My ears are burning, and my face must be flushed. Am I going to hyperventilate? Yeah, I think I’m going to hyperventilate. I blink back tears. Dean didn’t just defend me. He defended my mother. My heart’s pumping hard in my chest, asking for direction: It’s this guy, right? We want him, yes? Please tell me he’s the one. Except Dean doesn’t want to fall in love, so I need to tell my heart it’s a false alarm. And God, it would be so easy to meet him where he needs to be. To tell him that he doesn’t need to love me. That being with him would be enough. But I know doing so would be a mistake. I can feel it in my gut.

Desperately needing air and space, I jump to my feet. “Dean and I should get going. We have . . . stuff to do.”

“I just bet,” Lina says under her breath.

“Places to go. People to do,” Rey singsongs with a smirk.

Dean stands as well. “Yeah, she’s right. Always working, you know. Um, Tia Izabel, do you think we could get some food to go? The picanha, especially?”

Seriously? Asking a Brazilian elder if you can take home seconds is like asking them if the Earth’s round. The answer’s yes. Always yes. Is he trying to ingratiate himself with my family? Has he no shame?

“Of course, filho,” my mother says, slowly rising from her chair. She holds out her hand. “Come, we’ll get you everything you like.”

Ana appears at my side. “Hey, we’re going to stay here for a little bit more, okay? Rey said he would drop us off at your place later. And since we’re leaving for New York very early, you should give me a hug now.”

I pull her into my arms for a tight embrace. Her mother may be a pain, but Ana’s a gentle soul—who just so happens to be super vocal during sex. I’m a big fan of her energy. “Take care, prima.”

“Next time, we’ll leave Mãe at home,” she whispers.

“I’m counting on it,” I whisper back.

After Dean and I say our goodbyes to everyone (Cláudia only gets a lukewarm wave), we leave the family home and climb into my car. Dean’s packed into the front passenger seat so tightly his knees nearly touch his chin, but he’s kind enough not to complain about it, probably because there are two plastic bags filled with food in the backseat.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. That was exhausting, though.”

“I hear you, but we did it, Solange,” he says, his eyes brimming with excitement. “We convinced everyone we’re dating, and we didn’t get caught.”

I throw up a weak fist. “Yay.”