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My Review
The book really allowed me to immerse myself in both protagonists and understand why they are the way they are and why they act the way they do. Despite this understanding, I sometimes wanted to shake the two protagonists so they would finally say what they were truly thinking and feeling. I think this actually makes the words of the book feel even more realistic. It was a very nice read for me. For my personal taste, it could have been a little less spicy. At first, I was very skeptical because of the second-chance romance. After reading the book, I understand why it was a good second chance. Bright called off the wedding, and Lola also contributed to what happened back then. I also understand that they never stopped loving each other. They worked on their issues and went to therapy to avoid falling into the same behavioral patterns again. The fact that they are now making a fresh start, one where both of their needs are taken into account, feels like a great message and a happy ending. Das Buch hat es mir sehr gut ermöglicht, mich in beide Protagonistinnen hineinzuversetzen und zu verstehen, warum sie so sind und handeln. Trotz dieses Verständnisses wollte ich die beiden Protagonistinnen manchmal schütteln, damit sie sagen, was sie wirklich denken und fühlen. Dies macht denke ich, die Worte des Buches noch realistischer. Es las sich für mich sehr flüssig. Für meinen persönlichen Geschmack hätte es auch etwas weniger spicy sein können. Ich war am Anfang wegen der Second-Chance-Romance sehr skeptisch. Nach dem Lesen des Buches verstehe ich, warum es eine gute Second-Chance war. Bright hat die Hochzeit platzen lassen und Lola auch dazu beigetragen, dass es damals dazu kam. Ich verstehe auch, dass sie nie aufgehört haben, sich zu lieben. Sie haben an ihren Problemen gearbeitet und waren in Therapie, um nicht wieder in die gleichen Verhaltensmuster zu verfallen. Dass sie nun einen Neuanfang machen, bei dem die Bedürfnisse der beiden berücksichtigt werden, finde ich ein tolles Signal und Happy End.
Highlights & Quotes
(13)From a young age, Charlotte had always had the sense she was in the way.
“And I quote,” Sloane said, taking her phone out of her back pocket, then tapping at the screen, “ ‘If anyone knows any single queer darlings, ages twenty-five to thirty-five, please do let me know.’ End quote.” “I mean, I’m a fan of queer darlings,” Manish said. “Same,” Elle said. “Exactly,” Nina said. “I’m just putting out some friendly social feelers for you all while you’re here. Want you to feel, you know, seen.” “Seen,” Adele said, her voice deadpan. “Mom, you’re the only cishet person in this house. I think we’re good.”
“Hey, Mom,” Adele said, clearing her throat and squeezing Brighton’s leg under the table. “Did you know Noni hasn’t been on a date in three years?” Sloane’s mouth dropped open. “You rat fink!” “Three years? Really, Sloane?” Nina asked. “Well, Deli eats women out on top of her bar after hours,” Sloane said. “Talk about a health code violation.” “That was once!” Adele said. “Told to you in confidence! And I cleaned it…you know…after.” “I think this conversation is the definition of TMI,” Nina said, sipping her wine.
She was a grown-up, dammit, complete with a dead-end dream and a lackluster love life.
Brighton relaxed a little at the word wife, just like she always did when in the company of other queer people. She could be undergoing a root canal, and as long as the dentist was queer, she was bound to be at least 50 percent calmer, the feeling of safety and camaraderie like a mild muscle relaxer.
“Some might say the stuff meet-cutes are made of.”
maybe not ifone broke the others heart
Wes rolled his eyes. “I gather subtlety is not your strong suit.” “You gather right.”
“Boobs,” Charlotte said, drawing out the o’s. Brighton laughed. “Boobs.” “They’re nice.” “That, they are.” Charlotte sighed. “I think I’m drunk.” “Oh, I don’t know, seems to me like you’re behaving pretty normally.”
When one had an indifferent mother as their only parent, self-soothing was a priceless skill, a matter of survival, even. She’d learned at a very young age how to take care of herself, control her emotions, and wear expressions that fit the situation so no one asked questions or suspected she wasn’t okay.
Speaking of headaches, Charlotte and Brighton are strangely silent. Are they dead? Or making out? I’m taking bets
But she could love so many places. She could love so much more than work. She could love so many more people than just herself. And what was more, she wanted to. God, she was so fucking tired of herself, of always and only keeping her own company, of swallowing feelings and fears and convincing herself that by doing so she was strong. She wasn’t strong. She was a fucking coward. With Brighton. With Sloane. With her mother, even. Desperate for love but convinced no one would ever fully give it, an insecurity that had only magnified after Brighton left her. Still, she knew it wasn’t Brighton’s fault—or not just her fault, at least. Brighton had wanted to make Charlotte happy by staying in New York. She’d always wanted to make Charlotte happy, and Charlotte had let her, over and over again, let her soothe Charlotte, let her make Charlotte feel secure, feel stable, feel loved, to the detriment of her own needs. Charlotte braced her hands on the cool quartz sink, closed her eyes, and breathed, her forehead breaking out in a sweat. Because she missed Brighton. Fuck, she missed her so much.
“And it says you probably need a really good therapist,” Sloane added. Charlotte laughed through her tears. “Oh, there’s no probably about it. Another thing I’ve been terrified to try.”
“Everyone needs a therapist,” Sloane said, squeezing her hands. “Literally everyone. And I’ll help you find one when we get back to New York.”