1 month later

"Why is he still there?" I blurt, slamming my hands down on the table.

Idris jumps, looking up from the second book in The Quiet Nights series. Roman draws a jagged line through the paper, his eyes widening.

"What?" Roman asks.

I gesture through the window at Everett. If he wasn't wearing all black, it would be almost impossible to see him through the blizzard. Even then, there's so much snow sticking to him that he might as well be camouflaged at this point. "He's not even coming inside to wait."

Roman blinks. "All I'm hearing is you haven't been paying attention to anything I've said at all."

I wave him off. "I think there are more important things to worry about than..." Roman arches an eyebrow, waiting for me to recite whatever he was trying to explain to me. I point at him, lifting my chin. "I swear I was paying attention."

He nods, an amused smile on his face. "Sure." He sets his pencil down. "So I'm guessing this means you're gonna go take a break?"

Roman looks at the mural. After I told Idris I didn't want to add Hai, he suggested adding the dragon lord and fairy queen, Lạc Long Quân and Âu Cơ, on their respective sides of Vietnam, so Lạc Long Quân is looking down at Hien and Lanh from the ocean while Âu Cơ is watching them from the highlands.

I have most of the highland side painted, the stars glistening above the rough terrain of the mountains. Hien's and Âu Cơ's dark brown eyes reflect the light of the stars, but where Âu Cơ's smile complements the light, Hien's frown dims the brightness. The ocean side of the mural will probably look similar with Lạc Long Quân's smile matching the serenity of the moon and Lanh's frown matching the rough tides of the ocean once I start painting it.

I don't think I can start working on it right now, though. Not when Everett is just sitting out there in the cold.

"Yeah, probably," I say.

Roman starts to respond, but his phone rings. He digs it out of his pocket, and his expression becomes unreadable when he sees who's calling him. He gets up to answer, stepping into the back room. Before he shuts the door, I hear him say, "Hi, Nanay."

Idris glances up from his book again at the Tagalog word for "mom." His eyebrows draw together, and his deep brown eyes darken even more somehow. He shakes his head in the end and focuses back on his book.

I glance between Idris and the closed door, but I don't say anything. Instead, I get up and head for the counter to start up the espresso machine. While I wait for it to warm up, I head back to the table. I get there right when Roman comes out of the back room, his expression even more unreadable.

"You're taking that break?" he asks. As he sits down, he looks at me, and his eyes are... steely... Weird...

I shrug. "Yeah. Why not? I'm not getting this—"

"Because you're not paying attention."

"—and I need a break."

Roman rolls his eyes. "You don't need a break. You're just stupid."

Usually, I would say this is him joking, but his tone is as steely as his eyes. Even Idris tears his attention away from Muffled Dusk to look at his brother. For whatever reason, that pushes Roman from steely to angry.

"What, Idris?" he snaps.

Idris' eyes widen. When he gets over the surprise, he sinks into his chair, staring down at the page. "Nothing. What's up with you, Kuya?"

Roman glares at him, apparently not taking kindly to the Tagalog address. "Nothing's up with me. Just go back to wasting your time reading. Prove to everyone you're most useful when you're in your own head and out of people's business."

What the hell?

Idris blinks. A few expressions flash across his face before it settles into neutrality. He nods, pulling his headphones out of his backpack and putting them on before turning back to the book. I almost believe he doesn't care anymore, but his jaw is tense and he's blinking a lot while his eyes fill with unshed tears. I don't blame him.

I lean towards Roman. "What was that about?"

Roman turns his glare on me. "Nothing. And it's none of your business anyway. Just go take a break or whatever. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."

I narrow my eyes. "But you shouldn't have—"

His head snaps in my direction, and I immediately shut my mouth. I've never seen Roman look this pissed off before. I don't think I can even describe it as pissed off. It's like he's a tsunami coming out of nowhere after hours of calm, lapping tides. If the signs were there, I completely missed them.

