JUNIPER'S POV:
The café hums with energy, with a lot of chatter in the air. Its open windows let out a soft ocean breeze, which makes my body feel cool in contrast to the hot, crisp croissant in my hand.
"Hot!" I exclaim as I take a bite of the piece, then I catch Hiram staring at me with intent. "I am fine," I say to him at once, then he reaches for my lips, wiping away the crumb stuck on them.
"Thank you," I mutter, and he nods before going back to staring at his coffee directionless.
I think there is something wrong with him. I know he is having a hard time with his dad being sick, but he almost won't open up to me.
"You're scaring it," I say, trying to start off light.
He looks up with his brows slightly drawn down. "What?"
"Your coffee. That's the face you make when something is bothering you."
When I say this, he lets go of the spoon, and I watch his lips twitch into a smile.
"I am fine, and there is nothing wrong, love." He goes ahead to grab my hand to solidify this lie, but I withdraw at once, my face breaking into a frown.
"No. There is something wrong, and I want to hear about it. You promised you would tell me, and all you have done is throw money at my face. Take me on a cruise, and..."
"You do not like that?" he cuts in, and I let out a sigh.
"I do, but I also want you to be genuinely happy," I reply, then he shrugs.
"I am happy when you are happy." I roll my eyes as I inhale deeply, then I continue with my breakfast because I know he won't open up to me, especially in a public space.
"I am thinking of the day. It is only a day left for us here, and I need to do something to impress you," he says, and I force a smile on my lips, continuing with my meal without saying anything to him.
When we are done eating, I take my leave first, waiting outside until Hiram finishes paying. I put on my shades as we walk down the streets.
Little Havana is a riot of color and sound. Music blasts from every corner, and the air is thick with the scent of roasted coffee and fried plantains. We walk in silence for a moment as I try to protest my distaste for his lack of transparency. After a moment, he reaches for my hand.
"I want to show you something," he says, walking into a small shop filled with handmade trinkets and vibrant paintings.
Everything in here looks beautiful, and I know this is a ploy to get me to smile, so I do not grant him that. My face remains in a frown.
"Look at this," I say, pointing to a mural of a woman standing at a crossroads. Her dress seems to flow off the canvas, blending with the roads she cannot decide between.
"It's beautiful," I say flatly, like I am unimpressed, but deep down, I want to feel the painting because it is fascinating.
I hesitate before speaking again. "I think... she's stuck. She wants to go somewhere, but she's scared of picking the wrong path."
My eyes bore into him, and I hope he gets the message.
Hiram's eyes leave mine, and he studies the mural for a moment. "Maybe the roads aren't as different as they seem. So she is trying to thread carefully on the best part."
I blink at him, my brows creasing slightly. "Did you just out-philosophize me?"
He shrugs again in that manner that does nothing but grate my nerves, and I vow not to speak to him about opening up again. It is as though he enjoys keeping me curious.
"I come from a family of seven," his voice cuts off my thoughts, and I look up to face him. "I am the second child. I have an older brother, an immediate younger brother, and two sisters."
Hearing him talk about his family makes my heart light. A smile threatens to form on my lips, but I hold it back because he doesn't deserve it for making me ask too much.
"And how difficult was that? I am not going to show up to kidnap them or something because I suddenly know about them."
"I cannot tell." He tries to make a joke, but I do not take it. I turn on my heel to walk away, then he grabs my hand, pulling me toward him.
I stare at him with my brows drawn down, and a chuckle escapes his lips. He kisses my forehead, gripping my waist as he pulls me into place.
"You remind me so much of my last sister, Hera. You are about the same height, and your anger issues are alike." When he says this, a smile forces its way onto my lips.
"So, what university does she attend?" I ask, and his face contorts slightly.
"Who is talking about uni? She is in middle school." My mouth drops open, then he goes ahead to bruise my poor heart. "She is only about thirteen. My other sister, Hana, is sixteen, and she is about five foot six inches."
When he says this, I press my hands to his chest, pushing back to free myself, but he anchors me to him.
"We can try this all day," he says, and I roll my eyes. Then he scoots down to kiss my lips. "I love you so much, and you are so cute when you get angry."
"Till I smack you in the face," I reply. Then he let go of me, taking my hand.
"Now you are happy. You can stop pretending you do not like the painting," he says, and I do not bother to protest.
"Please do not buy it." He nods at my words, then he takes my hands and walks me out of the store.
As we leave the gallery, a vendor stops us, holding up bracelets made of colorful beads.
"For the couple," she says with a warm smile.
I am about to say no, but Hiram pulls out his wallet before I can speak. He hands her some money, then takes the bracelets from the lady and slides one onto my wrist.
"For my lovely wed wife," he jokes, drawing me back to the memory of the fact we married in Las Vegas. My mum would freak out if she knew I had done something as absurd as that. That is why I have Rhea to hurl all my dirty secrets at, and she will keep them safe.
"So, we have a Hera, Hana, and Hiram."
He nods at me. "And Hollis, and Hu. Hu as in Hu."
I pause for a moment, wondering why someone would name their child that.
"I know what you're thinking. My parents were literally tired of having boys, and they couldn't think of the perfect name. They took the H and the first vowel that came to mind."
The shock on my face doesn't leave. "Could have been worse. Imagine a Ho, Hi, Ha, or He."
It does sound better, but I cannot imagine how the poor boy feels.
"Why does everyone's name start with H?"
"Family tradition," he answers at once.
**
Hiram and I end the day with a rooftop dinner. He had earlier made a reservation at a rooftop restaurant. As we step into the space, I cannot help but admire it. Everything looks beautiful, and nothing is short on luxury.
The spot is quiet and romantic. I know it is Hiram, but watching him dressed all fancy in a suit does something to me I cannot explain. I fiddle with my bracelet as I stare at him while we wait for the food.
"I've been thinking about that mural," he says, breaking the silence.
"Yeah?" I ask, my fingers pausing.
"You said she was stuck," he says, his eyes meeting mine. "But I think she's just waiting. Sometimes you have to stand still for a moment before you know where to go. Deciding in haste doesn't really help."
"Maybe you're right, but I never want to pressure you, Hiram. I just wish you could come to me always. I mean, today feels like a huge success for me. I know a little about your family, even without meeting them."
He reaches across the table, his hand covering mine.
"I didn't mean to keep you waiting, but with time, I hope you will get to know them better."
I can't help but smile at him.
"Thanks, Hiram," I mumble.
Soon the waiter comes with our dinner, and we eat, joking and speaking randomly. Hiram divulges a few things about his family, but he only keeps it to his siblings. He doesn't talk about his parents or his father's ailment. I do not push it, and I take this as a stepping stone.