We went out of the house together to let Brent in. When the man got down from his motorcycle, his eyes focused on Amir's hand that was on my waist.

　　“Come on, go inside.” I told Brent, and I could feel him feeling a little awkward. “How are you and Michelle doing?” I asked him as we walked towards the house.

　　“It's okay,” he sparingly answered my question.

　　“That's good,” I said.

　　When we entered the house, Brent and I could not give us privacy because Amir was always watching over us. It's like we're in an ancient time where the abuela watches over her grandson while talking to her...