Title Page

Also by Jamie McGuire

ALSO BY JAMIE MCGUIRE

Providence (Providence Trilogy: Book One)

Requiem (Providence Trilogy: Book Two)

Eden (Providence Trilogy: Book Three)

Beautiful Disaster

Walking Disaster

A Beautiful Wedding (A Beautiful Disaster Novella)

Beautiful Oblivion

Red Hill

Among Monsters

Happenstance: A Novella Series

Happenstance: A Novella Series (Part Two)

Happenstance: A Novella Series (Part Three)

Apolonia

Beautiful Redemption

Copyright © 2015 by Jamie McGuire

Copyright © 2015 by Jamie McGuire

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Dedication

For Autumn Hull,

Your friendship is invaluable.

And for Kelli Spear,

I’m so thankful to have you in my corner.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Preorder Happenstance: Part Three

Chapter One

CONTROL WAS ALL THAT WAS REAL. I had learned from a young age that planning, calculation, and observation could avoid most unpleasant things—unnecessary risk, disappointment, and most importantly, heartache.

Planning to avoid the unpleasant though wasn’t always easy, a fact that had become glaringly apparent in the dim lights of Cutter’s Pub.

The dozen or so neon signs hanging on the walls and the weak track lighting from the ceiling, highlighting the bottles of liquor behind the bar, were only slightly comforting. Everything else made it evident just how far I was from home.

The reclaimed barn wood made up the walls, and the blond pine smudged with black stain had been designed specifically to make the Midtown space look like a hole-in-the-wall bar, but it was too clean. A hundred years of smoke hadn’t saturated the paint. The walls didn’t whisper about Capone or Dillinger.

I’d been sitting on the same stool for two hours since I’d quit unpacking the boxes in my new condo. For as long as I could stand, I’d put away my items that made up who I was. Exploring my new neighborhood was much more appealing, especially in the amazingly mild night air even though it was the last day in February. I was experiencing my new independence with the added freedom of having no one at home who expected a report of my whereabouts.