Roman presses his palm flat against the table, leaning towards me with a sneer. "Just go, Marlowe. It's fine. Idris isn't even bothered by it." He gestures to Idris who's still staring at his book with a blank expression, but his eyes aren't moving across the page. "And it's not like you're going to get any of this anytime soon, so don't even worry about sitting here and getting lost."

The heat in my chest unfurls, and I have to bite my tongue. A tsunami would definitely take out a fire, but if anything, I'm a wildfire and there's no telling what I might burn up before I fizzle out. So I think Roman and I are both lucky I have enough self-control to get up and leave to make the hot chocolate. The espresso machine isn't nearly warm enough, but if I don't go now, I'm not sure I'll have a clean criminal record by the end of this.

I stand, making my chair skid backwards. I glare at Roman as I turn and head to the counter. I slam cabinet doors open and close, almost breaking the mugs as I set them on the countertop. I'm so focused on trying to make the mugs of hot chocolates that I don't realize Idris is right next to me until he clears his throat. When I turn to him, he offers me a nervous smile, playing with the edges of his book.

"Hey, kid," I say, throwing open a cabinet to find marshmallows. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Idris' already wavering smile become even more unstable. Right... Can't take out my anger on him when it's not his fault his brother is an asshole. I take a deep breath when I finally find the bag of marshmallows. I settle on my feet and force a smile on my face, holding the bag out to him. "What's up?"

He grips his book, creasing it. That's how I know he's really nervous because he would never do anything that might remotely damage any book. But no matter how nervous he may be, he keeps his eyes on mine even as he reaches to grab a handful of marshmallows. "I'm sorry. About Roman. I don't know what happened, but he shouldn't have talked to you like that."

I feel the wildfire in me completely fizzle out. That must mean Idris is a rainstorm. Calm and pleasant and taken for granted until he's gone for too long. I set the bag of marshmallows aside and put my hands on Idris' shoulders. At thirteen, he's as tall as I am, but the look on his face makes him seem like he's five.

I squeeze his shoulders and smile at him. "Kid, you didn't have to apologize for your brother. It's not your fault he's being an asshole to me." I glance over at Roman who's staring down at his notebook with a completely unreadable expression. He has earbuds in, but I hope he's still hearing this conversation so he can think over what a complete jerk he is. I look back to Idris with a smile. "It's not your fault that he's being an asshole to you either. Don't let him get to you."

Idris shrugs, gripping his book a little tighter. "I'll... try not to..."

Poor kid. I pull my hands back and look down at his book. Some of the cover peeks out from behind his hand, and I focus on the image of Hien and Lanh passing each other by as they cross into the other's territory—Hien stepping into the ocean and Lanh starting to ascend mountains. In the space between them, Hai looks up at the setting sun and the rising moon, a contemplative look on his face. Not unlike the one Roman has on his face right now.

"You know what?" I ask. Idris blinks, arching an eyebrow. "Your brother is basically Hai, and I'm sorry you have to be Hien with him."

The corners of Idris' mouth turn up. Good. Kid deserves to smile a little more. "Well... that kind of makes you Lanh since she has to deal with Hai's bullshit, too."

I snort. "Sure. Assuming I'm as patient as Lanh. I'm surprised she hasn't killed Hai yet." Idris' eyes widen ever so slightly, and I quickly wave him off. "Don't worry. I won't kill your brother... today..."

Idris laughs, his entire face lighting up. Good.

I pick up the two mugs of hot chocolates. "I should go check on Everett. Do you wanna come with?"

Idris shakes his head. "No. I'm okay."

I arch an eyebrow, adjusting my grip on the mugs. "Are you sure? Because I think everyone needs a break from Hai—I mean your brother."

Idris snorts again, but just as quickly, his smile wavers a little. He glances at Roman, his smile slipping even more. He looks down at his book as he plays with the edges again. "No. It's okay. I think Roman's calmer now."

I lift one of the mugs. "If you're sure. But feel free to join me if you need to."

