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“No,” he insists. “I mean … well, yes, I did need to talk to someone here. Ricardo is my abuelo’s son—the son he had in New York. I tried everything I could to talk to him any other way but … and then I found out he was coming to this wedding and The New Yorker wouldn’t publish my article unless I got a quote from him and—”
“You used me?” I say. The words hurt on their way out. “To get an interview for that article?”
“No,” he says again, but we both hear the emptiness of the word.
I feel the pain coming—it’s far away right now, like the sound of a train at the end of a long tunnel. It rumbles in my chest, getting closer.
“This was all an act,” I say. “No wonder you kept pushing to be my plus-one. It was never about me.”
“Eloise, please, let me explain—”
The pain rumbles closer as shame starts to burn inside me. “Explain?” I cry. “Explain what? You didn’t care about helping me with my speech or teaching me about Mexico City. You just wanted to further your career. And you know what—I would have understood! You could have just told me the truth. But instead, you lied to me, and you abandoned me when I needed you the most. You made me trust you, and then you broke that trust.”
I feel like such an idiot. Such a small, stupid thing.
Agustín leans forward. “I wanted to tell you the truth,” he says, his voice radiating with intensity. “I’ve been wanting to tell you for so long, but … it never seemed like the right time, and I didn’t want anything to distract you because I knew how nervous you were.”
“Bullshit,” I snap. “Don’t use my anxiety as an excuse. You could have told me the truth at any point but you didn’t. Instead, you lied and then bailed on me at the first opportunity.”
“I’ll cancel the article,” he says grabbing his phone. “I’ll tell Neil right now that I quit.”
“Don’t you dare,” I hiss, leaping to my feet. “Don’t you dare put that on me.”
“I love you, Eloise,” he says. His face is twisted in pain, his eyes blazing, but I can barely look at him anymore. “I’ll do anything to make this right. Anything at all. Please. I can’t lose you. Please, just tell me what to do.”
I shake my head. The train is so loud now, the pain filling my limbs, roaring in my ears, snaking through my ribcage.
“I trusted you,” I say, and my voice cracks. “And yet you never trusted me.”
I knew this was too good to be true. I knew this kind of love was never meant for me, and I was stupid enough to allow myself to believe in it.
“This was only ever meant to be an arrangement. Transactional,” I say, impressed with how steady my voice is. “That text makes it clear that’s all it ever was for you anyway.”
He opens his mouth but I silence him with a look.
“This is why I don’t let people into my life,” I say coldly. “Thank you for reminding me of that. I never want to see you again.”
“Eloise, no, please, no,” Agustín says, jumping to his feet and reaching for me. I shrink away from him.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” I say. The pain is fracturing into pieces inside me, shattering like a mirror, glass and jagged edges everywhere. I need to get out of here. “Find somewhere else to stay tonight,” I warn him. “We’re done.”
Then I turn on my heel and storm out of the building.
48Agustín
My world crumbles as I watch the woman I love run away from me.
I want to chase after her, to hold her close, to fall to my knees and beg her to forgive me.
How could I be so stupid? How could I have let this happen? I knew she didn’t trust easily. I knew what a precious soul I’d found in her. I knew how goddamn lucky I was and now I’ve gone and fucked it all up. Possibly beyond repair.
My legs feel numb. The pain is waiting, just offstage, ready to emerge and drown me with its icy grip.
I need to get out of here. I need to get away from the glamour, from the shrieks of glee, from this wedding that brought me the greatest gift and yet now has caused me the most brutal agony.
It’s time to take responsibility. I caused this. I have no one to blame but myself. I could have told her right away and I didn’t. I chose this.
Now I have to live with that choice.
