After You (Me Before You, #2)

by Jojo Moyes

There is a peculiar sort of silence, it turns out, when you tell a room full of people who think they know everything there is to know about the death of a loved one that they don’t.

You’re going to feel uncomfortable in your new world for a bit. It always does feel strange to be knocked out of your comfort zone . . . There is a hunger in you, Clark. A fearlessness. You just buried it, like most people do. Just live well. Just live. I read the words of a man who had once believed in me, and I put my head on my knees and finally I sobbed.

He slid slowly under the water so that only his mouth remained on the surface. It broke into a slow smile. “But you’d get to keep the pixie outfit, yes?” I felt the mood shift. And, for no reason at all other than that he didn’t expect it, I climbed fully clothed into the bath and kissed him as he laughed and spluttered, suddenly glad of his solidity in a world where it was so easy to fall.

I pressed send and stared at the little screen just as the doorbell rang. “Hey.” He filled my doorway, holding a toolbox in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other. “Oh, my God,” I said. “You’re like the ultimate female fantasy.” “Shelves,” he said, deadpan. “You need shelves.” “Oh, baby. Keep talking.” “And home-cooked food.” “That’s it. I just came.” He laughed and dropped the tools in the hallway and kissed me and when we finally untangled ourselves, he walked through to the kitchen.