Excerpt from THE PLUS-ONE LIST by Amy Ewing, Chapter 3:
Agustín
I’m still lost in thought as I head to the subway.
I love the New York subway system. Yes, sometimes it stinks, and it’s crowded, and unreliable on weekends, and there’s usually someone asking you for money or urinating on the platform, but there’s this sense of community on the train. We’re all in this together. Even though no one ever looks at each other and when someone starts shouting about Jesus, everybody just pretends it’s not happening. I love the sense of time travel the subway gives you— going underground and emerging in a totally different part of the city. There’s a feeling of endless movement, of connectivity, of neighborhoods sprouting up like mushrooms. The subway is the connective tissue of New York, its nervous system, pulsing with energy and electricity.
I get off at Borough Hall and head toward the small cocktail bar on Henry Street that my friend Eva has apparently been dying to try. Nicolas and Eva Garcia are brother and sister— they live in Bushwick (like me) and they’re Chilangos from Mexico City (like me). That’s about where our similarities end. I met them at a local dive bar in our neighborhood back in February, and we started hanging out. I could never tell what they did for a living, and then I realized: nothing. They do nothing. Their father runs a huge real estate company in CDMX, and they’ve been living in New York for three years, just throwing parties and going on vacations and generally existing, as far as I can tell.
Apparently, this is a thing in Bushwick: kids from rich families living in a scruffier neighborhood and pretending they are “of the common man.”
My scalp prickles as it occurs to me that they are exactly the kind of people who would run in Diego Alvarez’s circle.
The cocktail bar is on a corner, with big windows revealing circular booths inside. I catch sight of my reflection as I enter—my thick black hair can most charitably be described as “unruly” and the wind off the water back in FiDi did not do me any favors. I run my fingers through it and pull open the door. It’s five thirty, so there are only a handful of other patrons inside. Nico and Eva sit in one of the booths facing the windows, and Eva leaps up to greet me.
“Oh my god, look at you!” she cries in Spanish, kissing my cheek. “Qué guapo.” She runs her fingers along my blue button-down shirt, which is, to be fair, the nicest one I own. I’m generally a tee and hoodie type of guy.
“Qué tal, wey,” Nicolas says, getting up to give me his usual quick, two- pat bro hug.
“How was the interview?” Eva gushes, as Nico waves the waitress over.
“Good,” I say, switching to English to order a negroni, then back to Spanish. “They’re giving me a chance.”
“No mames!” Eva gasps. Eva is always gasping. She’s one of the most excitable people I’ve ever met. She styles herself a bit like Amy Winehouse, with big hair and cat- eye makeup and red lips.
“That’s great, bro,” Nico says, sipping his old- fashioned. Nico, in contrast to Eva, always looks like he just rolled out of bed and threw on whatever clothes were within reach.
“So what did they say? When can I buy my copy? This is so cool,” Eva says breathlessly. “The New Yorker!”
I shift on the faux leather, and it creaks. All Eva and Nico really know about the article is that it’s about an activist from Mexico. They had no idea who El Rasca was when I mentioned his name. Besides, they aren’t the sort of immigrants Abuelo was fighting on behalf of. I don’t begrudge them their money; they just don’t get what it’s like for people like me.
“I still have some work left to do,” I tell her. “Actually, I could use your help.”
Eva sits up, her dark eyes sparkling.
“Any chance you guys know a Diego Alvarez? His father runs Grupo R—”
Eva shrieks so loud I jump.
“Know him?” she says, then starts laughing. Even Nico gives a chuckle as he downs the rest of his drink. “Obviously! Nico used to play golf with Diego at Club de Golf Chapultepec. Our mom has lunch with his mom all the time at Hoyo 20.”
“Yeah, he has a killer backswing,” Nico grumbles.
My pulse trips in my veins. Surely I can’t get this lucky twice in one day. “Seriously?”
“He got engaged to some gringa a few months ago,” Nico says lazily.
“Rachel Lazcari,” Eva pipes up. “Her Insta is fire. Their wedding is going to be insane. I can’t wait. It’s all anyone is talking about back home.”
“So you two are going?” I ask. Eva nods eagerly. I lean forward. “Is there any chance you could get me an invitation?”
Nico looks confused and Eva frowns. “Why?” she asks.
“I need to talk to someone at the wedding,” I admit. “One of the other guests. This person is the last piece of the puzzle I need to complete the article, and I’m having a hard time getting in touch with him.”
Eva’s face crinkles with pity. “Oh, Agustín,” she says, patting my hand as the waitress comes over with my drink. “There’s no way. this wedding is, like, the event of the year. Of the decade. Of the century! Jorge Alvarez is loaded.” She enunciates each syllable, then plucks an olive from her martini glass and chews. “He’s even bought out most of the Four Seasons for the guests. They’re, like, gonna close down Centro.”
“They’re not closing down Centro,” Nico says, rolling his eyes. Centro Histórico is the historic center of Mexico City, full of museums and iconic buildings.
