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After a few more repetitions of this, Eloise actually begins to get the hang of it, though she keeps her eyes trained on her feet. Diego has clearly danced salsa before, and Rachel is a fast learner. The elderly couple are quite good as well.

“Very good,” the teacher says. “Now, let’s connect with each other. Salsa is not so formal, like ballroom.” She seems to realize Diego and Rachel are the stars of the show, so she comes over and puts Rachel’s arm on Diego’s shoulder, his arm on her side, then links their other hands together lower down, by their waists. “This is more casual, more natural,” she explains. “Now, everybody try.”

My neck goes suddenly hot and my stomach tightens as I take a small step toward Eloise. We both reach for each other at the same moment and our arms clash awkwardly. The sweetest pink color blooms on her cheekbones.

“You go first,” she mumbles.

My heart is beating uncomfortably hard in my chest. As soon as I put my hand on her waist, I feel her sharp intake of breath. Her lashes flutter and as she lifts her arm to rest it ever so gently on my shoulder, she raises her eyes to meet mine. I can feel the movement of her breath against my palm, beneath the soft fabric of her romper. Her green eyes are clear, and her lips tremble. For one second, it’s like we’re suspended in time.

The teacher claps her hands together, bringing me back down to earth.

“And … one, two, three …” She counts off the steps, but my brain is scrambled.

This time, it’s me who steps on Eloise’s foot. We grin at each other, our faces so close together. I catch a whiff of her citrusy scent as she tucks a curl behind her ear and takes my hand again. It feels like my mistake has given her courage. Her hand tightens around my shoulder, sending shivers across my skin.

“I can do this,” she says. “Right foot back …”

And we dance. Slowly. Awkwardly.

Together.

28Eloise

“I didn’t know your building had a rooftop,” Agustín says, fiddling with the collar of his shirt, and adjusting Pip in his arms.

“I didn’t either,” I admit as we take the elevator up to the roof of the Archer. The dogs are all on their leashes. Charleston sniffs at something on the carpet while Hazelnut whines at the doors impatiently.

“Seriously?”

“What, you think I’d ask someone about it? Plus, Lenny wasn’t a rooftop kind of guy. I wonder if he knew about it either.”

I don’t know why we’re wasting our time on this mystery event, when I have a whole host of more important things to do. Like freak out. A lot. I’m getting on a plane tomorrow. I’m leaving the Pack in Miriam’s care. She says she can handle them, but what if she can’t? What if something really bad happens when I’m away? What if Pip bites her? What if the Colonel has problems with his blood sugar? She already takes care of her two cats. What if she can’t handle all the dogs? What if it’s too much for her? What if it’s too much for them?

Not to mention the whole host of issues I’ve been avoiding that are now staring me in the face. I’ve never flown internationally before. I have to meet like a thousand new people. I have to participate in activities. Rachel’s getting married.

The Wheel starts to spin.

Rachel is getting married.

Everything is going to change. Who cares if Diego is actually kind of a nice guy? They’ll do couple things and couples like to hang out with other couples. Case in point, I’ve seen a ton more of Diego and Rachel since Agustín came into my life. And guess what, the minute the wedding is over, Agustín is out of my life, because those are the rules. That’s the agreement. The agreement I came up with.

Sweat starts to bead along my brow. I don’t want Agustín to be out of my life. I think I kind of maybe want him to be in my life forever. And not as a friend. Definitely more than a friend. But oh my god, what if I told him that and he rejected me, because of course, I am not Girlfriend Material. I have never been Girlfriend Material. I can’t even wait in line at Jamba Juice without having a panic attack. I was shoving cheese in my face next to an industrial fan at my best friend’s engagement party. That’s not party etiquette. I’m way too much work. He’s probably really looking forward to this whole thing being over so he doesn’t have to be my damn training wheels anymore, because really, I should—

Suddenly, a warm, strong hand slips into mine and squeezes. And just like that, my mind calms. My racing heart slows. The Wheel stops spinning. I look up into his eyes, and he flashes me that hot-chocolate smile, the one I’ve loved since the moment I first saw him.

The one I have no idea how I’m going to live without.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

That’s it. He never overdoes it. Never says things like, “You’re going to be okay” or “Don’t freak out, Eloise” or “Why are you sweating so much?”

Just “Hey.”

The elevator doors open, and Agustín and I gasp in unison.

The rooftop looks out over the park, and there are huge square pots with giant ferns and ficus and hydrangeas placed at various spots along the ledge. There’s a long wooden table with chairs set up in the center of the space, and Édith Piaf is playing on a record player on a little folding table, plugged into an outlet near the ground with a speaker beside it. The long table is laden with vases of flowers, and fancy flatware, and silver ice buckets with wine, and smoke rises from a grill in one corner, where Miriam is cooking something that smells amazing, and Sanvi is cutting up some vegetables. Gretchen is sipping a glass of white wine and engaged in conversation with Kate.