Chapters (50)
- Cover
- Full Page Image
- Dedication
- Playlist
- Prologue
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Part Two
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Part Three
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Bonus Scene
- Marni’s Midnighters
- Spoiler Group
- About the Author
- Also by Marni Mann
- Sneak Peek of When Darkness Ends
- Sneak Peek of Even If It Hurts
What if it doesn’t?
Epilogue
Emily
“Can you please lift your seat? We’re getting ready to land,” the flight attendant said as she stood next to me.
I pressed the button on my armrest, the chair lifting several inches until my back was fully straight. I watched her move down the next few rows, checking each one before reaching the front galley. She was putting away the champagne she’d poured not too long ago and the glasses she’d recently collected from our trays. First class was an entirely new experience for me and probably one I’d never have again. But for this flight, I’d gobbled up every course that was offered and accepted all the refills of wine even if beer was more my thing.
The warm buzz in my body reminded me of the time Whitney and I had gotten drunk on the way to Cancun. It’d happened a bunch of years ago, a spring break trip during college, and it was Whitney’s first time flying. She was so anxious about the flight. I fed her beers at the airport and champagne once we boarded. Within an hour, she was asleep on my shoulder and didn’t wake until we landed. But that was the moment she fell in love with flying and had dreams of seeing the world. She talked about it endlessly, kept lists of all the places she wanted to go.
As she got older, those dreams didn’t make it out of her notebook.
My best friend didn’t know how to live.
She only knew how to work.
That was why, when her phone rang the morning of the marathon, the number for Mass General showing on the screen, I debated about what I should do. I just wanted my girl to have a little fun, and I’d planned a whole day of it. So, while I listened to that obnoxious ringtone jingling away in my palm, I wondered if I should send the call to voice mail and secretly delete the message. Or if I should run into the bathroom and tell her who was calling. The problem was, Whitney wasn’t like me; she had an impossibly difficult time saying no. She had the biggest heart in this whole world, and her patients meant everything to her. Therefore, I knew, if I gave her the choice, she would go into work.
But I couldn’t be a shit friend who took that decision away from her, who hacked into her phone and deleted messages. I had to give her the option.
So, I went into the bathroom and told her who was calling, and I followed that up with every reason why she shouldn’t answer. I was convincing as hell—I should have been a lawyer, not a teacher, as I knew how to negotiate with the best of them.
By the fourth ring, she’d made up her mind.