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They drove in silence for a while. He took his hand back to steer, and May let out an amused huff.
“What?” he asked.
“I was totally going into old May mode there with the imaginary honey shop, wasn’t I?”
“You totally were.”
“Nice catch, keeping me from backsliding.”
“My pleasure.”
“We’ll take turns, huh? Catching each other?” she asked.
“I hope so. I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
“I think you’re going to be fine.”
“That’s good.”
She met his eyes for a second before he had to look back at the road, and the trust she found there amazed her. So much vulnerability and hope in this man. So much promise for the two of them.
He wasn’t the kind of guy a woman wanted to pin her hopes and dreams on. Not at all.
But that was good, because she wasn’t the kind of woman who wanted to pin her hopes and dreams on a guy.
Not anymore.
She wanted to live every moment, every breath, as if she might not get another one. To choose, again and again, to be the most authentic version of herself.
For a woman like that, Ben was perfect.
“I think we’re going to be great,” she said.
His crooked smile was full of boyish excitement. Happy Ben. Happy all the way through.
He hooked his arm out the window and tapped his fingers against the van door, counting down the miles to New York.
Acknowledgments
This book had many midwives. The first was my agent, Emily Sylvan Kim, who called me up one day and told me, with great excitement, “I figured out what you need to write your series about!” Pulvermacher’s was all Emily’s idea, and everything that came after that owes a debt to her. (Also, she is awesome.)
Random House generously agreed to send me to New York so I could bum around for a few days and do research—an invaluable experience. I particularly want to thank Sue Grimshaw for making it happen and Gina Wachtel for welcoming me to Manhattan with such grace and enthusiasm. I think I floated for two days.
Ben owes a great deal to Mike Hegedus, formerly of Brooklyn, now of New Jersey. Mike was my guide to urban beekeeping and Bedford-Stuyvesant. He generously shared his time, his knowledge, his enthusiasm, his honey, and even a few hours of his adorable youngest daughter’s company. It is possible that he’s the handsomest man I’ve ever had lunch with, which was also nice. For research, you know.
Thanks, too, to Tricia Maxwell for Astoria; Ari for the B&H; Dris for help with Dan (even though I ended up not using a lot of it); In Koo, Avery, and Eden for the ride, the pizza, and the jokes; and Amber Pulvermacher for letting me borrow her last name, which was too good not to use.
When it came time to actually write the book, I leaned heavily on Serena Bell and Mary Ann Rivers, both of whose enthusiasm and wisdom really ought to cost a lot more than it does. Serena rah-rahed me through the first draft and swooned over Ben before anyone else had even met him (except May). Her confidence in what I was doing got me through any number of tough spots. Mary Ann, in turn, helped me understand who Ben was, and in doing so showed me a hundred different ways to make this a better story. She also gave me permission to write sexy pinball and contributed a few (verbal) hip thrusts and forearm moves to the effort.
Amber Lin, Shelley Ann Clark, Charlotte Stein, Emily Sylvan Kim, and Anna Cowan all pushed me to make the book stronger. My editor, Sue Grimshaw, pushed me some more. Dana Isaacson at Random House took out his fine polishing cloth and made the story gleam in line edits. I’m in debt to all of them for their help. Any remaining errors are entirely my fault.
Finally, I’m grateful to my readers for making this possible. When Truly was first serialized on Wattpad, your comments made my day over and over again. Some of you have been with me from the beginning; others are just finding me now. Whoever you are, however you got your hands on this book, whatever it made you feel—thank you for reading. Always.
BY RUTHIE KNOX
Ride with Me
About Last Night
