Page 111 of The Plus-One List

“On it,” Rachel says, as I rush into the bathroom to change. I scramble into my jeans, realize I’ve grabbed a sweater with an embroidered pug emblazoned across it, and feel like that’s a good sign—the Pack has my back. I grab my new chihuahua earrings for good measure, brush my teeth, and splash water on my face. By the time I’m ready, Rachel says he’s almost here. We race down to the lobby just as Enrique pulls up in the SUV.

I throw open the back door.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Rachel asks. “I can skip the brunch.”

I whirl around and put my hands on her shoulders. “No,” I say firmly. “You were right. It’s time for me to start living my life—risks and all. And you need to go be with your husband. You just got married, Rach!” I pull her in for a hug. “I’m so happy for you.”

“I’m so happy for you,” she says in my ear. “Okay, I’m going. But you better text me and let me know how it goes.”

“Promise,” I say, then I scramble into the back seat and shut the door behind me.

50Agustín

“Tín, I say this with all the love in my heart—you’re an idiot.”

Lupe has her arms folded over her chest, leaning against the refrigerator, as I sit slumped over the kitchen island. Abuelita is on my right side, my mom on my left.

“Lupe,” Mamá says. “There’s no need to put lemon juice in his wounds.”

“No, she’s right,” I say. My head aches, and my eyes are itchy. After spending the night at Caro’s, we came home after breakfast. I needed time with my family.

I feel awful. Like everything hurts. I can’t believe I fucked this up so badly. Except I also can. Because this is exactly what I was afraid of.

“Maybe Eloise just needs a little bit of time to process,” Caro says. Abuelita pushes a mug of café de olla into my hands. For the first time in my life, the scent of coffee and cinnamon doesn’t comfort me.

“Should I make something to eat?” my mom says. “Sandwiches? Chilaquiles? Oh, I could make those Turkish eggs you like.”

“I’m not hungry,” I say as my mother gets up and starts pulling things for sandwiches out of the fridge. Caro plops down on the empty stool as the sounds of Amar y Querer float in from the living room.

“Not sure this is a moment for José José, Papá!” Caro calls.

“It seems very on point actually,” I say.

My father comes into the kitchen. “You need to get the sad out,” he says. “Next, we listen to JuanGa. ‘Hasta Que Te Conocí.’”

“Tinito,” Abuelita says. “You made a choice. Now what are you going to do about it?”

“But I made the wrong choice, Abuelita,” I say miserably. “I should have told her right away.”

“Yeah, you should have,” Lupe says. “What were you thinking, Tín?”

“Well, we can’t all be as perfect as you, Lupe,” I say.

My older sister’s jaw drops, and she takes a deep inhale, the kind that says she’s about to unleash a storm.

“Lupe.” Mamá puts a package of deli meat on the counter with a loud thump. “Your brother is in pain. Have some compassion. His heart is broken.”

It is. I always thought a broken heart was just an expression, but I can feel the fissure in my chest, the exact line where Eloise eviscerated me. And the worst part is, everything she said was true. I lied. I broke my promise. I let her down.

I could have—I should have—told her about the interview. It may have been why I wanted to be her plus-one at first but everything else, every single moment with her, every touch, every kiss … that was all genuine.

“A wrong choice, a right choice … that’s life,” Abuelita says as my mother starts assembling sandwiches with renewed fervor. “Now you fix it.”

“How?” I say bleakly.

“You two were meant for each other,” Mamá says as she slices a tomato. “I have never seen two people so well matched. Your souls recognized each other.” She glances at my father with a tender look in her eye. Papá is already smiling at her privately.

“Yeah,” Caro agrees. “I mean, I know I tease you a lot, dude, but it was clear the two of you were way into each other—even before you got here. I could sense that vibe through FaceTime.”