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368 pages, Paperback
First published January 28, 2025

“Alex. My name is Alex.”
Alex. Something about him seems familiar.
...But I have this feeling about Ophelia. Like she’s all my future Christmases and everything in between.
“Then I’ll love you with the same intensity that you hate me. I’ll hold on to you just as hard as you push me away. I’ll fix you like you’re fixing me. I’ll always be here, Ophelia, I’ll sit at the bottom of valleys and stand on the top of mountains with you."
From: Alex Corbeau-Green
Subject: Punctuality (noun) the fact or quality
of being on time.
Date: Tuesday 1st October 20:04 BST
To: Ophelia Winters
I’m in the library. Look for the charming
gentleman in the black shirt.
-ACG
From: Ophelia Winters
Subject: Patience (noun) the ability to wait, or
to suffer without complaining or becoming annoyed.
Date: Tuesday 1st October 20:05 BST
To: Alex Corbeau-Green
I’m on my way down now. Are you sitting to the
left or the right of the charming gentleman?
Signing your emails with your initials is
obnoxious,
Ophelia
But then I remember my dad cried when I broke my ankle at seven. Cried when I felt lonely at school at ten.... That man would cry if he saw me now, and I know in my heart he’d tell me that no victory is worth it if you lose yourself on the way.
From: Alex Corbeau-Green
Subject: User Error (noun) technical problems caused by the human user
Date: Saturday 11th October 10:03 BST
To: Ophelia Winters
No problem.
It always helps to lift the lid and turn the laptop on.
—ACG
“Sugar. You want to be called sugar.”
“No, not sugar. Something else, like…” I scratch my head. I have no idea. He presses his lips together. “Sugar.”
I shove him out of the way, feeling my cheeks flame. “Not sugar. Honey? No. Not honey. Muffin? No.”
He looks exasperated with me. “Jesus Christ. What’s next? Eggs? Preheat oven to two fifty? Baking soda, I’m home!”
"Can you fix the fact that I don't like you?"
He doesn't call me out on my lie, instead tapping my phone screen beside us to see the time. 4:32 p.m. "Like me until five. Then we can go back to before."
"It's almost six o'clock now. Give me until midnight. For my own sanity, let yourself be loved until midnight."
There's only so much willpower a woman can have. I surrender myself to his stupid plan. "Midnight."
"Midnight, a hundred years from now."
I laugh and shove him off me. "That wasn't in the deal"
"You should always read the fine print, Ophelia."
“Let’s go home,” he whispers.
“Home?”
“Wherever you want, love. It’s home if we’re there.”
“Until midnight.”
“Until midnight, a hundreds years from now.”