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Chapters (86)
  1. Title Page
  2. CONTENTS
  3. Love
  4. Before
  5. One
  6. ONE
  7. Two
  8. TWO
  9. Three
  10. THREE
  11. Four
  12. FOUR
  13. Five
  14. FIVE
  15. Six
  16. SIX
  17. Seven
  18. SEVEN
  19. Eight
  20. EIGHT
  21. Nine
  22. NINE
  23. Ten
  24. TEN
  25. Eleven
  26. ELEVEN
  27. After
  28. One
  29. ONE
  30. Two
  31. TWO
  32. Three
  33. THREE
  34. Four
  35. FOUR
  36. Five
  37. FIVE
  38. Six
  39. SIX
  40. Seven
  41. SEVEN
  42. Eight
  43. EIGHT
  44. Nine
  45. NINE
  46. Ten
  47. TEN
  48. Eleven
  49. ELEVEN
  50. Twelve
  51. TWELVE
  52. Thirteen
  53. THIRTEEN
  54. Fourteen
  55. FOURTEEN
  56. Fifteen
  57. FIFTEEN
  58. Sixteen
  59. SIXTEEN
  60. Seventeen
  61. SEVENTEEN
  62. Eighteen
  63. EIGHTEEN
  64. Nineteen
  65. NINETEEN
  66. Twenty
  67. TWENTY
  68. Twenty-One
  69. TWENTY-ONE
  70. Twenty-Two
  71. TWENTY-TWO
  72. Twenty-Three
  73. TWENTY-THREE
  74. Twenty-Four
  75. TWENTY-FOUR
  76. Twenty-Five
  77. TWENTY-FIVE
  78. Twenty-Six
  79. TWENTY-SIX
  80. Twenty-Seven
  81. TWENTY-SEVEN
  82. Twenty-Eight
  83. TWENTY-EIGHT
  84. Eleven Months Later
  85. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  86. Copyright

But then I think about all the graves we’re sitting among and the people who visit them each day, who polish the granite and clear the weeds and leave fresh flowers for their husbands and wives and friends. The people they love and miss as much as I love and miss Poppy and would give anything for one more day with them.

As much as I’d like to think we are, we’re not special, are we? It may feel that way sometimes, when I think about those afternoons we spent in our café, knees touching under the tiny table, when it felt like the earth was spinning a little slower. When we talked and talked, every conversation like our first, and last, all at once. Opening each of the doors inside us that, until then, we’d been so careful to keep locked, only to find that it wasn’t as scary – that we weren’t as scary – as we thought.

That we weren’t so wild and difficult to love.

After being so sure that I wasn’t made for anyone, just those girls who were fond of playing with matches around my paper heart, I found her. And maybe we’re not special – cure cancer and change the world kind of special, special enough to deserve to be reunited when no one else does – yet here we are. We’ve found each other again. Of all the people, her. Not my mother or my father or Rosh or Adara, who I love and miss just as much as I love and miss her.

And that has to mean something.

It has to.

With that, I feel the surge of something I haven’t felt since New Year’s Eve.

It takes me a moment to realise what it is and when I do, the relief is dizzying.

Purpose.

‘Right,’ I say, zipping up my leather jacket. ‘Let’s go to the bookshop.’

Esen watches me, clearly confused. ‘Why?’

‘So I can ask Deborah what the fuck is going on.’

Seventeen

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SEVENTEEN

Esen just laughs, but when she realises that I’m serious, her face hardens. ‘Are you out of your mind?’

‘Absolutely not,’ I tell her, shaking my head.

The opposite, in fact.

For the first time in weeks I know exactly what I’m doing.

Esen turns to Dev, who looks equally horrified, then back at me. ‘You can’t tell Deborah about this.’

‘Why not?’

‘What do you mean, Why not?’ She looks at Dev as if to say, Are you listening to this? When Dev shakes her head, Esen turns to face me again. ‘You know why not, Ash. I know it seems like all Deborah does is hang around the shop all day, handing out Post-it notes and dusting books, but do you even realise how powerful she is?’

‘No, I don’t and neither do you,’ I remind her. ‘None of us do, Esen. Not for sure.’