I’m shaking. The whole kitchen spins and spins around me. There. I’ve just told them the truth. Pedro Molina will tell his family, who will make fun of Mom for my lack of cooking skills. After all this time in this kitchen, did I even learn anything?

Pedro’s silence is starting to irritate me. I bet he’s judging me, maybe calculating how exactly he’ll use this against me.

“I’m sure you already suspected it,” I say to Pedro, and it makes me even angrier that he looks surprised. “Are you happy now?”

“Why would I be happy?” he asks.

“Because I’m from a family of bakers and I don’t know how to bake!”

Pedro just stares at me.

“Lari, look... You can bake,” Cintia says, conciliatory. “You just did.”

“I make a mess every time.”

“We all make messes when we’re learning,” Victor says.

“You don’t get it!” I step away from them, before they convince me that this pitiful cake I just made, my homage to Grandma, is any good. “I’m a disgrace to the whole Ramires family!”

I hide my face behind my hands, my shoulders shaking with every sob I fail to hold back.

“Can you guys give us a minute to talk?” I hear Pedro say to Cintia and Victor.

A moment later, I feel someone stand directly in front of me.

“You’re not a disgrace,” he says.

When I drop my hands, it’s just us. Had this happened one month ago, it would be the biggest humiliation of my life. But he’s not laughing at me. He’s not judging me. He’s not looking smug. And I begin to realize that because of the feud between our families, he’s the only person who understands why I’m upset. Why this recipe matters so much to me.

“I’m sorry I lashed out at you,” I say, wiping my face with my sleeve.

He hands me a glass of water, and the moment I take a sip, I realize it’s sugared. An old remedy after crying. Like you could coat sadness with sugar and make it better.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Did you know?” I ask him. “That I couldn’t bake?”

He takes my empty glass and places it in the sink. “I didn’t,” he says. And then he hesitates, averting his eyes. “Maybe? I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re hiding something.”

“Please, don’t tell your family!”

Pedro frowns. “Why would I do that? It’s none of my business. None of anyone’s business.”

He acts like he’s always been this way. Like I have no reason to think he could use this as fodder to our families’ feud.