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My stomach sinks. Neil again.

Neil: Hey, Agustín, just checking in.

I sigh and rake a hand through my hair. How did the best thing that ever happened in my career somehow simultaneously become this weight around my neck?

Me: The wedding is at 4pm. I’ll have the interview done today then write up my notes tomorrow and finish the draft asap.

Neil: Great! Looking forward to it.

I sigh again. I hate this. Maybe I should just tell Eloise now. Or maybe I should just abandon this whole project completely.

Neither of those options feel right, though, and both sit heavily in my stomach.

“Un americano y un latte,” the bartender says, handing over two to-go cups.

“Gracias,” I say and head back to the room.

Eloise is still in the shower, so I leave her cup on her nightstand and take my coffee out onto the balcony. I hear the water turn off, then a few minutes later, she comes out to join me, wrapped in a plush robe, her hair hidden in a towel twisted high on her head, coffee in hand.

“Rachel said I needed to be a clean canvas for her to work on. Is this clean?” She moves her head from side to side.

“Very,” I say. “Never seen a cleaner canvas.”

She purses her lips. “I feel like you’re mocking me.”

I grab her hand and pull her into my lap. “Never,” I promise her. “But it doesn’t matter to me what Rachel does to you. You’re beautiful just like this.”

“With a towel on my head?”

“Yes.”

She narrows her eyes, then breaks into a pleased smile, leaning her forehead against mine. “I have a confession to make,” she says quietly.

My breath catches in my chest, and my pulse starts to thrum. “Yes?”

She takes a deep, measured inhale. “I am so very grateful that I met you. And that you never gave up on me. You didn’t let me push you away. And …” She puts her cup down on the table and takes my hand, twining my fingers through hers. “I’m grateful that you’re here with me, on this really important day. I’m so lucky you’re my plus-one. I honestly don’t know how I could have done this without you.”

I’m about to tell her I’m the lucky one when she holds up a finger. “I need to ask you one more favor,” she says.

“Anything,” I reply.

“I really don’t want to have a panic attack at Rachel’s wedding,” Eloise says. “Even though she’ll say it’s fine and no one cares and she understands and all that. Will you promise to stay by my side the whole time? Will you promise to always be where I can see you? Especially for the speech. I … I need you.”

My heart freezes in my chest. How can I keep this promise yet also find a time to talk to Ricardo alone? But Eloise is looking at me with such trust in those soft green eyes. She has put so much faith in me.

I’m nothing if not resourceful. I’ll find a way to do both—get the interview and support Eloise.

I cup my hand around her cheek. “Of course,” I say, pulling her in for a kiss.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. From inside the room, her phone pings. “Oh, that’s probably Rachel.” She jumps off my lap and disappears through the French doors.

I sit outside with my coffee, guilt gnawing at my chest.

44Eloise

“You are going to look so gorgeous,” Rachel says as she attacks me with an eyeliner pencil. “Even if you ignored my instructions to get your beauty sleep.” She cackles and I blush. “I forgive you though. A full on, day-long sex marathon? Yes, girl, get it!”

I wish I could hide my face in my hands but I’m too afraid to move lest I lose an eye. It feels like I’ve been sitting in this straight-back chair at the long table in the Presidential Suite at the Four Seasons for hours. I’ve had every conceivable instrument used to apply more powders and creams and shadows than I ever knew existed to my face and neck. Rachel looks gorgeous, her own makeup already done flawlessly, her thick dark hair falling in luscious waves down her back. Her brown skin is almost iridescent, smooth and shimmering against her silk robe with the word Bride emblazoned on the back.