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Back Careful What You Wish For Save as PDF
Chapters (52)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. Acknowledgments
  45. P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . .*
  46. About the Author
  47. About the Book
  48. Reading Group Guide
  49. Read On
  50. Praise for Careful What You Wish For
  51. Also by Hallie Ephron
  52. About the Publisher

Frank picked up her cell phone. “Your battery’s nearly dead. Want me to plug it in for you?”

“Thanks.” Emily sank back into the pillows. “My charger’s . . .” Where had she left it? “I think it’s in my gear bag. Could be in the kitchen or maybe in the car.”

Frank kissed her on the top of her head, turned out the lights, and left the room.

She took another drink and inhaled deeply. She closed her eyes, trying not to think about all the loose ends left from a day of surprises. Middlebury College bookplate. Board of Education doorknob. The tube that had to go back to the storage unit ASAP.

Her head jerked forward. She took one last sip and set the mug on the table. Her mouth tasted of cocoa grit. She really should get up and brush her teeth and rinse out the mug. But she didn’t have the energy.

She closed her eyes. Her phone’s LOW BATTERY message flickered in her head, along with a pair of devil emoticons. Plug herself in. That was what she needed to do. But she didn’t have a plug, and the outlet was . . .

11

MONDAY

IT SEEMED LIKE only moments later the sun was shining in through the bedroom windows and Emily blinked awake. She’d forgotten to close the blinds. It was after nine, and Frank’s side of the bed was rumpled but empty. She never slept this late. Her cell phone was on the bedside table, plugged in. She powered it on.

She tried to sit up but managed only to prop herself up on her elbows. It felt as if a fifty-pound weight shifted in her skull. She hadn’t had a hangover this bad since college.

In the bathroom, she sat doubled over on the toilet, trying not to think about throwing up. When she was able to get up—slowly—she splashed cold water on her face and neck. Brushed her teeth. Then she knocked back a couple of aspirin and forced herself into the shower. Under the pulsing showerhead, her mind cleared.

She wrapped herself in a towel and padded out to her bureau. It still came as a surprise to find her underwear neatly rolled in the drawer. No more having to forage through to find what she wanted; now it was like plucking a chocolate donut from a tray of glazed. Such a simple thing. It might not spark joy, but it did spark serenity. Her foot was still too sore to lace it into a sneaker, so she put on her Crocs again.