Izabel beams at me, and it’s as if I’m back in grade school, when all I ever wanted was to be the teacher’s pet. My brain apparently wants nothing but gold stars from the Pereira women.

“Out the way, new guy,” Rey says. “You’re blocking access to my seconds.”

As Solange and I wander to the couch, Lina returns, her forehead creased with worry. She begins pacing near the door.

“I don’t understand how anyone can even eat at a time like this,” she says, side-eyeing the rest of us.

Max rises from his seat and puts an arm around his girlfriend, effectively halting her progress. “Let’s go get some coffee. That’ll take your mind off this until we hear something.” He gestures at the group. “Anyone else want a cup?”

“Definitely,” Solange says.

“Me too,” I add, settling my paper plate on my lap. “Cream and sugar for me. Black, no sugar, and superhot for Solange.” When I look up, everyone’s staring at me. “What?”

“That’s very specific,” Max says, giving me a shit-eating grin. “So noted.”

As Max and Lina leave, Natalia’s husband, Paulo, appears at the door, panting as if he ran all the way from the Bay Bridge to get here. “Estou aqui!”

Solange’s mom points down the hall. “Vá falar com a enfermeira, filho.”

With his suit jacket hanging on his thumb and his tie in the other hand, he sprints away—in the wrong direction. Seconds later, he whizzes past the room again, a panicked expression on his face.

Rey chuckles. “Paulo looks like he doesn’t know what hit him. I think he just realized his life will never be the same.”

“In a good way, yes,” Izabel says.

Rey twists his mouth to the side. “If you consider never getting a full night’s rest again a good thing, then yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

Mariana and Izabel exchange amused expressions and return to the business of doling out food—mostly to Rey.

“Remember, filho, they’re not doing this alone,” Solange’s mother says. “They’ll have us. And we’re going to spoil the baby like it’s ours.” She glances at her daughter. “And that goes for anyone else in this family who has kids someday. It’s what we do.”

Solange, who’s been happily noshing on her sandwich, freezes midchew but says nothing. Maybe she doesn’t want children. Or maybe she isn’t keen on being pressured to have them. It’s one of the topics we never discussed. And why would we? Still, I’ll confess to being curious about her stance. It’s just another piece of information I’d like to know about her.

“Well, don’t look at me,” Rey grumbles. “I can’t keep a boyfriend past the two-week mark.”