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Chapters (66)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Chapter One
  5. Chapter Two
  6. Chapter Three
  7. Chapter Four
  8. Chapter Five
  9. Chapter Six
  10. Chapter Seven
  11. Chapter Eight
  12. Chapter Nine
  13. Chapter Ten
  14. Chapter Eleven
  15. Chapter Twelve
  16. Chapter Thirteen
  17. Chapter Fourteen
  18. Chapter Fifteen
  19. Chapter Sixteen
  20. Chapter Seventeen
  21. Chapter Eighteen
  22. Chapter Nineteen
  23. Chapter Twenty
  24. Chapter Twenty-One
  25. Chapter Twenty-Two
  26. Chapter Twenty-Three
  27. Chapter Twenty-Four
  28. Chapter Twenty-Five
  29. Chapter Twenty-Six
  30. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  31. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  32. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  33. Chapter Thirty
  34. Chapter Thirty-One
  35. Chapter Thirty-Two
  36. Chapter Thirty-Three
  37. Chapter Thirty-Four
  38. Chapter Thirty-Five
  39. Chapter Thirty-Six
  40. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  41. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  42. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  43. Chapter Forty
  44. Chapter Forty-One
  45. Chapter Forty-Two
  46. Chapter Forty-Three
  47. Chapter Forty-Four
  48. Chapter Forty-Five
  49. Chapter Forty-Six
  50. Chapter Forty-Seven
  51. Chapter Forty-Eight
  52. Chapter Forty-Nine
  53. Chapter Fifty
  54. Chapter Fifty-One
  55. Chapter Fifty-Two
  56. Chapter Fifty-Three
  57. Chapter Fifty-Four
  58. Chapter Fifty-Five
  59. Chapter Fifty-Six
  60. Chapter Fifty-Seven
  61. Chapter Fifty-Eight
  62. Chapter Fifty-Nine
  63. Chapter Sixty
  64. Chapter Sixty-One
  65. Chapter Sixty-Two
  66. Acknowledgments

Griffin and I slipped into couplehood seamlessly and privately. We christened every room. Griffin took to saying, “before anyone else!” Except, of course, for his bedroom, which had been occupied by others before me. I couldn’t nitpick on this one since I had gone off and gotten married. Perhaps all the times that Griffin and I had come together, we were creating our own version of married sex.

We always showed up for each other when asked, when needed, or when wanted. We showed up for each other at the unexpected death of parents, the loss of a beloved home, splashy openings, troubled times, on Tuesdays or Wednesdays, and on rainy days that offered themselves up to us and our imagination. We approached each other in kindness, without questions, and with gratitude.

Occasionally my thoughts would wade into dangerous waters. What if I had never left Atlanta? And all those should’ves, could’ves, and would’ves regarding both Griffin and Elliott. There’s a significant difference between contractions and commas. Contractions may shorten phrases. Yet, contractions caused me to remain stuck. Emotional quicksand lies beneath the surface of those little words. Commas and prepositional phrases can go on and on like an infinity pool.

When I was twenty-one, I was ready to take on the world. I had the deepest desire to chart my own destiny. I had misgivings about being “just” Bailey Edgeworth, daughter of, sister of, and friend of. Why had I limited myself like that? At twenty-one I didn’t know shit.

In nine years, I had become so many more things. Some good. Some not so good. I had added some astonishing roles to that short and rather naïve list.

I was Bailey Edgeworth, surrounded by good men and good food, devoted friend to some treasured women, vintage shopper, learned apprentice under Julian, girlfriend, muse, lover of the right man, lover of the wrong man, awesome aunt to Hank, unapologetic aficionado of beauty, cappuccino connoisseur, guinea pig for creative cocktails, bridesmaid, wedding planner, recipient of 40 Under 40, enabler, caregiver, liar, reluctant hostess, ex-wife, colossal fuck-up, tabloid fodder, motherless, destitute, and lover of the right man—again. And I was Bailey Edgeworth: visionary.

Who said there were no “do-overs” in life? We were planning a trip to Martha’s Vineyard in the spring to visit Elaine’s. And to Italy.