Idris nods, but he doesn't meet my eyes. We walk out from behind the counter together. Idris takes his seat again, flipping open his book. I walk towards the door, sparing the Laxamana brothers one last glance. I meet Roman's eyes, and he offers me a sheepish smile. I guess that means he feels bad, but that doesn't change the fact that he berated his brother and insulted me—and meant it—for no reason. I don't bother giving him any sort of reaction. I face forward again and walk outside.

I let out a breath the moment the cold air hits me, but I keep walking. My breath comes out in visible puffs. Snow crunches beneath my feet and snowflakes cling to my eyelashes. I can't believe Everett's been sitting out here for the past few hours. If steam wasn't rising from the mugs, I would think the hot chocolates would be frozen by now.

I plop down across the table from Everett and slide a mug over to him. He blinks but almost immediately smiles at me as he picks up the mug, murmuring a thank you as he takes a sip. When he sets it back on the table, he asks, "Taking a break?"

I nod, wrapping my hands around the mug to warm them up. "Yeah. Someone had to save you from hypothermia." I wait for Everett to stop laughing before I add, "And Roman is getting on my nerves."

"He's just trying to tutor you," Everett says.

"He called me stupid."

That wipes the smile off Everett's face. "He did what?"

"He said I was stupid." I shrug when Everett gives me an incredulous look. "He's in some mood right now. Yelled at Idris, too. I needed to take a break before your café turned into a crime scene."

Everett snorts, bringing the mug up to his lips. "I hope he apologizes once you head back in."

Doubt it. I'm about to say so, but something behind me catches Everett's attention. I hear the sound of snow and gravel crunching and turn to see a car. When I turn back to Everett, he takes a sip and keeps an eye on the approaching vehicle. It keeps going past us, but he still watches it drive by until it reaches the end of the street and turns a corner. He turns back around, taking a deep breath.

I tighten my grip on my mug, letting the heat of the hot chocolate seep into my hands. "Can I ask you something?" He raises his eyebrows at me. "Are you waiting for someone?" Everett blinks, straightening. I hold up a hand. "You don't have to tell me. I was just wondering since you've been sitting here and watching cars drive by for a while." Since his wife died actually... "I'm sure you have your reasons."

He nods slowly, turning his head to look out at the empty street. He doesn't say anything for the longest time, but I still keep my eyes on him in case I miss something in his expression. As the snow falls around us, his jaw tenses and his eyes shift around. I almost think he won't say anything when he sighs and turns to me.

"Yeah," he exhales, "I'm waiting for someone."

I gesture around us at the falling snow. "They must be pretty important for you to sit out here in the cold all the time."

Everett nods, taking a big gulp of his hot chocolate. It's a good thing I didn't wait long enough for the espresso machine to warm up or he would've burned himself. When he holds the mug in his lap again, he says, "I don't know if you want to hear the story. It's pretty long."

I glance back at the café. I can see Roman watching through the window. It's either economics and dealing with Roman or this, so... I look back to Everett. "I have time."

Everett nods and looks out at the street. When it looks like no other cars are coming, he turns back to me. "You know I have a son, right?"

I shrug. "Sure."

I've seen the pictures at his house, but they're from when his son was younger. There are the standard pictures of him with academic milestones like high school graduation. But there are also pictures of him celebrating Vietnamese traditions and holidays like him holding lanterns and eating moon cakes for the Mid-Autumn Festival when he was a kid. When he was a teenager, he started participating in the lion dances for both the Mid-Autumn Festival and Lunar New Year celebrations. After the high school graduation photo, the pictures stop. Everett's probably mentioned him once to me before, and his late wife didn't talk about him that much either.

"Well," Everett says, tightening and loosening his grip on the mug, "he was a little younger than you when we started talking about what he wanted to do after high school. He was good at pretty much every subject in school, so nothing was off the table." His voice drops into an almost whisper, and his eyes glaze over. "But he loved to read and had a special talent for writing."

