The Summer Place

by Jennifer Weiner

“I need to tell you something,” Eli had said, years ago when they’d first started dating. They’d been in a restaurant, and he’d reached across the table to take her hands. Sarah looked at his serious expression and felt a prickle of unease. Had something bad happened to a patient? Was he sick? Or was he going to tell her that Annette had come back, that he had to give his ex-wife another chance, that Ruby deserved her real mother? She swallowed hard. Eli was already so dear to her, with his high forehead, his curly hair, and his sweet smile. Eli was wonderful, and dating was awful. There’d been guys she’d liked who’d never called, guys she hadn’t liked who had called (and called and called, and then had showed up at her apartment or her office, refusing to take no for an answer). And, of course, there’d been her first boyfriend, who’d broken her heart so completely that it had taken her a full year before she’d allowed another boy to even hold her hand. She sat back, bracing herself. And then Eli had gravely announced, “I have plantar fasciitis.”