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I kiss her again, tenderly. “I love you,” I say to her. “Perfectly imperfect.”

From behind me, Abuelita gives a cluck of approval.

“I knew she was meant to be part of this family,” she says with confidence.

EPILOGUEEloise

The doorbell rings, making the Colonel start to howl.

“I’ve got it,” I call to Agustín, who’s in the kitchen cooking up a storm with Ricardo.

I pass Hazelnut off to Caro, who’s been listening attentively to one of Miriam’s wild stories from her youth, and skirt past Lupe, deep in conversation about core-tightening exercises with Kate. Lupe managed to get a few days away from the Minions to be here in New York to celebrate New Year’s Eve with us, which I know meant a lot to Agustín.

Charleston follows me eagerly down the hall as I hurry to open the door.

“Happy New Year, El!” Rachel squeals, enveloping me in a hug.

“We brought champagne,” Diego says, holding out the bottle.

I hug him too. I’ve gotten a lot better about hugging in the two months since the wedding. But only with the people I know and love.

“Thanks,” I say, taking it from him. “Come on in. You guys can leave your coats in the decompression room.”

I slip into the kitchen, as I hear the other guests greet Rachel and Diego.

“It smells amazing in here,” I say, interrupting a fervent conversation in Spanish between my boyfriend and his … uncle? I think they prefer to call each other cousins though. Way less weird.

“Gracias, amor,” Agustín says, kissing my temple, his arm snaking around my waist.

“He knows how to make a mean pozole,” Ricardo says. The similarities between the two men are striking, yet there are stark differences too. Lupe is finally coming around to accepting Ricardo into the Martinez family, and Agustín and Caro both welcomed him with open arms right away. So when Agustín suggested we throw a New Year’s party (at my apartment of course, he wasn’t about to force me out into the city on New Year’s Eve, the worst of all nights in New York), and invite Ricardo, Caro, and Lupe, I happily agreed. And of course, I suggested we invite Rachel and Diego. And then Miriam got wind of the plan, so the ninth floor of the Archer got invited too.

“Gretchen says she’s coming once she puts the kids to bed,” I tell him. The doorbell rings again, and I hurry to open it. Mr. Bloom and Madame Boularès stand together, her arm linked through his. She’s wearing a deep scarlet dress that matches the color of Mr. Bloom’s tie.

“Welcome,” I say, as Charleston bumps into Madame’s leg and the Colonel pads down the hall to greet Mr. Bloom.

“Hello, old friend,” Mr. Bloom says, scratching him behind his ears.

“Eloise Madigan Whitechapel!” Rachel shouts from the living room. I grimace, grab Charleston before he accidentally wanders off down the hall, and head into the living room, where she’s seated on the couch between Caro and Miriam, looking at her phone. “When were you going to tell me about this?” she demands, holding up her screen to reveal the newly revamped website for Silver Snoot Rescue, complete with links to fresh new socials and another link to what I’ve called the Pawtastic Pantry.

“Oh, well, you were on your honeymoon and busy with stuff,” I say.

“Are you legit incorporated now? Like a real rescue?”

I nod. Agustín helped me navigate all the paperwork and the talking to people and whatnot. And I can sell my specialty dog treats direct through the website, which is actually a lot easier and allows me to have more control over my business.

“I’m so stinking proud of you,” Rachel says, as Hazel paws at her arm, demanding attention. Ricardo and Diego come out of the kitchen with drinks, while Sanvi and Kate greet Mr. Bloom and Madame Boularès, and Agustín joins us with a huge tray of appetizers. I perch on one of the stools in the breakfast nook, leaning against Agustín’s side and sipping my champagne.

My house is so full. Conversation in English and Spanish washes over me, and there’s laughter and good food, and music playing faintly beneath it all. Pip paws at Agustín’s leg and he picks him up, as the little chihuahua happily licks his hand. Charleston prowls through the legs of the guests, successfully begging for treats, as Hazel gets fawned over by Sanvi and the Colonel pads over to rest his head against my knee. I stroke his soft fur and feel an overwhelming sense of contentment.

“How are you doing, honey?” Miriam says to Madame Boularès. “Isn’t it around this time of year that your husband passed?”

“Oh, my husband is not dead,” Madame says with a dismissive wave of her champagne flute.

If I had a record player, it would be screeching to a stop right now. Everyone in the room stares at her in shock, except Caro and Lupe, who don’t know the whole backstory.

“What—what do you mean, he’s not dead?” Kate stammers.

“He left me for a Pilates instructor,” Madame Boularès says disdainfully. I notice that Mr. Bloom does not seem surprised by this information. Madame slips her hand through his arm. “It was easier for me to pretend as if he had died. I was holding onto something that I no longer wish to hold onto.”