There is the nightmare version of this book, where Jason finally divorces Daire 20 years from now.
“Yeah, I met my ex when he ran a red light and smashed into my car. He felt guilty, so he lied about finding my apartment keys, and brought me back to his place. Then he determined he knew what was good for me while I still had two black eyes, and he spent a few days making me feel financially dependent, while seducing me subtly. He took advantage of my insecurity and had me move in to his apartment, which I didn’t feel able to escape, and he never introduced me to anyone he knew, except the tattoo artist who he was going to see when he instead hit me after running the red light. Even the tartoo artist, whom he never denied fooling around with, told me that Daire was bad news. Do you know that Daire was fantasizing about sex with that guy when he missed the light? Seriously?!
“He bought me everything I wanted and needed, and convinced me to quit my job, even though I had grown up poor and need to work because I’m scared of not having my own security. Sure, we had incredibly passionate sex, but all that fire in the bedroom didn’t transition into his taking me seriously out of it. And can you believe that he proposed to me in a pantry after I actually talked to someone else at a party where he was ignoring me? I can’t believe I gave him so much of my life.
“Right at the beginning of our relationship, he said this about me:
“In the simplest of terms, [Jason] just wasn’t good at being an adult. He needed someone to take control. Luckily, Jason was right. [I] was bossy. [I] had this. [I] wouldn’t make any more suggestions. From now on, Jason would simply do as told. [I] mentally rubbed [my] hands together.”
“What an asshole. I was poor and young and scared. I was doing my best and it’s not true that I “just wasn’t good at being an adult.” Thank god for my divorce lawyer.”
Yeah, this book is a little off. Also:
* air conditioners don’t work like that.
* no one talks about how “winters in Canada are long”: we describe where we live. If in fact Daire is from Niagara, that has some of the mildest winters in this whole country.
* Seriously, don’t write a book where you find yourself writing this: “Daire couldn’t save everyone, but he could fucking save this one person. Maybe fate had driven his truck into Jason.” No, you asshole, you were daydreaming about the happy ending your tattoo artist was going to give you. Thats not fate.
* oh, and mixers turn cooked potatoes into glue, not mash. Get a ricer, or the hand masher that Jason does use.
Ugh, this book.