"Does he like you too?" Sarah pressed.

"Stop it, Sarah. You’re making things up," Maria shot back, her voice tense. She picked up a slice of toast, her gaze fixed on it like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"Am I?" Sarah's voice sharpened. "You’ve been acting strange lately—coming home late, sometimes not at all for two days. What’s going on?"

"That’s not true." Maria sighed, her patience wearing thin. "What do you want for dinner tonight? I’ll cook your ...