Unfortunately, our brief exchange catches Cláudia’s attention, and she turns her body in our direction. “Tell me, Solange, how did you two meet?”

Oh shit. Dean and I never bothered to work out a story. Must tread carefully here. “We met at a wedding.”

Dean snorts. “Seems so long ago.”

I gaze at him tenderly. “Feels like it was yesterday.”

Cláudia nods. “And you’re living together, but you don’t want to get married. What about kids?”

I want to counter with my own questions: Why do you care? How is this your business? But I tamp down the urge to cause a clash. “As far as I know, getting married isn’t a prerequisite for having kids.”

She snaps her brows together. “But wouldn’t you want to get married before you have a baby?” She glances over at Ana and Carlos. “Like they’re planning to do.”

This feels like a setup. As if she’s gearing up to insult my mother in a roundabout way. Dean throws an arm around my chair, probably to remind me that he’s here—or to hold me back if I suddenly lunge across the table.

I shrug. “I haven’t given it a lot of thought. I’m only twenty-eight. But anyway, I don’t think you need to be married to have kids. And I don’t think you even need a partner to have a child.”

Her eyes grow wide as saucers. “But your mother didn’t choose to be a single mother, you know. Even she knows a baby needs his mother and his father.”

Rodrigo scowls at his wife. “Cláudia, não fala mais sobre isso.”

Bless his heart; he should get a medal for trying to get her to pipe down. But it’s too late; I’m done letting her take potshots at my mother. I breathe in through my nose and count down in my head. Five, four, three . . .