every love story has a beginning…
11th September 2001. Lucy and Gabe meet in New York on a day that will change their lives – and the world – forever. As the city burns behind them, they kiss for the very first time.
Over the next thirteen years they are torn apart, then brought back together, time and time again. It’s a journey of dreams, of desires, of jealousy, of forgiveness – and above all, love.
As Lucy is faced with a devastating choice, she wonders whether their love is a matter of destiny or chance.
…what if this is how their story ends?
JILL SANTOPOLOreceived a BA in English Literature from Columbia University and an MFA in writing from the Vermont College of Fine Arts. She’s the author of three successful children’s and young-adult series and works as the editorial director of Philomel Books, an imprint of Penguin Young Readers group. An adjunct professor in The New School’s MFA program, Jill travels the world to speak about writing and storytelling. She lives in New York City.
Twitter: @JillSantopolo
Facebook: JillSantopoloAuthor
www.jillsantopolo.com
Author Photo Credit: Charles Grantham
For New York City
Contents
Cover
Introduction every love story has a beginning… 11th September 2001. Lucy and Gabe meet in New York on a day that will change their lives – and the world – forever. As the city burns behind them, they kiss for the very first time. Over the next thirteen years they are torn apart, then brought back together, time and time again. It’s a journey of dreams, of desires, of jealousy, of forgiveness – and above all, love. As Lucy is faced with a devastating choice, she wonders whether their love is a matter of destiny or chance. …what if this is how their story ends?
About the Author JILL SANTOPOLO received a BA in English Literature from Columbia University and an MFA in writing from the Vermont College of Fine Arts. She’s the author of three successful children’s and young-adult series and works as the editorial director of Philomel Books, an imprint of Penguin Young Readers group. An adjunct professor in The New School’s MFA program, Jill travels the world to speak about writing and storytelling. She lives in New York City. Twitter: @JillSantopolo Facebook: JillSantopoloAuthor www.jillsantopolo.com Author Photo Credit: Charles Grantham
Title Page
Dedication For New York City
Prologue prologue WE’VE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR ALMOST HALF OUR lives. I’ve seen you smiling, confident, blissfully happy. I’ve seen you broken, wounded, lost. But I’ve never seen you like this. You taught me to look for beauty. In darkness, in destruction, you always found light. I don’t know what beauty I’ll find here, what light. But I’ll try. I’ll do it for you. Because I know you would do it for me. There was so much beauty in our life together. Maybe that’s where I should start.
Chapter i
Chapter ii
Chapter iii
Chapter iv
Chapter v
Chapter vi
Chapter vii
Chapter viii
Chapter ix
Chapter x
Chapter xi
Chapter xii
Chapter xiii
Chapter xiv
Chapter xv
Chapter xvi
Chapter xvii
Chapter xviii
Chapter xix
Chapter xx
Chapter xxi
Chapter xxii
Chapter xxiii
Chapter xxiv
Chapter xxv
Chapter xxvi
Chapter xxvii
Chapter xxviii
Chapter xxix
Chapter xxx
Chapter xxxi
Chapter xxxii
Chapter xxxiii
Chapter xxxiv
Chapter xxxv
Chapter xxxvi
Chapter xxxvii
Chapter xxxviii
Chapter xxxix
Chapter xl
Chapter xli
Chapter xlii
Chapter xliii
Chapter xliv
Chapter xlv
Chapter xlvi
Chapter xlvii
Chapter xlviii
Chapter xlix
Chapter l
Chapter li
Chapter lii
Chapter liii
Chapter liv
Chapter lv
Chapter lvi
Chapter lvii
Chapter lviii
Chapter lix
Chapter lx
Chapter lxi
Chapter lxii
Chapter lxiii
Chapter lxiv
Chapter lxv
Chapter lxvi
Chapter lxvii
Chapter lxviii
Chapter lxix
Chapter lxx
Chapter lxxi
Chapter lxxii
Chapter lxxiii
Chapter lxxiv
Chapter lxxv
Chapter lxxvi
Chapter lxxvii
Chapter lxxviii
Chapter lxxix
Chapter lxxx
Acknowledgements
Lucy and Gabe’s Reading List
Copyright
prologue
WE’VE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR ALMOST HALF OUR lives.
I’ve seen you smiling, confident, blissfully happy.
I’ve seen you broken, wounded, lost.
But I’ve never seen you like this.
You taught me to look for beauty. In darkness, in destruction, you always found light.
I don’t know what beauty I’ll find here, what light. But I’ll try. I’ll do it for you. Because I know you would do it for me.
There was so much beauty in our life together.
Maybe that’s where I should start.
i
SOMETIMES OBJECTS SEEM LIKE THEY’VE WITNESSED history. I used to imagine that the wooden table we sat around during Kramer’s Shakespeare seminar our senior year was as old as Columbia—that it had been in that room since 1754, edges worn smooth by centuries of students like us, which of course couldn’t be true. But that’s how I pictured it. Students sitting there through the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, both World Wars, Korea, Vietnam, the Persian Gulf.
It’s funny, if you asked me who else was with us that day, I don’t think I could tell you. I used to be able to see all their faces so clearly, but thirteen years later I remember only you and Professor Kramer. I can’t even recall the name of the TA who came running, late, into the classroom. Later, even, than you.
Kramer had just finished calling roll when you pushed open the door. You smiled at me, your dimple making a brief appearance as you slipped off your Diamondbacks cap and stuck it into your back pocket. Your eyes landed quickly on the empty seat next to mine, and then you did too.
“And you are?” Kramer asked, as you reached into your backpack for a notebook and a pen.
“Gabe,” you said. “Gabriel Samson.”
Kramer checked the paper in front of him. “Let’s aim for ‘on time’ for the rest of the semester, Mr. Samson,” he said. “Class starts at nine. In fact, let’s aim for ‘early.’”
You nodded, and Kramer started talking about themes in Julius Caesar .
“‘We at the height are ready to decline,’” he read. “‘There is a tide in the affairs of men / Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; / Omitted, all the voyage of their life / Is bound in shallows and in miseries. / On such a full sea are we now afloat, / And we must take the current when it serves, / Or lose our ventures.’ I trust you all did the reading. Who can tell me what Brutus is saying about fate and free will here?”
I’ll always remember that passage because I’ve wondered so many times since that day whether you and I were fated to meet in Kramer’s Shakespeare seminar. Whether it’s destiny or decision that has kept us connected all these years. Or a combination of both, taking the current when it serves.
After Kramer spoke, a few people flipped through the text in front of them. You ran your fingers through your curls, and they sprang back into place.
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