“Okay, but you know how protective Señor Alvarez is about privacy.”
“You don’t even know the wedding will be in Centro,” Nico points out.
Eva purses her lips. “True. The invitation is just a QR code to RSVP. No location or even an exact date yet, because they’re keeping things so locked down for security. I heard Diego Luna and Gael García Bernal are going to be there. And there’s a rumor Luis Miguel might sing.”
Holy shit, if Jorge Alvarez can get El Sol de México to perform at his son’s wedding, then he’s got more influence than I thought.
“Eva, no fucking way Luis Miguel is singing at the wedding, that’s just Abril de la Fuente making shit up as usual,” Nico says. “But yeah, there will definitely be celebrities.”
I take a drink of my negroni, its bitterness coating my mouth. There’s no chance I could talk my way into an event this high profile.
“Wait!” Eva gasps. “I could put you on the list of más-unos!”
“A plus- one list?” I ask, frowning. I’ve never heard of anything like that. Maybe it’s a rich-person thing.
“It’s just for close family and friends,” Eva says, taking out her phone, its jewel-encrusted case flashing in the sunlight. “You know, people in our circles.” Yup, definitely a rich- person thing. “Everyone needs a más-uno at weddings. No exceptions.”
Nico chuckles. “Remember that time I brought Maria- Victoria Ramirez to Tía Jimena’s wedding, and she drank so much mezcal she threw up on the sound system?”
Eva slaps him on the shoulder. “Yes, I do, and you know what? You and the rest of your friends could do with making a list of your own, so shit like that doesn’t happen again. Men,” she mutters, rolling her eyes and typing frantically. “Anyway, we share names of potential dates on the list, so that if any woman needs one, they know they have a trusted recommendation. You cannot attend a wedding without a date. It’s mandatory. And can you think of anything more embarrassing than going to a wedding alone?” She shudders delicately.
“Eva,” I beg. “Please, can you put me on that list?”
“Claro,” she says, playfully nudging my arm. “But I can’t promise anything. The engagement was only announced in January and everything is moving at lighting speed. Everyone I know who’s going already has a plus-one. Nico, you know anyone available?”
“Sorry, bro,” he says to me.
Eva scrolls down her phone and then cocks her head, looking at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Just thinking how I’ll describe you,” she says.
“Describe me?”
“Every man on the list comes with details. Bits of personal info. So the woman can pick the right match.”
I do not love the sound of that. I can’t imagine what details Eva is going to put down about me.
She types something out quickly. “I’m sending this out to my contacts now as Updated Más Unos. And . . . sent!” She beams at me, then her smile falters. “It’s a long shot, though.”
Long shots are my specialty. Moving to New York? Long shot. Getting a meeting at The New Yorker? Longer shot. This wedding invite may be my longest shot yet.
But I’m an optimist. Pon chonguitos, there’s someone, somewhere out there who still needs a date to this wedding.
Excerpted from THE PLUS-ONE LIST by Amy Ewing. Copyright © 2026 by Amy Ewing. Reprinted by permission
From New York Times bestselling author Amy Ewing comes a steamy new vacation romance perfect for fans of Christina Lauren’s The Paradise Problem.
Eloise, who struggles with anxiety, strongly prefers the company of her senior rescue dogs to people. But when her best friend announces she’s getting married in Mexico City and every guest must have a date, the pressure is on. Using an exclusive “plus-one list,” Eloise winds up with Agustín, a charming journalist and immigrant who recently moved to New York City from Mexico.
Agustín is on a mission to write the article of his career, but to do that, he’ll need to snag an interview with a man who’s proven impossible to track down. His only chance is to catch the source unaware at the upcoming “wedding of the century.” At first, being Eloise’s plus-one seems like the perfect solution, a purely transactional arrangement. Eloise is not looking for romance, and Agustín sees no need to tell her about his true motives for coming to the wedding.
As they play tourists in Agustín’s hometown, sampling smoky cocktails and delicious street food and meeting his family, Eloise slowly comes out of her shell. Suddenly, her blossoming trust in Agustín starts to grow into something deeper. But if Agustín wants to keep that trust, he’ll need to come clean—before their fragile connection is broken forever.
The Plus-One List is a deeply vulnerable and intimate romance novel that will make readers long for a dazzlingly romantic summer vacation. Read less
Romance Holiday | Romance Comedy [ Alcove Press, On Sale: October 20, 2026, Trade Paperback / e-Book, ISBN: 9798892425353 / eISBN: 9798892425360 ]
As the daughter of a librarian, books were a crucial part of Amy Ewing's childhood. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from The New School, and her young adult fantasy novel The Jewel became a New York Times and international bestseller. She also publishes adult contemporary romance, including The Irish Goodbye and her forthcoming title,The Plus-One List. Amy lives in New York City with her fiancé, two rescue dogs, and more books than she has shelf space for.
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