I’m poised to watch her drive off, but as she’s climbing into her pint-size cherry-red Mitsubishi hatchback, her phone rings. With the door still open, she answers it and immediately tries to calm the caller. “Hang on, hang on. I can hardly understand you. Breathe.”

“That’s what I’m fucking trying to do,” the person on the other end of the line—a woman—yells.

“Where’s Paulo?” Solange asks.

She listens intently, then blows out a slow breath. “Okay, I’m coming to get you. Be there in twenty-five minutes, twenty if the stoplights cooperate.” With the car door still open, she hunches over and rests her head on the steering wheel.

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

She looks up at me, her expression anguished. “It’s Natalia. She’s going into labor, and her husband’s stuck on the other side of the Bay Bridge in Maryland because he had a meeting out there.”

Contending with Bay Bridge traffic is a way of life in the area. An accident or even heavy fog can leave commuters stranded for hours on the Eastern Shore. Depending on what’s happened, Natalia’s husband could very well miss his child’s birth. “Is Natalia all right? The baby?”

“Oh, she’s fine,” Solange says flatly. “She knows my car is reliable. Lina’s might break down.”

“Makes sense . . . but why the long face?”

She gives me an incredulous expression. “It’s Natalia. She’s having a baby. You don’t know my cousin like I do. She’s the kind of person who could make her childbirth experience go viral.”

“That dramatic?” I ask.

“Oh, Dean. She’s going to torment us all.”

“What can I do to help?”

Solange tips her head to the side, her brows pinched together. “Trust me. You don’t want any part of this experience.”

I see what’s happening here: She’s boxing me out. Pretending to be her boyfriend in front of my colleagues is one thing; interacting with her family is quite another. But I’d like to think we’re friends, and I wouldn’t abandon a friend in a time of need. “C’mon, Solange. I’m a strapping young man. That may come in handy.”

She considers me for a moment, then reaches for the inside door handle. “Okay, get in. But listen, whatever happens tonight, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Damn, I’m not having the baby, am I? What the hell is she envisioning? If anything, I’d say Solange is the one being overdramatic here.

Solange

As I hightail it to my cousin’s place in Wheaton, Dean helps me triage the phone calls to the family network.

“You call Max and Lina first. They’ll be able to keep her calm if need be. I’ll call her mother at the store. She’ll let the tias know what’s going on.”