I frown, tilting my head down to look up at Everett. "Are you telling me you didn't want him to be a writer?"

Everett nods, his eyes focusing again. "I always forget how insightful you are."

I shake my head. "No. That's just how most stories go."

But I never imagined Everett would fall into that kind of storyline. He's always been supportive whenever I mentioned I might want to go into graphic design. But I guess there's a lot about him that's a mystery.

He laughs, his breath coming out in a visible puff. "Well, I hate to be a cliché, but that's exactly how this story goes." He takes another sip, but it feels like it's more to collect his thoughts than to warm himself up. He clutches the mug, hunching over it. "I don't talk to my son at all now." Oh... "And I know he has a daughter a little younger than you, but I haven't met her."Oh. Shit. "When he first told me he liked writing, I told him he was too smart for that. With his grades, he could've been a successful doctor, engineer, lawyer, whatever. Nothing was off the table. But I was adamant that writing should've been. And the moment I said that I think he decided that was exactly what he wanted to do.

"At first, we only fought about what he wanted to be, but the more we fought about that, the more we fought about other things." Everett stares at a point past me, his eyes growing distant and his voice growing increasingly quiet. "How much time he spent out of the house. What he was doing at home. His grades. His friends. His relationships. Everything he did and didn't do suddenly became so unbearable to me.

"We fought up to the day he graduated and left for college. After he moved out, he found his apartment and everything, so he would only come home during the holidays. But whenever he visited, something always came up and we would start arguing... until he just didn't show up for the holidays anymore."

Everett pauses when another car turns the corner. It crawls by before disappearing at the end of the street. Everett looks down at his hot chocolate with a frown.

"He kept calling," he continues. "But he was only willing to talk to his mom. She was more supportive of his decisions, giving him advice but never pushing anything on him. Whenever she told him to talk to me, something would always come up. Homework. Work. Errands. But I knew he just didn't want to talk to me.

"The next time we talked was at his wedding. I was careful not to say anything that might start a fight, and he was, too."

Everett pauses, visibly swallowing. Must've been bad...

"But?" I prompt.

"But... I overheard someone say his wife was already pregnant." He swallows, his voice breaking a little as he adds, "With my granddaughter." He clears his throat, but he keeps his eyes on his mug. "I brought it up with him. I don't know exactly why I thought it was a good idea, but I told him it was so unfortunate that he was so irresponsible with himself and now he was about to have a child to take care of." He shakes his head. "I said other things I shouldn't have, and that was it. We stopped talking."

Damn... "Do you know what happened to him?"

"Not at first. May wouldn't give me all the details. He asked her not to tell me too much, and I stopped asking at some point. Then, I didn't have to do that much anymore."

My breath catches in my throat, and I find myself leaning forward. "He asked to talk to you?" Everett shakes his head. What? I sit back. "No?"

"No."

"Then..." I bring the mug to my lips. "What happened?"

"He became a bestselling author." A smile spreads on his face. "You know The Quiet Nights series."

I choke on the hot chocolate and have to turn away to spit it out and cough. No. Fucking. Way. Through the café window, I see Roman laugh and Idris look between me and his brother with wide eyes. In the end, they both give me questioning looks. I wave them off and turn back to Everett.

"Are you telling me that your son is Gareth Chiem?" I gasp. "And you didn't think to tell me?"

Now that I know and I'm really looking at Everett, all the author photos of Gareth Chiem at the back of book jackets do resemble him a little bit. Gareth looks a little more Vietnamese than he does White, but he has Everett's light brown eyes that seem to glow in the right light. And amid the gray roots in Everett's hair, I see Gareth's dark brown hair.

"Where did the last name come from?" I ask. "That's not yours or May's."

"He took his wife's last name," Everett explains. "I think after his wedding, he didn't want to be associated with me at all." He visibly swallows, shaking his head. "I don't blame him."

Ouch... "You seem proud of him, though."

"I am. I was the moment May told me the news."

