Bloggers: Without you, our books would never get seen. Thank you for taking the time to read and review, promote tirelessly, and for all your love and support.
Stabby Birds: You girls are my rocks. I couldn’t imagine a place without each of you.
Corinne Michaels Book Group: You guys are so much fun. Thank you for loving me and all my crazy. You truly make me smile each day I come in to check on the group. The words of encouragement and friendship overwhelm me each day.
My test readers: Thank you for dropping whatever you are reading to let me know how you feel. You can’t imagine how much I appreciate you.
A huge thank you to my editor, formatter, proofreader, and cover designer for making this book all that it is.
Thank you, The Rockstars of Romance, for hosting everything for Consolation. I love you girl so much!
Lauren Perry: Ahhhh thank you for finding Ben and Hannah! Your photos are the reason this book isn’t a standalone. Your art inspired me to make this story so much more than I planned. Thank you!
Rinny, Melanie, Krissy: We’ve been friends since we were babies it seems like. We’ve had bad boyfriends, weddings, love, hate, friendship, sisterhood, and babies. Through it all, we’ve kept our friendship strong and it doesn’t matter that we go months without uttering a word. If I called tomorrow, I know you’d be here. It’s a friendship many will never be fortunate to experience. I love you so much.
Crystal: Even when we bring out the most hostile parts of each other, we are able to find our friendship. I think it’s something special and unique that, no matter how ugly it gets, we see the beauty. Thank you for loaning me your husband to kill off. It was fun and we should totalllllly do it again!
Lucia Franco: Without your convo this book would’ve never happened. Thank you for cheering me on and being as excited as I was.
Tammi Ahmed: You are a graphic queen! Thank you for making me such beautiful art! I love every creation you come up with.
My children: You two have no idea the depths of my love for you. Thank you for my great big hugs, my fun snuggles, and making me remember there’s more to life than books. You are my world.
My husband: I met you when I wasn’t sure who I was. You loved me and helped me become the woman I am today. I may want to smack you but there’s no one else I’d rather build snowmen with.
The first boy I fell in love with used to regale me with stories about kings and queens and war and peace, and how he hoped to one day be somebody’s knight in shining armor. I lived vicariously through his late night adventures, watching the way he swung his hands animatedly as he told his stories, and loving the way his green eyes twinkled when I laughed at his jokes.
He taught me what it feels like to be touched and thoroughly kissed. Later, he taught me the pain one feels at the loss of someone that you’ve grown attached to. The one thing he forgot to teach me was how to deal with the way my chest squeezed after he broke the ghost of what heart I had left. I’d always wondered if it had been a missed lesson. Now I wonder if maybe he’d been trying to figure it out for himself, or if he just never felt anything at all.
They say the best way to move on is to let go. As if letting go is the easy part. As if trying to dim or erase three years of memories, good and bad, is something you can do in one day. I know it’s not, because in a couple of weeks, it will be one year, and the memory of him is as potent as if he was still here. His San Francisco Giants sandals are still in front of the sink, right where he left them. The smell of him lingers on some of his shirts—the ones I still haven’t gotten around to wearing to bed. His presence is powerful even in his absence. As I walk around the house making sure everything is out of sight, I know that for me, this is a huge step in the letting go process.
I’m in the kitchen taping up the last of the boxes, when I hear the jingle of keys followed by heels on the hardwood. Another sound I’ll miss, I’m sure, once I leave this place.
“Estelle?” she calls out in a soft melodic voice.
“Kitchen!” I wipe my hands over my jeans and make my way over to her.