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“Yeah,” I agree, assuming she means that Gretchen is kind of a trip.

“ELOISE!” Rachel shrieks, jumping up and down. “Look at you! The hostess with the mostest!”

I flush and pick up Hazel like she’s my security blanket, holding her to my chest. “I didn’t do anything.”

“What are you talking about? You just hosted a total stranger in your apartment for one whole hour.”

Was it only an hour? It felt like the entire night. I glance at the clock on the wall, and it’s almost eight-thirty. I can still feel the adrenaline humming in my veins. Hazel struggles against me, displeased with my vice-like grip. Rachel grabs the plates from the coffee table and takes them into the kitchen. I sink down onto the sofa. Hazel wriggles out of my grasp and gives me an indignant huff as she jumps down to claim her rightful spot on the giant dog bed. The Colonel pads over and puts his head on my knee. He still needs his bath. Charleston is in the kitchen with Rachel.

“Don’t let him lick all the plates!” I call to her.

There’s a pause. “Okay,” she calls back.

Charleston has definitely already licked all the plates. Rachel is such a pushover.

I stroke the Colonel’s head and chew on my lip. I survived. I managed to sit and have a conversation with a stranger and not die. Well, “conversation” might be a stretch—I said, “Oh really” one time and then a few nods. But that’s pretty big for me. And even though I feel that weird combo of itchy/jittery/exhausted, I haven’t started spinning out over all the ways I embarrassed myself yet. I’m sure that will happen later tonight, probably around three AM, but still.

I have to admit that I made the wrong decision, telling Agustín to get lost. And showing up independently from him at the wedding isn’t going to work either. I need more—I need the help he offered me when we made our deal.

I grab my phone off the table.

But then I see I already have a text from him. It came in only a couple of minutes ago. Usually his texts start with Holaaaaaaaa (always a long string of As), and then some stream of consciousness thoughts or questions. But this one is just an image.

I pause, frowning, then open the link.

My jaw drops.

It’s a … newspaper?

THE AGUSTÍN DAILY, blares at me, along with today’s date. Then there are articles.

See You in La Ciudad (de Mexico)! contains a list of relevant areas in Mexico City, along with a bit of history about each one.

Si, Acepto—an unofficial guide to Mexican weddings.

Holy Jacarandas! talks about the various plant life in Mexico, while Did Someone Say Perritos? details the best spots for dog watching.

My lips twitch when I see an article titled Martinez Attempts to Ingratiate Himself Using Humor—Will It Work? alongside an opinion piece called The Clock Is Ticking: Can Agustín prove to Eloise that he’s the perfect plus-one?

I press my fingertips to my mouth in a poor attempt to hide the smile that’s threatening to split my face clean in two. This is … this is … I don’t have words. This might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. It’s simple and accessible and doesn’t require talking. And it’s not just about the wedding, either. I’ve kind of been ignoring the fact that I have to fly to a whole other country, that I have to exist someplace for a week without any of the comforts of my home. And not just my apartment—the familiar streets of my city as well.

Of course I start with the article about dogs. Apparently, there’s a park called Parque México where local shelters will bring adoptable dogs out on Saturdays. A picture of a boxer mix with a vest that reads Adóptame makes my heart squeeze. I start to click on the other articles. There are photos of a huge boulevard, sort of like Park Avenue, but it’s lined with jacaranda trees, blooming in rich clouds of purple. It’s so beautiful it makes my chest ache. There’s a section on food, and I’m instantly assaulted with delectable pictures: tacos piled with shredded meat and onion and cilantro, whole roast fish slathered in green sauce, and some kind of sandwich called torta de chilaquiles, oozing crema and chips and red sauce. Even though I just ate, my mouth starts to water.

“Whatcha looking at?”

I jump so hard I drop my phone as Rachel comes into the room, drying her hands on a dishtowel.

“Nothing,” I say too quickly, scrambling to pick it up off the floor.

She narrows her eyes at me. I give a huff worthy of Hazel and hand over my phone. Rachel’s eyes widen as she looks at the fake newspaper.

“He put all this together for you?” She blinks. “El, I’ve changed my mind. Don’t just let him be your plus-one again. Marry this man.”

I blanch as my stomach plummets all the way down to the lobby, making me dizzy. “What?” I yelp.

“Kidding!” she says. “But for real, this is like the nicest thing I’ve seen anyone do for someone they barely know.”

“Yeah,” I say, trying to quiet my racing pulse. “That’s kind of what I was thinking too.”