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“Okay, no problem, thank you,” I say, because right now, I think the most important thing is to get Eloise someplace calm and quiet so she can acclimate. She’s doing a great job, to be honest. I’m really impressed. But I think she’s going to hit her breaking point soon, plus just travel exhaustion from the flight and the drive. And I’m sure she’s missing the Pack.

The other porter is waiting for us. “Right this way,” he says, leading us down a hallway of pale polished wood, lined with glass French doors. As he turns to the left toward a bank of elevators, Eloise inhales a quick gasp, and her eyes light up.

We’re standing on the edge of an enormous courtyard, filled with plant life: abundant ferns, stout palms, elegant trees hung with pink blooms, and thick vines of ivy crawl up the arched windows that look down on us from all sides, spilling like a glossy green waterfall. There’s a fountain in the center and a restaurant with white canvas awnings at the far side, tables filled with guests sipping cocktails or snacking on ceviche.

The elevator dings, and Eloise and I get in and head up to the seventh floor. When the porter opens the door to our room, our bags are already there. I thank him and we step inside.

30Eloise

My knees lock.

Some part of my brain takes in the light, airy room, the patterned carpet, the little balcony overlooking all that green splendor down in the courtyard (my favorite part of this journey so far).

But the majority of my mind is now consumed by the fact that 1. Agustín appears to be sharing this room with me, and 2. I’m staring at a king-sized bed, complete with a dark wooden headboard, enormous fluffy pillows, and a pristine white comforter.

I look around like a second bed might be hiding under the marble topped table, or maybe in the closet.

No luck.

There’s only one bed.

Agustín seems to have anticipated this. Maybe that’s what he was talking to the woman at the front desk about.

My breathing picks up as the Wheel starts to spin.

“They booked us in the same room,” he says, as if that weren’t already obvious. “Apparently, the hotel is completely full.”

Tears prick my eyes. I miss my home, and the Pack, and my own bed, and the sounds of Central Park West, and Hector at the front door, and Mr. Bloom playing Mozart. This is all too surreal. I feel so incredibly far away from the place where I’m me. I was hoping to be able to freak out for a second, have a nice little breakdown alone in my room before I had to pull myself together.

Agustín is looking around like maybe he too is hoping another bed will magically appear. “I can sleep on the floor.”

“No,” I say. “That’s ridiculous. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

The carpet does seem very soft.

“Definitely no.” Agustín shakes his head firmly. “You know what, I could just stay with my family.”

My head whips around to meet his eyes. “You are not leaving me here.”

Everyone else from Rachel’s side is staying at this hotel. There is a zero percent chance I won’t run into them at some point, and I need Agustín by my side.

“How about this,” he says. “Lie down for a bit, or … or maybe run a bath! I’ll go check back with the front desk. See if there’s anything they can do.”

Alone time is exactly what I need. And a bath sounds amazing. I take a deep breath and remind myself that I made it to Mexico City in one piece and the journey did not actually kill me. Am I still a little out of it from the melatonin? Probably. Was the Wheel spinning like crazy on the drive, in complete sensory overload? Yes. But I’m here. This is net positive.

“Okay,” I say, nodding, like I can convince myself. “Okay.”

He strips out of his sweatshirt, and the movement reveals a slice of smooth olive skin and a teasing dent at his left hip before his T-shirt settles down over his stomach. My heart gives a wild lurch as blood burns in my cheeks but Agustín just flashes his dimples.

“I’ll be back,” he says. Then he disappears out the door.

I take a minute to let the silence settle around me and soothe my racing pulse. I creep over the plush carpet and peer out the French doors of our room’s little balcony. I like it up here. I can observe without being seen. The scent of flowers drifts up toward me, and the cheerful chatter of the guests in the restaurant mixes in the air. I take a big, calming breath. I may be shaky and fragile, but I’m not in full panic attack mode, and that’s a win. I head back inside. There’s a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket on the marble table next to a vase of flowers, along with a card.

Welcome, Eloise and Agustín! We’re so excited to share this week with you. Enjoy the bubbles! Rachel & Diego

This is definitely not Rachel’s handwriting (she writes in chicken scratch) nor do I believe it’s Diego’s. But it’s a nice gesture. I leave the card and the bottle and head into the bathroom. There’s a huge, wood-framed mirror, a marble sink, and a deep porcelain tub. I plug it and start to run the tap. A quick glance in the mirror tells me I do indeed look like I took two melatonin with a Bloody Mary chaser and then passed out on a plane for five hours. I head back to the room to unpack my bag. Then I grab my toiletries and brush, head to the bathroom, and find the tub has filled with hot water.

I strip out of my travel-worn sweatsuit and sink into the bath, leaving my phone on the little ledge beside me. Ohhhh yes. This is exactly what I needed.