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“I love you too,” she says.
We lie in silence for a moment, our heartbeats the only sound in the room. I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. And as I trace its origin, each step of the path that led me here, I realize it all started with Abuelo.
That doesn’t mean I forgive him.
But it’s a start.
“Agustín?” Eloise asks softly.
“Mm?”
“We only have plans for coffee with Caro tomorrow, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you think she’d mind if we canceled?”
I glance down at her, wishing I could see her expression. “Of course not. Is there something else you wanted to do?”
She wraps one leg around me, pressing herself against my thigh. Oh my god, she’s still so wet. She glances up at me under a thick fringe of lashes and gives me a vixen’s smile that just about makes my heart stop.
“This,” she says, and pulls me back on top of her.
43Agustín
The morning of the wedding dawns cool and clear, not a cloud in the sky.
I wake up with Eloise in my arms and allow my mind to spin out over the past day, where we did nothing except stay in bed, exploring each other in every way, and only stopping to order room service.
I feel a sense of impending release. Finally, tonight, I will tell her the truth.
She shifts and her curls tickle my cheek.
“Morning,” she murmurs, nuzzling into my neck. I feel myself start to stiffen, her body warm and her bare legs soft as silk against mine. Even after all of yesterday’s activities, I still can’t get enough. I don’t think I’ll ever stop craving her.
“Good morning,” I reply, kissing her forehead. “It’s wedding day.”
Her eyes fly open as tension freezes her limbs. “Right.”
“You’re okay,” I remind her gently. “You’ve got this.”
But I can pretty much feel the Wheel start to click away in her chest, her shoulders going stiff, her toes pressing hard into the tops of my feet.
“I’ve got this,” she whispers to herself. “I’ve got this … I’ve got … What time is it?”
I glance at the clock on the nightstand. “Oh. It’s almost ten.”
“What?” Eloise yelps, sitting up and clutching the sheet to her chest.
“It’s all right,” I say, rubbing her back. “You’ve got time.”
“I’m supposed to meet Rachel in her room at noon,” she says, her breath hitching. “I need coffee. And a shower. And my dress. Where’s my dress?”
“Your dress is in the garment bag in the closet,” I remind her. “I will get coffee. You shower.”
She whirls around and plants a kiss on my lips. “Thank you,” she says. She scrambles out of the bed, rushes into the bathroom, and slams the door shut.
I throw on jeans and a sweatshirt and tuck my phone into my pocket, making my way down to the restaurant. I could call for room service, but I’d rather move my body. I’m feeling jittery too. I order at the bar and my phone buzzes as I wait.
