Taylor Jenkins Reid - After I Do

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Praise for Forever, Interrupted

Touching and powerful...Reid masterfully grabs hold of the heartstrings and doesnt let go. A stunning first novel.

Publishers Weekly, starred review

Youll laugh, weep, and fly through each crazy-readable page.

Redbook

A moving novel about life and death.

Kirkus

A poignant and heartfelt exploration of love and commitment in the absence of shared time that asks, what does it take to be the love of someones life?

Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus, #1 New York Times bestselling authors

Moving, gorgeous, and at times heart-wrenching.

Sarah Jio, New York Times bestselling author

Sweet, heartfelt, and surprising. These characters made me laugh as well as cry, and I ended up falling in love with them, too.

Sarah Pekkanen, internationally bestselling author of The Opposite of Me

This beautifully rendered story explores the brilliance and rarity of finding true love, and how we find our way back through the painful aftermath of losing it. These characters will leap right off the page and into your heart.

Amy Hatvany, author of Safe with Me

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To Mindy Jenkins and Jake Jenkins

(May this serve as the final word that I have the best feet in the family.)

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flagrant , adj

I would be standing right there, and you would walk out of the bathroom without putting the cap back on the toothpaste.

The Lovers Dictionary

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part one

WHERE DOES THE GOOD GO?

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W e are in the parking lot of Dodger Stadium, and once again, Ryan has forgotten where we left the car. I keep telling him that its in Lot C, but he doesnt believe me.

No, he says, for the tenth time. I specifically remember turning right when we got here, not left.

Its incredibly dark, the path in front of us lit only by lampposts featuring oversized baseballs. I looked at the sign when we parked.

You remember wrong, I say, my tone clipped and pissed-off. Weve already been here too long, and I hate the chaos of Dodger Stadium. Its a warm summer night, so I have that to be thankful for, but its ten P.M., and the rest of the fans are pouring out of the stands, the two of us fighting through a sea of blue and white jerseys. Weve been at this for about twenty minutes.

I dont remember wrong, he says, walking ahead and not even bothering to look back at me as he speaks. Youre the one with the bad memory.

Oh, I see, I say, mocking him. Just because I lost my keys this morning, suddenly, Im an idiot?

He turns and looks at me; I use the moment to try to catch up to him. The parking lot is hilly and steep. Im slow.

Yeah, Lauren, thats exactly what I said. I said you were an idiot.

I mean, you basically did. You said that you know what youre talking about, like I dont.

Just help me find the goddamn car so we can go home.

I dont respond. I simply follow him as he moves farther and farther away from Lot C. Why he wants to go home is a mystery to me. None of this will be any better at home. It hasnt been for months.

He walks around in a long, wide circle, going up and down the hills of the Dodger Stadium parking lot. I follow close behind, waiting with him at the crosswalks, crossing at his pace. We dont say anything. I think of how much I want to scream at him. I think of how I wanted to scream at him last night, too. I think of how much Ill probably want to scream at him tomorrow. I can only imagine hes thinking much of the same. And yet the air between us is perfectly still, uninterrupted by any of our thoughts. So often lately, our nights and weekends are full of tension, a tension that is only relieved by saying good-bye or good night.

After the initial rush of people leaving the parking lot, it becomes a lot easier to see where we are and where we parked.

There it is, Ryan says, not bothering to point for further edification. I turn my head to follow his gaze. There it is. Our small black Honda.

Right in Lot C.

I smile at him. Its not a kind smile.

He smiles back. His isnt kind, either.

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ELEVEN AND A HALF YEARS AGO

I t was the middle of my sophomore year of college. My freshman year had been a lonely one. UCLA was not as inviting as Id thought it might be when I applied. It was hard for me to meet people. I went home a lot on weekends to see my family. Well, really, I went home to see my younger sister, Rachel. My mom and my little brother, Charlie, were secondary. Rachel was the person I told everything to. Rachel was the one I missed when I ate alone in the dining hall, and I ate alone in the dining hall more than I cared to admit.

At the age of nineteen, I was much shier than Id been at seventeen, graduating from high school toward the top of my class, my hand cramping from signing so many yearbooks. My mom kept asking me all through my freshman year of college if I wanted to transfer. She kept saying that it was OK to look someplace else, but I didnt want to. I liked my classes. I just havent found my stride yet, I said to her every time she asked. But I will. Ill find it.

I started to find it when I took a job in the mailroom. Most nights, it was one or two other people and me, a dynamic in which I thrived. I was good in small groups. I could shine when I didnt have to struggle to be heard. And after a few months of shifts in the mailroom, I was getting to know a lot of people. Some of them I really liked. And some of those people really liked me, too. By the time we broke for Christmas that year, I was excited to go back in January. I missed my friends.

When classes began again, I found myself with a new schedule that put me in a few buildings Id never been in before. I was starting to take psychology classes since Id fulfilled most of my gen eds. And with this new schedule, I started running into the same guy everywhere I went. The fitness center, the bookstore, the elevators of Franz Hall.

He was tall and broad-shouldered. He had strong arms, round around the biceps, barely fitting into the sleeves of his shirts. His hair was light brown, his face often marked with stubble. He was always smiling, always talking to someone. Even when I saw him walking alone, he seemed to have the confidence of a person with a mission.

I was in line to enter the dining hall when we finally spoke. I was wearing the same gray shirt Id worn the day before, and it occurred to me as I spotted him a bit farther up in the line that he might notice.

After he swiped his ID to get in, he hung back behind his friends and carried on a conversation with the guy running the card machine. When I got up to the front of the line, he stopped his conversation and looked at me.

Are you following me or what? he said, looking right into my eyes and smiling.

I was immediately embarrassed, and I thought he could see it.

Sorry, stupid joke, he said. Ive just been seeing you everywhere lately. I took my card back. Can I walk with you?

Yeah, I said. I was meeting my mailroom friends, but I didnt see them there yet anyway. And he was cute. That was a lot of what swayed me. He was cute.

Where are we going? he asked me. What line?