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Chapters (58)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for Abbi Waxman and her novels
  3. Berkley Titles by Abbi Waxman
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Summer
  7. ONE
  8. TWO
  9. THREE
  10. FOUR
  11. FIVE
  12. SIX
  13. SEVEN
  14. EIGHT
  15. NINE
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. TWENTY
  27. TWENTY-ONE
  28. TWENTY-TWO
  29. TWENTY-THREE
  30. TWENTY-FOUR
  31. TWENTY-FIVE
  32. TWENTY-SIX
  33. TWENTY-SEVEN
  34. TWENTY-EIGHT
  35. TWENTY-NINE
  36. THIRTY
  37. THIRTY-ONE
  38. THIRTY-TWO
  39. THIRTY-THREE
  40. THIRTY-FOUR
  41. THIRTY-FIVE
  42. THIRTY-SIX
  43. THIRTY-SEVEN
  44. Fall
  45. THIRTY-EIGHT
  46. THIRTY-NINE
  47. FORTY
  48. FORTY-ONE
  49. FORTY-TWO
  50. FORTY-THREE
  51. FORTY-FOUR
  52. FORTY-FIVE
  53. EPILOGUE
  54. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  55. Readers Guide
  56. Questions for Discussion
  57. About the Author
  58. What’s next onyour reading list?

“Maggie, thanks for a lovely dinner. Madeleine, I’d like to say it was nice to meet you, but you’re kind of a bitch. Nina, thanks for the T-shirt.” She took it from Nina as she passed her. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Then she left the room, walked to her bedroom, and shut the door.

After a second of silence, both dogs got up and followed her.

THIRTY-FOUR

After taking a long, hard run the next morning, Laura spent most of Sunday curled up and hiding in her room. In the afternoon she watched the baseball game, and when she went to the bathroom she could hear it playing in Bob’s room, too. She hesitated. Part of her wanted so badly to go knock on his door and watch the game as if nothing difficult had ever happened between them. No freaking out repeatedly. No kissing. No loss of tempers at ex-boyfriends. But most of her felt too ashamed to be seen by anyone, and she returned to the game alone. Back under her shell, back behind her wall, back to the privacy of her own head. Maybe it wasn’t the friendliest place to be, but at least it was the most familiar.

Sometime around the seventh inning, there was a knock on her door. Laura opened it a little and saw Polly. Being Polly, she pushed past Laura into the room and came straight to the point.

“Hey there,” she said, sitting on the floor with the fluidity of a child. “Last night was super entertaining for me, but I imagine it sucked for you.”

Laura nodded.

Polly nodded back. “Yup, I bet you hated every second of it.” She hugged her knees and rocked back and forth a little.

Laura gave another nod. Polly was so forthright she blew right past Laura’s defenses and made them feel unnecessary. Laura didn’t really understand the mechanics of it; one minute she was completely alone and feeling like crap, the next minute Polly was there and she was feeling better. But if you’d asked her if she’d wanted company, she’d have said no. Do other people find being alive easier than this? Surely to God everyone isn’t struggling this much?

“Which was worse,” asked Polly conversationally, “the part where we were all talking about you as if you weren’t there, or the bit where your ex revealed what a shit heel he really was?”

Laura frowned at her. “Neither. The worst part was when I lost my temper and stormed out.”