Chapters (77)
- Cover
- Dedication
- 1
- 2
- A Series of Screw-ups: The Chisaki Joan Katsuyama Story, Part I
- 3
- The History of My Beef with Brynn Foer-Preston
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part I
- 8
- 9
- A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part I
- 10
- 11
- 12
- A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part II
- 13
- The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part II
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- The Complicated History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Imaginary Relationship with Her Nonexistent Dad
- 20
- 21
- 22
- A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part III
- 23
- 24
- 25
- A Brief, Backward History of the McAllister Family, as Paraphrased from the San Jose Mercury News
- 26
- 27
- 28
- A Quick and Eerily Relevant History of Asians in America
- 29
- 30
- 31
- 32
- 33
- 34
- 35
- 36
- A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part IV
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- 42
- 43
- 44
- A Series of Screw-ups: The Chisaki Joan Katsuyama Story, Part II (Or Maybe It’s a Prequel)
- 45
- 46
- 47
- 48
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- 53
- The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part III
- 54
- A Note from the Author
- Index of Flowers and their Meanings
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Praise for This Time Will Be Different
- Books by Misa Sugiura
- Back Ad
- About the Publisher
By the time I’ve reached his side, Shane is half standing, hands on his knees, spitting into the grass. “Shit,” he says, “That was a lot of beer.”
“Yeah.”
He stands upright and wobbles on his feet. I can’t leave him out here. “Let’s get you inside where you can lie down.”
His brow furrows and his perfect lips gather into a frown as he considers this option. He looks down at me, and his half-lowered lids rise suddenly, as if he’s surprised to see me there, then sink back down again. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. Come on, let’s go inside.”
He allows me to lead him, like a beautiful, barfy, repentant Siberian husky puppy, back through the front hall. “I’m so sorry,” he keeps repeating.
We find a bathroom where Shane rinses out his mouth, and then I settle him in the reading nook on his side and find a wastebasket (leather, but beggars can’t be choosers) and put it next to the bench.
“I’m so sorry,” he slurs one last time. He takes my hand and squeezes it and gives me a sweet, lopsided smile. “Thank you,” he says.
Now that my encounter with Shane is officially over, I don’t really want to be here anymore. So I slip out the front door again and head to my car.
As I walk down the driveway, something blooms inside me—an understanding that’s been unfolding for a while now, I realize. Shane’s not right for me. He’s beyond not right for me, in fact. Shane is sexy and good-natured and bound for glory, and he thinks I’m pretty and sexy and badass and a good listener, and those are all good things, but I think . . . I think I want more than that.
The reality is that he just doesn’t get me. And I don’t get him. Not really. There’s no spark, as Emily would say. No magic. I think I liked it better when my relationship with him was a fantasy from afar. And I want someone who I can appreciate up close. Someone I really connect with. Who likes it when I listen, but who also wants to listen back. Who thinks I’m badass, but challenges me and holds me accountable when I fuck up. Who has seen me at my shitty, petty, selfish worst, and still wants to hang around with me.
At least, I hope he still wants to hang around with me.
I need to find Owen and tell him I’m sorry for being a jerk and for letting my stupid personal issues with Brynn get in the way of the big picture. I wonder if he’d be willing to listen to me, if he’d be willing to forgive me. I wonder if he still— Hey, is that his truck?