After You (Me Before You, #2)

by Jojo Moyes

Without someone to talk to, every sight I saw—whether it was the Trevi Fountain or a canal in Amsterdam—felt simply like a name on a list that I needed to check off.

“I’m not sure happiness is a matter of what you deserve.”

On evenings like this, when the streets below were filled with couples strolling, and laughing people spilled out of pubs, already planning meals, nights out, trips to clubs, something ached inside me, something primal telling me that I was in the wrong place, that I was missing something. These were the moments when I felt most left behind.

had never just sat with my mother and sister, like normal, grown-up people, having grown-up conversations that didn’t involve putting anything away or somebody being so annoying. But we found ourselves surprisingly interested in each other’s lives and opinions, as if we had suddenly realized that each of us might have roles beyond the brainy one, the chaotic one, and the one who does all the housework. It was an odd sensation, having to view my family as human beings.

“I’ve been reading about all these women—these brave souls who made such a difference in the world to the way people think and do things. And I look at what I’ve done and wonder whether, well, whether anyone would notice a jot if I wasn’t here.”

There is a hunger in you, Clark. A fearlessness. You just buried it, like most people do. Just live well. Just live.

“Far easier for you to just stick with that depressing little job and complain about it. Far easier for you to sit tight and not take a risk and make out that everything that happens to you is something you couldn’t help.”

“Do you know how stifling it is to be told you are never going to be able to change? For the rest of your life? Because nobody else wants you to? Do you know how awful it is to feel stuck?”

we laughed awkwardly, in the way British people do when they are experiencing great emotion. In the meeting Jake spoke unusually volubly,