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I take out my phone and text Caro.

Me: Can I stay at your place tonight?

Her response is instant.

Caro: Of course.

And then …

Caro: You fucked it all up, didn’t you?

I wish I could laugh. But my face feels brittle, like a smile could shatter it.

Me: See you soon.

49Eloise

I wake up the next morning feeling like utter shit.

My head throbs, and my eyes feel puffy and swollen. There was so much crying last night. My heart feels bruised and tender. My muscles are stiff. My ribs ache and my mouth tastes awful. I didn’t bother to take my makeup off or brush my teeth. The dress is crumpled in a corner, the butterfly pin on the nightstand next to my phone.

I did manage to get one text to Rachel when I got back last night, telling her I was sorry about the speech and to have fun without me. Hopefully, she just thinks I left the wedding in shame.

My fractured heart throbs a painful beat. I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling.

I just want to go home. Home to where I’m safe. I want to go back into my cocoon, where nothing can hurt me anymore. I feel like such an idiot. A fool.

The tears well up again. My swollen eyes can’t handle it anymore. The pain throbs at the raw edges of my heart.

A sudden pounding on my door sends a shockwave through me, launching me upright.

“Eloise Madigan Whitechapel, open this door right now, or I swear to god I will break it down!” Rachel’s voice pierces through my fog of depression. I hurry to answer it, because her threats are real, and I don’t want her causing any property damage.

The minute she sees my face, she gasps. “What happened?” she demands, sweeping inside the room and closing the door.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at your post wedding brunch?” I mumble trying to avoid her eyes.

“No, no, don’t you dare. Last night, I thought maybe you were just freaking out about your speech—which was fine, by the way.” I cut her a glare. “Okay, obviously it didn’t go as planned but whatever, who cares. Everyone got so drunk, and the party was such a blast, no one’s ever going to remember anyway.”

“I care,” I insist.

“Well, I don’t think that’s what the problem is because I have been trying to reach both you and Agustín, and neither of you are talking to me, and that is not normal.”

She glances around the room. “Where is he?”

My eyes fill with tears, and my throat clenches so tight it hurts. “I broke up with him,” I say.

Rachel’s face goes blank with shock. “What? Oh, El. Why?”

A fat tear trickles down my cheek. “He lied to me, Rach.”

Rachel gathers me up in her arms. She squeezes me close and then leads me over to sit together on the edge of the bed. “Start from the beginning.”

I tell her everything—the text, the interview, his lame excuses, how he broke his promise. “I knew it was all too good to be true,” I say at the end, as Rachel hands me a tissue so I can blow my nose. “I feel so stupid. Of course he didn’t really like me. Of course he just wanted to further his career. I never want to see him, ever again. I just want to go home, Rachel. I want things to go back to before. I wish I’d never met him.”

“Hold up one second,” Rachel says. “I definitely agree this was not Agustín’s finest moment.”

“Not his finest moment?” I yelp. “Rachel, he lied to me!”