We pull up to a café in the middle of a small town. I look around. Cobblestone streets wind between whitewashed houses with bright tiled roofs and doors painted in vibrant colors. In the center, a sun-drenched plaza sits under the shadow of an old church. The café is filled with the scent of strong coffee and the sound of people gossiping. It’s beautiful.
He leads me to a small corner table. The interior mirrors the town’s doors with its bright colors. It’s impossible not to smile. I can see myself coming here every day.
“Is your family from here?” I ask. I just have so many questions.
“My mother was born here. This is home, well, was home.” He looks at the menu—or at least pretends to. “My parents met when my mother attended university. By that time, abuelo’s business was thriving.”
“How did your grandfather meet mine?” Because I know nothing about how my family’s history is linked with his.
He gives me his full attention. “From what my mother told me, they met when they were children.”
Yeah, I’m clueless. “I had no idea our families had such a long history together.”
I start to play with a loose strand of my hair. “Wait, what about your Tia? Was she born here too?”
“Tia Susana isn’t my actual aunt, baby. I grew up calling her that. She was Mama’s best friend all through her life. She was always there, like a sister to her. Mama was an only child. The night Mama died, I called her. My mother entrusted her with taking care of me if anything ever happened. There are times when I think that Mama knew what the outcome would be with my papa. After we left Veridian Bay, she was isolated. Only Tia Susana came to visit.”
I place my hand over his and squeeze it. “You have me.”
The waitress comes to our table with two cups of coffee. It smells amazing.
“Camilo, bienvenido.”
Miles stands up to greet the woman. “Muchas gracias, Dona Alicia.”
“Who is this lovely woman?” she asks in her broken English.
I extend my hand to introduce myself. “Hola, Dona Alicia, soy Veronica.”
“Mucho gusto, Veronica. Eres muy linda.”
“Gracias, Dona Alicia.”
“Camilo, I am glad you finally brought someone to Colombia. I was beginning to worry.” She laughs as she walks away.
“Everyone knows you by Camilo?”
“Yes. Only a handful of people call me Miles. There’s one person who really gets a kick out of calling me lapdog. Not that I mind some licking.” He winks.
I swear I turn a shade of red. He looks so relaxed. I asked him to wear his glasses, and I am loving the view.
We enjoy breakfast and have some amazing flan. Now we’re walking around the streets of the busy town. “What was your mother like?” I ask.
He’s holding my hand. “She was smart and loved living here. It didn’t matter where we were, you would find her in the kitchen cooking, or in her studio painting. Flowers were her favorite thing to paint; she would say, ‘Like us, not one flower is the same.’ Her smile would light up a room. When I played sports, she would be at every single game. She loved being a mother.” We stop in front of a boutique, and he turns to me. “You know I never got you a gift for Christmas.”
“You don’t need to get me anything,” I insist, trailing after him into the small jewelry store.
Miles doesn’t listen. He moves with a quiet purpose, bypassing the glittering diamonds and gold, to stop at a specific display case. He points once. The attendant nods, wraps the item with practiced efficiency, and just like that, we’re walking back out into the salt-heavy air. It is, by far, the fastest transaction I have ever witnessed.
“Don’t you need to put more thought into the gift?” I tease, trying to mask the sudden flutter in my chest. “That was some record-breaking shopping. Did you even look at it?”
He leads me toward a weathered bench overlooking the sea; the sound of crashing waves surrounds us. “For your information, I saw this a couple of weeks ago and thought of you,” he says. He presses a small velvet box into my hand. “Open it.”
I flip the latch and see a strand of pearls, glowing with an iridescent, moonlit sheen. I look up at him, my breath hitching.
“When I was younger, my mother made me promise that when I fell in love, I’d buy that woman a pearl necklace,” Miles says softly. “Just like myabuelodid for my grandmother. It’s a tradition she wanted me to uphold.”
“You love me?” I ask, my lips trembling as the weight of the gesture sinks in.
