Chapters (58)
- Cover
- Praise for Abbi Waxman and her novels
- Berkley Titles by Abbi Waxman
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Summer
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- Fall
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Readers Guide
- Questions for Discussion
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
Polly shrugged. “I’m merely entertaining the possibilities.” She paused. “And I have to say, your possibilities look pretty entertaining.”
“Right, I’m definitely wearing a T-shirt,” said Laura, looking around for something.
“No,” said Polly, poking her. “You look great, own it.” She paused, then added curiously, “Do your scars hurt?”
Laura shook her head. “They itch sometimes.”
“Huh,” said Polly, still gazing at her with frank curiosity. “Those muscles must take effort. Do you work out every day?”
Laura blushed and nodded. “After the accident I spent a year doing rehab, right?”
Polly nodded.
“Well, it became a necessity. Not because I wanted more mobility, but because I feel less . . . freaked out when I exercise a lot.” She sighed. “Honestly, the accident kind of messed me up.”
Polly moved her head to indicate Laura’s scars. “I see that.”
Laura shook her head. “No, my body is the easy part. It’s the shit you can’t see that worries me.” She hesitated, not sure if Polly was going to understand. She seemed so confident and certain of herself. “I’m sure it will be fine, never mind.”
“How long has it been?”
“Nearly two years. I really should be over it by now.”
“Says who?” asked Polly.
Laura looked at her and shrugged. “Says me, I guess.”
“Maybe you should stop listening to yourself,” said Polly. “It sounds like you’re maybe not giving yourself the best advice.” Her tone was light, but her expression was serious. “I’ve learned recently that my mind isn’t the safest neighborhood to go into alone.” She grinned. “Still want to swim?”
Laura nodded. “Yes, but really, Polly, should I wear something else?”
“No,” replied her friend and new personal stylist, turning to leave the room. “Stop worrying. It’s ninety degrees out and you’re wearing a swimsuit at a swimming pool, not lingerie at a board meeting.” Laura wasn’t sure this was a valid point, but Polly said it so firmly she decided to go along with it. Grabbing a towel from the bathroom, she followed the other woman out of the cool house into the hot sun.
• • •
As Laura padded across the grass after Polly, she could smell rosemary and the beginnings of the jasmine. Laura couldn’t believe she’d been here for several days and hadn’t seen the pool yet. When Polly pushed open a gate at the far side of the rose garden—a gate Laura hadn’t even noticed—she caught her breath.