Ethan hadn't known what to expect from a dinner at Gloria's house. But he probably should've braced himself when she sent a family-wide text with the words "Cultural Dinner Extravaganza" and three Colombian flag emojis.
Claire had rolled her eyes. "She's going to turn the whole house into a theme park."
Phil was already Googling Colombian dance moves.
And now, as Ethan stood in the middle of Gloria's backyard—transformed into a mini Cartagena with colorful paper banners, cumbia music, and enough food to feed a football team—he had to admit: theme park wasn't far off.
"Why is there a llama in the driveway?" he asked Alex quietly.
"It's a rented alpaca," she said. "Jay didn't approve the budget, but Gloria has a 'don't ask permission, ask forgiveness' policy."
"Sounds familiar."
Manny swept past in a white guayabera, dramatically cradling a woven fruit basket.
"This dinner," he announced, "is a tapestry of identity and soul."
Luke followed him, wearing a sombrero twice the size of his head. "I'm just here for empanadas."
Claire wrangled Phil away from a dance circle that had spontaneously erupted near the barbecue pit. "You promised no maracas!"
Phil looked wounded. "But my hips were speaking Spanish!"
Ethan slipped toward the patio with a plate of arepas and a low-level headache.
"Where are the others?" he asked, spotting Maya.
"Gus is rating the food on a rubric. Shawn is wearing a poncho and telling everyone he's descended from Colombian royalty. Jane is probably teaching someone how to pickpocket, ironically. Cher's adjusting her earrings in the reflection of a pot lid."
"So... a normal night."
She grinned. "Pretty much."
Jay stood at the grill, muttering something under his breath. Gloria hovered nearby, making very sure he didn't burn the chorizo.
"Mi amor," she said, slicing plantains with precision, "if you burn the meat, I will haunt your dreams."
"That's marriage, huh?" Ethan said.
Jay grunted. "You learn to live with terror."
The family gathered slowly—familiar chaos orbiting bowls of rice and beans. Cam and Mitchell arrived with Lily in tow, immediately critiquing the table arrangement.
"It's giving 'tapas bar,' not 'heritage celebration,'" Mitchell said.
Cam nodded gravely. "We need more tropical drama."
Gloria looked offended. "I am tropical drama!"
Dinner began with Gloria giving a passionate, improvised speech about Colombia. She covered everything from her hometown to the importance of family, then pivoted directly into making everyone try ají sauce "whether they want to or not."
As food passed, conversations tangled—Alex arguing with Luke about geography, Phil telling the story of his first spicy meal like it was a war memoir, and Haley casually name-dropping an influencer she met once at an airport smoothie bar.
Ethan mostly listened. Observed. He liked moments like this—loud, messy, real.
Cher leaned in. "You okay? You look like you're watching a documentary."
"Just... taking it all in."
She smirked. "Good. That's the start of every great fashion line, and every nervous breakdown."
Under the table, Maya tapped his foot with hers.
"This is kind of amazing," she whispered.
"Yeah," he said. "It kind of is."
Later, when the dancing began—Gloria practically dragging Jay into a salsa—Ethan found himself pulled into a makeshift circle with Shawn.
"Dance-off?" Shawn said.
"I don't dance," Ethan replied.
"Perfect. You'll destroy expectations."
It turned into a disaster. Shawn tried a spin and elbowed Gus in the ribs. Ethan... shrugged and tapped his foot. Maybe slightly on beat.
Cam clapped. "Yes! Use those long arms, Ethan!"
He backed away, red-faced, and escaped to the kitchen for water.
Gloria followed.
"You're quiet tonight," she said, rinsing a bowl.
"I'm always quiet."
"Not with your music."
Ethan looked at her. "How did you...?"
"I heard the song," she said simply. "The one about the train. Manny showed me."
Of course he did.
"I didn't tell anyone," Gloria added. "But I want you to know—it made me cry. And I've seen every telenovela ever aired."
Ethan smiled. "Thanks."
She stepped closer and lowered her voice. "Whatever pain that song came from... you turned it into something beautiful. That's power, mi amor. That's yours."
He nodded, unsure what to say.
Gloria touched his shoulder. "Now go back outside before Cam starts choreographing again."
By the time he returned, the family had moved into singing traditional songs. Jay was off-key. Luke had somehow found maracas. Lily was asleep in Cam's arms. The night was winding down.
Maya found him again, leaning her head on his shoulder.
"This was actually really nice."
He nodded.
"Do you think we'll have nights like this when we're older?"
Ethan thought about it. The music. The noise. The warmth.
"Maybe," he said. "If we're lucky."
She smiled. "Then we better stay lucky."
They sat there a while longer. Gloria pulled Alex and Haley into an impromptu cumbia, while Luke attempted to join only to trip over a chair leg. Mitchell filmed the chaos with one hand while sipping wine with the other. Phil tried to match Jay's grill skills by serving late-night arepas shaped like smiley faces.
Gus gave a short lecture to Cam about the cultural origins of bandeja paisa, which Cam somehow turned into an audition for a food-based musical. Shawn began assigning people spirit animals based on their dancing—Ethan, apparently, was a "flustered heron."
Jane taught Lily a few easy steps and whispered something that made her giggle. Cher finally settled on a look for her "Cultural Fusion Capsule Collection" and took inspiration from Gloria's earrings.
As the stars blinked softly overhead, Ethan leaned back in his chair and exhaled.
There was something about nights like this. Something real.
He glanced over at Maya, who was humming softly along to the music, eyes half-closed, lips curled into the kind of smile that didn't need an audience.
Ethan looked away before she could catch him staring. He didn't want to explain that kind of moment.
Not yet.
But he let the feeling linger.
This was family.
Loud. Wild. Colorful.
And beautifully, impossibly, his.