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“It’s also not your job to humiliate your own family!”

“What do you want me to do, Lupe? This is my chance. To be published in—”

“Ugh, if I have to hear one more fucking word about your precious New Yorker and Ronan Farrow and changing the world, I’m going to lose it.” Lupe takes a step toward me. She’s always been the tallest of the three of us, and she sweeps her hair over one shoulder. “Now come here and give me a hug, you idiot.”

I chuckle and embrace her. Like with all of Lupe’s hugs, it’s short, perfunctory, and she immediately goes back to chastising me.

“And who is this gringa, huh? Is she part of the whole plot to ruin our family?”

My stomach pinches with guilt. “There’s no plot, Lupe!” I snap. “She’s my girlfriend, okay?”

Lupe’s mouth drops open. I hear Caro shout, “I knew it!” from the kitchen and realize I’ve left Eloise alone in there.

“Listen,” I say to my older sister, “can we make a truce for today? No talking about the article. Please. I want to spend a nice afternoon with my family. I’ve missed you all.”

“Fine, fine, whatever,” she snaps back, pushing past me. “I want to meet this girl.”

“If you’d FaceTime me like Caro does, you’d have met her already,” I call after her.

Lupe whirls around, her eyes flashing. “You really want start with me, Tinito?”

I hold up my hands. “No, señora.”

Her mouth curves up into a wry grin. “Very funny.”

“Isn’t that what they call you at church?”

“Don’t mock the church, Tín. You could use more God in your life.”

“I’m good,” I say. I prefer my Sundays with coffee and dogs. Man, I miss the Pack.

We enter the kitchen, and I see Eloise standing at the stove as both my mom and tía explain to her about what they’re making, talking over each other and correcting each other in a way that reminds me of me and Lupe. They’ve given her a wooden spoon, though I’m not sure what they expect her to do with it. And they’re speaking Spanish, so all explanation is lost on Eloise. In one pan, tomatillos and serrano chiles and fat cloves of garlic are charring, while a small pot of water is simmering with dried ancho chiles.

“… and this will be for the salsa verde,” my mom is saying as my tía tuts at her to turn the tomatillos. “Not yet, Cristina,” my mom says, shooing her away with the tongs.

Lupe strides right up to Eloise, who is looking pretty content, all things considered, as she watches the action on the stove. Caro starts quickly clearing up the illicit card game before Lupe sees.

“Don’t think we won’t talk about that later,” Lupe says. Then she turns to Eloise. “Hello,” she says in English. “I’m Lupe. Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you for having me,” Eloise says, her voice giving a little squeak on “having.” It’s so cute. And she looks so hot in that outfit. But then I banish those thoughts in case Lupe has started mind reading. I don’t need another lecture about God.

Lupe does not go in for a hug, but instead gives Eloise a once over with her laser eyes. “So,” she says. “You’re my brother’s girlfriend?”

I cringe as Eloise’s eyes pop.

“Damn, don’t embarrass her, Lupe,” Caro says.

But then Eloise straightens her shoulders and swallows hard. “Yes,” she says. “I am.”

It feels like my whole heart does a huge backflip, lodging itself in my throat. She is? Of course I feel the same way, but I hadn’t expected Eloise to confirm it in the middle of my family kitchen with Lupe acting like the Spanish Inquisition.

At that moment, Abuelita shuffles into the kitchen, leaning heavily on her cane.

“Tinito,” she says in her wonderfully creaky voice, a big smile cracking across her wrinkled face. Everyone says I got my smile from Abuelita.

“Abuelita,” I say, rushing over to embrace her. She smells like the same flowery perfume she’s been using since I was a little kid. “How are you?”

“Good, good,” she says, patting my hand. “Not dead yet. And who is this?”