Rules for Second Chances by Maggie North EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Maggie North
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Action begins with the disruption of a routine.
—Truth in Comedy
The first minute of my thirtieth birthday party is everything I want it to be.
My mother-in-law’s house spills noise and warmth when I ease open
the front door. Gusts of laughter cast an unexpected glow over the chic, pale
(and frankly sort of sterile) decor, which has always given me the feeling of
sharpened corners lurking everywhere. Tonight, bright GORE-TEX coats
and trail shoes trashed by April mud soften the foyer’s pointiness. Much
nicer.
Though I’m late, I dawdle my way through the jumbled footwear,
seeking a patch of floor to toe off my boots.
This is my favorite part: right before I join in. Before the classic
introvert’s fantasy of effortless conversations lit by the perfect tipsy buzz
turns into the real thing: conversational faux pas that morph into awkward
pauses that tumble me down bottomless crevasses of social death.
Before I remember how I’m always so lonely at these parties.
This time will be dif erent, I tell myself, sliding into my black flats. I’m
thirty, ugh; it’s past time I sorted out my socializing phobias. Besides, I’m
interesting. I have topics of conversation picked out. How hard can it be to
hold a glass of champagne and say something sparkling?
I pull my shoulders out of their self-defensive hunch and practice a
smile that goes up on both sides, like both halves of me are happy to be
here. None of the right-side-up, left-side-down smile that makes people ask
whether I’m joking or serious.
“Liz! I can’t believe you’re late to your own birthday.” My sister,
Amber, sweeps into the foyer to rummage through the outerwear. She looks
beautiful with her streaky blond hair twisted into a pretty, puffy low bun.
“Or maybe I can. Why did you let Tobin throw you a party, anyway? He
should know you don’t like them.”
“I like parties,” I lie. And then, more truthfully, “He asked if I wanted a
party, and I said yes. And I’m late because I got stuck at work.” Combing
through my “ideas” folder in a sweat, pummeling myself into reaching for
the brass ring one last time. “And then Mom called right as I got here to
sing ‘Happy Birthday,’ and insisted on an encore when Dad got on the
phone. Why are you leaving? It’s barely six.”
“Eleanor’s babysitter bailed. I have to pick her up from aftercare and
take her home for dinner.”
“You could bring her here.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Ha. The only person who hates parties more
than you is my kid.”
“I don’t hate parties, Amber!”
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