Brief Summary

Abby Stafford, a rookie writer for an architectural magazine, believes she has everything she’s ever wanted. When she stops by her parents’ beautiful Victorian home to tell them of her engagement to Michael Thiesan, she makes a grisly discovery. Her father, Erik Stafford, an esteemed and prominent lawyer, is hanging in the attic. His mysterious suicide and her mother’s unexplained absence catapults Abby’s life into chaos. The traumatic event not only leaves her temporarily colorblind, a transient condition that haunts her for months to come, but also unlocks devastating childhood memories.

The story flashes back to Abby’s childhood. We see her as a feisty girl who befriends a boy named Eli. Abby and Eli, inseparable soul mates, form an alliance against her alcoholic and remote father and survive the rocky terrain of childhood together. On the cusp of adulthood, they become lovers, but Abby destroys their relationship with one reckless action.

In the present, Abby struggles to make sense of the baffling circumstances surrounding her father’s death. When Eli unexpectedly resurfaces in Abby’s life, her imminent marriage is in jeopardy. All of her personal relationships threaten to crumble after she learns the truth behind her father’s suicide and discovers that she’s been betrayed by those she loves most.

Excerpt From Book

Then that night, when we were inside our tents, blankets piled on top of us and drifting to sleep, I finally realized why I didn’t want to say anything. I realized I was jealous. It wasn’t a pleasant epiphany. It made me uneasy and shaky. Nauseous even. This had never happened before. It was then I recognized that our relationship was changing, and that as we grew older it would constantly have to be redefined. Others would come into play and try to fit into the equation of you and me. Some would even come between us. Eventually, it would happen.

I looked over at you, desperate to wake you and talk about this and yet glad you were sleeping so I didn’t have to say anything. While you slept soundly, I leaned over you, with my hands braced on either side of your shoulders and my face inches from yours. I breathed in your warm breath until my lungs were filled with it. I admired your long eyelashes and how they nearly touched the top of your cheeks. I studied your perfectly bow-shaped mouth. My affection for you suddenly overwhelmed me. Lowering my face closer to yours, I gently kissed you. I lingered there, not really moving, just softly holding my lips to yours, feeling their warmth against mine. When you stirred, I pulled away.

Did I love you in that moment? I did. I’ve always loved you. I remember wanting to bottle that moment between us. It was the point where our childhood had finally ended and our future had not yet begun. We were exactly in the middle, in this thin and delicate limbo that felt dangerous and exhilarating. I didn’t want it to end because I felt so safe, zipped up and snug in our sleeping bags. The small dome shaped tent was our time machine, and all the years we had already shared were safely confined inside with us. And the future was on the outside. When we opened our time machine, it would begin, and there would be no way to return.