It was through a scathing review of One Day—one that praised this book by comparison—that I got curious enough to pick it up. I ended up spending half a day reading it… and I’ll be sticking with One Day.
It’s not that this book lacks potential, nor does it lack endearing characters (especially the main couple). But for me, the execution drained much of the emotion the authors wanted readers to feel.
For example, the narrative format relies on alternating first-person POVs from the two main characters, Fred and Mickey. I’m not usually a fan of first-person narration, but when it’s well used, I can put that personal preference aside very quickly. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case here—due mostly to the structure.
To be clear: each chapter switches the POV between Fred and Mickey… but the chapters are far too long. So once you start itching to hear the other’s side, the current chapter drags on endlessly. Then the POV finally switches… and the same cycle of drawn-out narrative starts again. It’s exhausting.
Another major flaw: the authors’ inability to get us emotionally invested in the love story outside of flashbacks.
Let me explain. Because of the POV switching, we get a lot of flashbacks from Fred and Mickey’s perspectives, helping us understand the reasons for their separation and the long history that connects them from childhood onward—all while building suspense around the mysterious event involving Fred’s father’s death.
The problem?
Fred and Mickey as children? Completely believable.
Fred and Mickey as teenagers? Still very believable.
Fred and Mickey reconnecting at age 30? Well...
You want to believe in it—really—and for a few fleeting moments you do, when the book finally gives them some proper dialogue and depth… and then boom: another flashback.
Or worse, and in my opinion the book’s biggest flaw—the one that ruined this relationship and kept it from delivering the emotional punch that One Day gave me—is its obsession with telling instead of showing. Especially when it comes to their adult interactions, which are almost entirely replaced by poorly disguised exposition masquerading as “introspection.”
The result? No depth, just surface-level reflections. So-called introspection becomes just dry exposition, and the emotional connection never gets a chance to take root.
Which is a real shame, because the potential was absolutely there. But the format completely sanitizes the story and its characters. Instead of sticking to one POV per chapter, the authors should have let the POVs alternate within the scenes themselves. What we get instead is: scene begins, one character narrates it in an overly long internal monologue, then a flashback, then the other character picks up—and instead of giving us their actual perspective, it’s just a redundant recap of the same scene we already read. Add another flashback, and repeat. It quickly becomes tedious and flavorless.
To give you a clear example: Fred and his fiancée get way more screen time and real dialogue than Fred and Mickey as adults—despite the fact that Fred and Mickey are supposed to be soulmates, even after 15 years of separation. That alone speaks volumes about the wasted potential of their relationship.
Honestly, the chemistry is there, but it’s barely used. A few lines of dialogue and—boom—a recap. A little more dialogue after the recap and—boom—onto the next scene. Frustrating!
In conclusion: this book has a severe lack of emotional depth, a poorly executed format, and a love story that exists more in their past than in their present (even though the chemistry is clearly present but never developed). Mickey as a teen (age 15) and her friends come across more like they’re 12—except in the scene involving her almost losing her virginity—and that version doesn’t line up with how her childhood self was portrayed earlier. Overall, the book left me with a lingering sense of something unfinished. Really disappointing.