She placed a box of pears on the front table next to the bronze Buddha, and grunts and heavy breathing drew her attention to the sitting room to the right. She padded over and stared at a pretzel formation of limbs on the carpet by the upright piano. It seemed to contain Michael and another girl. Stella would have been jealous, but the whole ordeal looked really uncomfortable.

“Just give up and say it,” Michael gritted out.

“No, I had that armbar. You only got out because of your steroid abuse.”

“I do not use steroids, and you only got the armbar because I didn’t want to crush your boobs.”

“Going for your balls next time.”

Looking closer, Stella saw they both had their arms locked around each other’s throats. Like anacondas in a death match, neither was willing to let go.

“Maybe call it a draw?” Stella suggested.

“Hi, Stella,” a voice chirped. His sister’s face was covered in a curtain of dark hair, and Stella had no idea which one it was. There were so many of them. “Your girlfriend is here, Michael. Give up.”

“Dinner is ready in ten minutes.” The red hue to Michael’s face was rather concerning but completely self-inflicted, as far as Stella could tell. “I’ll be with you in a second.”

“Only if you’re giving up. Who’s your daddy?” his sister said as she flexed the impressive arm wrapped around his neck.

“Not some little brat.”

The two rolled on the carpet, kicking and flailing their legs.

“I’m going to say hi to your mom and grandma, then,” Stella said. She would have preferred Michael’s company when she greeted them, but this thing between Michael and his sister looked like it was going to take a while.

Neither of them responded. They probably couldn’t spare the oxygen for talking.

She meandered through the house, which was actually quite enormous—you wouldn’t guess from the outside. His mom and grandma were seated in the family room, peeling grapefruit meat from their individual segments as they spoke in musical Vietnamese. Two men in a monkey suit and a pig suit flew across the screen of the muted TV.

“Hi . . . Wai?” She bowed her head awkwardly. She could not wrap her tongue around the pronunciation of the word for grandma, ngoại.

Michael’s grandma smiled and waved her to the empty space on the aged leather sofa. As usual, she had a scarf wrapped around her head and tied under her chin. Adorable grandma. Was she staying away from the lawn shears lately?

Nodding at his mom, she said, “Hi, Mẹ,” and sat in the indicated spot, feeling her stomach knot and her muscles tense. Even though she’d seen his mom a handful of times by now, she was still horribly nervous around the woman. Every word had to be measured before Stella could let it out of her mouth, every action considered. She didn’t want to mess up again. This was Michael’s mom—the most important woman in his life since he didn’t have a real girlfriend. All thoughts of asking for advice with Michael evaporated in the face of her anxiety.

His mom held out a bowl of perfect, skinless yellow-green grapefruit slices. Stella had never seen grapefruit peeled quite like this, and she took a slice out of a mixture of curiosity and fear of insulting her. Once she bit into the fruit, sweetness exploded on her tongue, untarnished by the usual bitterness of the skin.

She covered her mouth in surprise. “It’s really good.”

“Have more.” His mom smiled and set the bowl down in Stella’s lap. Today she was wearing a striped pink button-down and floral print jeans. Her glasses perched on the top of her head at a distracted angle. “Get salt if you want. E likes it with salt.”

“No, thank you.” Stella ate one more, two more before she made herself stop. It looked like a lot of work peeling them this way. In an effort to keep her hands busy, she picked up half of a grapefruit and tried to copy his mom’s technique, all too aware of the stilted silence in the room.

His mom watched her peel the fruit with a tiny nod. “Michael is making bún riêu tonight. It’s really good. Has he made it for you yet?”

Stella shook her head as she trained her eyes on the grapefruit. “No, he hasn’t.” Did his mom know Michael had been spending nights at her place? Did she disapprove?

“Mommy, when is the bún riêu ready?” Janie trounced into the room and paused, smiling at her. “Hi, Stella.”

Stella returned her smile. “Hi. Michael said ten more minutes.”

Janie flopped into a scuffed armchair, throwing a jean-clad leg over the arm. “Starving and all I had for lunch was some crackers. I’ve been doing homework since ten this morning.”

Stella silently held out the bowl of peeled grapefruit while Mẹ glowered at her daughter. “You’re getting too pale.” Turning to Stella, she asked, “Can you see how pale she is?”

Janie snatched the bowl and inhaled piece after piece. Stella’s jaw almost dropped. Did she know how much time it took to peel the things?

“Maybe a little pale?” Stella said.

Mẹ spoke to Ngoại in Vietnamese, and Ngoại cast a disapproving look Janie’s way. Stella didn’t understand what she said when she spoke, but it sounded ominous.

“Thanks for throwing me under the bus, Chị Hai.” A crooked grin almost identical to Michael’s flashed as Janie winked, and Stella’s chest turned to mush.

“What does Chị Hai mean?”

Mẹ smiled as she focused on peeling fruit.

Janie popped the last grapefruit slice into her mouth. “It means Sister Two. Michael is my Anh Hai, which means Brother Two. I’m down by the bottom with number six because I had the poor luck to be fifth born. We don’t start at one, by the way. I think one is reserved for parents or something. That’s South Vietnamese interfamily naming convention. You get his number because you’re his.”

A goofy grin teased at Stella’s lips as her heart did clumsy flips and flops. She loved the idea of getting Michael’s number. It made them a pair. Like the shoes by the front door and their hands on the piano.

Janie laughed and said something in Vietnamese to her mom and grandma. They both looked at Stella and laughed as they voiced their agreement.

“Michael’s been really happy this month,” Janie said. “Like embarrassingly happy. The general consensus is it’s because of you.”

She caught her breath. “Has he really?”

“Yeah. He’s obnoxious when he’s happy.”

Stella bit her lip to hide her smile. All of the emotion boiling inside her chest made her feel like it would rupture open, spewing rainbows and glitter. “He’s never obnoxious.”

Janie snorted. “I bet he doesn’t make you smell his socks.”

She choked on a laugh.

“What’s going on here?” Michael asked from the doorway.

His hair stood up in complete disarray, and his face was still flushed from beating up on his sister. He wore a wrinkled white button-down over a plain T-shirt and faded jeans. He was gorgeous.

“Telling her about the socks, dickhead,” Janie said with an evil smirk.

Mẹ sent her a sharp narrow-eyed look, and Janie shrank into her chair.

“I mean, Anh Hai,” she mumbled.

“That’s right. Give me my respect.” His smile was superior and lofty and . . . obnoxious. Stella loved it. “Come on, dinner’s ready.”

Out in the kitchen, his mom went about dishing rice noodles into giant bowls and ladling soup over the top. Janie took the first bowl and brought it to the table where Ngoại sat, cutting everything into little pieces with a scissors before squeezing in lime.

Michael pulled her to the side. “Hi.” He swept his eyes over her and ran his hands down her back, pressing her close. “I like this dress on you. Are the seams bothering you?”

“No, they’re fine. The problem is in the front.”

“What is it? Want me to fix it?” He unbuttoned her black cardigan and inspected the construction of the tight-fitting Lycra dress with a frown. “I don’t see anything obvious.”