What do you think?
Rate this book
358 pages, Paperback
First published January 12, 2021
”We can’t possible hope to always live ‘happily’. But ‘ever after’? That we can hope for and choose. Because ‘ever after’ isn’t an idea. It’s a person—an imperfect person who’s perfect for you.” Her eyes search mine as she gives me one soft, tender kiss.
“You’re that person, for me. You’re my ever after.”
How do you fix something when you don’t even know what’s broken?
“You’re my ever after.”
I’ve learned that the measure of your love isn’t how “okay” you both are or how quickly you hit the curveball that life throws at you. Love’s true test, the measure of its strength, is its bravery to be honest, its willingness to face the hardest moments and say, Even though there’s nothing to be done, at least i have you.
Somewhere along the way, you forgot the day you became Freya’s, you became ours, too
“How have you never groveled?” “Because before Freya, no one was worth groveling for,” I mumble.
😭✨ please hold for intense sobbing due to my eternally single status 😭✨
✨🧘♀️clearly i need to limber up and start doing Yoga✨🧘♀️
Six months of slow, silent decline. It wasn’t one big, awful argument. It was a thousand quiet moments that added up until I realized I didn’t recognize him or us or, shit, even me.
“I know you said you’re not sure if this can be fixed, Freya,” Aiden says quietly. “But I’m here to tell you I will do everything I can to make it right. I promise you that.”
“Why are we dancing?” she asks. I press a kiss to her temple. “Because you love to dance, and I love to hold you.”
All I’ve wanted since the day I married you… I’ve just wanted to give you your happily ever after.”
“We can’t possibly hope to always live ‘happily.’ But ‘ever after’? That we can hope for and choose. Because ‘ever after’ isn’t an idea. It’s a person—an imperfect person who’s perfect for you.” Her eyes search mine as she gives me one soft, tender kiss. “You’re that person, for me. You’re my ever after.”
Viggo pins me with his sharp stare. “Somewhere along the way, you forgot the day you became Freya’s, you became ours, too.”
“Angel investors,” Oliver says brightly, handing me the envelope that Aiden held loosely in his hand. “Meaning the Bergman brothers now have a vested interest in our brother’s work. God help you, Aiden.”
"[. . .] Marriage is messier and much more complicated than anyone warned us. You can want to rip off his nuts and miss him so bad, it feels like you can’t breathe.”
Aiden’s eyes hold mine as he strums and plays from memory. And when he hits the chorus, singing a promise that nothing will stop him from finding the woman he loves, I feel the earth tip beneath me.
“It’s called grand gesturing. And groveling.” A surprised laugh jumps out of me. “What?” “Music speaks to you, Freya. It makes you feel. And it’s something we used to share, a way we connected. I wanted…I wanted to show you what you mean to me. I wanted you to feel that again.”
“I think there’s something wrong with me. I’m so pissed at him that I’ve fantasized about sticking chocolate pudding in his business shoes [. . .] He’d think it’s cat shit. Pickles gets diarrhea when she eats my houseplants.”
If I wear something that no one would think twice about a skinny person wearing, it automatically makes me a body-positivity warrior, instead of just a woman wearing what she damn well pleases.
“But I never wanted the world, Aiden. I just wanted you.”
It took me a long time—and lots of therapy hours—to accept that my anxiety makes life harder, but it doesn’t make me wrong or damaged or…well, anything bad. It just…is.
“About that word, fair…the idea of ‘fair’ in a marriage, any relationship, I mean it’s impossible. No marriage is fair. It’s complementary. The idea of ‘fair’ is absurd at best, ableist at worst.”
💫 ”At some point, every love is a tragedy. It just doesn’t have to stay that way. We choose our endings. That’s Aristotle’s point. Tragedy is built—it has a structure. And if that’s not the ending you want, then you get out of that trajectory. You change the narrative.”
”Ah.” Dr. Dietrich lifts her hand. “About that word, fair…the idea of ‘fair’ in a marriage, any relationship, I mean it’s impossible. No marriage is fair. It’s complementary. The idea of ‘fair’ is absurd at best, ableist at worst.
Because saying a relationship has to be ‘fair’ implies only a certain balance and distribution of skills and aptitudes is valid. It upholds an arbitrary, damaging idea of ‘normal’ or ‘standard’ as requisite for fulfilling partnership. When in reality, all you need is two people who love what the other brings and share the work of love and life together.”
I turn and face them. “I’m not your brother. Don’t you want to do this stuff, you know…without me?”
They all fold their arms across their chests and tip their heads the same direction. It’s beyond weird. And also…shit, it’s kind of endearing.
“So that right there,” Oliver says, “is exactly why we need today.”
Viggo pins me with his sharp stare. “Somewhere along the way, you forgot the day you became Freya’s, you became ours, too.”
Ah, man. My eyes blur with tears.