“And you were free on New Year’s, or were they just that charming?”

“God no,” I say. “I’m new here, I didn’t have any plans. I don’t think the guys I came with actually know the host.”

“I don’t think very many people at this party do,” he says.

I shake my head. “What kind of nut job lets a bunch of strangers into his home?”

At that moment, a boisterous blond woman about his age appears at his side and wraps herself around his arm.

“Darling! How many times have I told you, you’ve really got to lock the doors to the bedrooms. There was about to be an orgy back there, honestly! But don’t worry, I’ve shooed them off. Oh, hello,” she says, noticing me. “Who have we here?”

“Actually we haven’t been properly introduced . . .”

Who am I again? “Liz Sullivan,” I say.

“Gemma,” the blond woman says, shaking my hand. Her eyes are a bright, inviting blue. Without knowing why, I like her instantly.

“Liz here was just wondering what kind of madman invites a bunch of strangers over to his house,” the man says, and Gemma bursts out laughing.

“Liz Sullivan,” she finally manages to spit out, “meet Edward White, the madman of Belgrano.”

I feel myself blushing, though thankfully Edward looks more amused than annoyed.

“Actually,” I say, shaking his proffered hand, “I said ‘nut job.’ Anyway, sorry.”

“Oh Edward, I like her. I like you, do stick around.” Thank goodness, she’s shit-faced.

“I didn’t realize,” I say. “I thought you’d be surveying the party from a balcony somewhere. Keeping the high watch for Daisy Buchanan.”

“Fitzgerald,” Edward says, smiling. “Now you can stay.”

“Spot on,” Gemma says. “Edward is always picking up waifs and strays.”

“I like colorful people.”

“That’s one word for them! So, Liz Sullivan, what brings you to Buenos Aires?”

It’s the first time someone’s really asked me this, and I don’t have an answer ready. “I’m just doing some traveling. I needed to get away for a while. Bad breakup.” That’s true at least.

“Oh no!” Gemma says. “Another member of the Buenos Aires Lonely Hearts Society!”

“Breakups are one of the main things that bring people here,” Edward says. “Anecdotally, anyway.”

“We’ll have to keep Gianluca away from you!”

“Gemma, don’t be terrible.”

She rolls her eyes and with a sly smile says, “Didn’t I tell you? A soft spot for reprobates.”

“I thought you liked him.”

“I never said I didn’t.”

Have they forgotten I’m standing here? “Sorry, who’s Gianluca?”

Gemma laughs. “It depends on who you ask! A Roman exile, a Grecian con man, the illegitimate son of Juan Perón.”

Edward rolls his eyes. “Gossip and rumors. Gianluca is a very talented musician and dancer. I met him years ago in Saint-Tropez. He owns a tango studio here now.”