough time with him forever.

  And I promised myself, that if I ever become a father, I'll never make that mistake. Naomi will be the perfect mother for our kids.

 
And I'll try to be like my dad: there for my kids one hundred percent of the time.

  I look at the clock. I think I’ll wrap up some things at my desk and call it a day. Then I'll get home a little early and surprise Naomi. She loves it when I do that. I can't wait to see her and whatever she’s wearing. She’s always a complete bombshell when we go out.

  Not that she's not just as sexy whenever she's lounging around the house in her yoga pants.

  I’m heading to my office when I see a woman pull into the lot and get out of her car. Manny walks right up to her. I'll let him take care of her, and I can work on her car and whatever is wrong with it tomorrow.

  I’m in the middle of shutting my office door behind me when I hear, “Carlos!”

  I stop and turn around. I wonder if this lady has extra questions or something. I hope this is quick because I don't feel like staying late today. Manny brings her over, and I open the office door all the way, letting them in.

  I finally get a good look at this woman, and my breath catches in my throat. I almost drop my phone, which is still in my hand. I quickly put it in my pocket while I get my act together.

  I can’t help but stare, though.

  Valerie.

  Is it her? But even as I ask myself the question, I know it's not possible.

  Valerie died a long time ago. I had’t even thought about her until just this moment because this woman looks just like her. Then she comes closer, and I realize it isn’t Valerie after all. It's her sister.