"And you told him, right?" He doesn't respond, but that's answer enough. "You didn't?"

Everett shakes his head, staring off to the side. He shifts in his seat. "No. I didn't. I was overwhelmingly proud of him when I found out, but all the arguments we had and all the things I said to him were even more overwhelming. The moment he wasn't doing what I wanted him to, I tried to control everything about him like he owed me that just for being my kid."

By now, both our hot chocolates have gone cold, but I take a sip anyway. It doesn't add much warmth to my body, but it gives me time to digest all this. "But May let him know before she died, didn't she?"

"Yeah, I've heard her tell him how proud I am of him, but I know that didn't mean a lot unless it came from me. I just couldn't bring myself to talk to him."

"Then..." I gesture to the street. "You're not waiting for Gareth?"

Everett looks out at the road again. "I am." He gives me a sad smile. "Gareth and his wife came to May's funeral."

Damn. I could've met him if I wasn't sick that day... but also I do regret not being able to pay my respects to May. And I mean that. She was as much of a second grandmother to me as Everett is a second grandfather.

"Only my daughter-in-law was willing to talk to me," Everett continues. "Gareth wouldn't even look at me." He lets out a humorless laugh, disturbing some of the falling snow in front of him. "I don't blame him. And—" he looks down at the mug "—maybe it was too much of me to ask, but I told Thera, my daughter-in-law, to ask him to meet me here whenever he has time, so we can talk things out. It probably doesn't mean anything considering how I treated him in the past, but I wanted him to see how much I support him now."

So that's why A Quiet Café is named after and based on Gareth's series...

I frown as something occurs to me. "May's funeral was nine months ago..." My frown deepens. "You've been waiting for nine months?" Everett shrugs. "And he hasn't contacted you or anything? Thera hasn't either?"

He glances away. "Thera's been calling to tell me she's trying to get him to come, but I haven't heard anything from Gareth personally. Honestly, I'm not sure if he'll show up at this point, but on the off chance he does, I'm willing to wait as long as it takes. I wasn't there for him when I should've been, so the least I can do is be there for him now whether he knows it or not."

I smile. "He's lucky to have you as a dad."

Everett lets out a breathy laugh, tears rimming his eyes. "That's not true. But thank you."

"It is true," I insist, leaning forward. "I mean, I don't know a lot about parenting, but I do know that no parent is perfect. At least you're owning up to your mistakes." I gesture to the café. "And at least you're supporting him now." I drop my hand on the table. "I wish you told me sooner, though. This was a lot for you to carry on your own without Grandpa or May."

He waves me off, turning away. "This wasn't something you needed to worry about. It was a problem I caused, and it was something I needed to deal with."

"Still." I tuck a foot beneath me, gripping my ankle. "You should've said something instead of sitting out here in the cold all by yourself every chance you get."

But I guess he's doing this to punish himself more than he already has been. Not that he should be. If anything, I think all the guilt he's harboring is punishment enough. Especially since he's trying to make up for what he's said and done to Gareth. That's a lot more than some parents do. A lot more than a lot of people do in general...

I glance back at the café. It looks like Roman and Idris are talking now. Even from here, I can tell Idris' expression is carefully neutral while Roman is talking like he did absolutely nothing wrong. To anyone else, it might look like siblings talking normally, but I know something's different between them. I just don't know if Roman will do anything to fix it like how Everett is trying to fix things with his son.

I swipe my mug off the table and stand, holding my hand out to Everett. "I don't think too many people are willing to drive through this snow right now. And, besides, Gareth can always come inside. You don't have to wait out here for him in the cold."

He smiles up at me, taking my hand. "Fair point, Marlowe."

I glance back at the café. "And I think maybe you should tell Idris that you know Gareth Chiem." I smirk. "You know he'll freak out more than I did."

Everett laughs. "Sure. I wouldn't mind hearing someone else express how much they appreciate my son."

We walk inside the café together, escaping the cold if only for just a moment.