Before Ever After Read Online Free PDF Page B

the chance. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her mother—she just couldn’t bear to listen to the echo inside her chest. Nothing was lonelier than the limping beat of half a heart.
    A blast of Italian expletives knocked Shelley to the present. A young couple was manhandling a map of the London Underground a few steps below her on the escalator. She considered helping them but changed her mind.
Gelato al cioccolato
was the full extent of her Italian vocabulary and would not be of much use in getting them to their destination unless they wanted ice cream. The woman grunted, snatched the map, and threw it in the air. It flapped against Shelley’s face. The man hollered an apology Shelley’s way and chased after his companion.
    Shelley pulled off the map, relieved to be irritated at someone other than herself. She scanned the map of multicolored lines, envying the order of preordained stops. She wished that making her way through life was as simple as tracing a thick blue line from Piccadilly station to a reasonable mortgage, a car, and a medium-size non-shedding dog and/or cat. Sensible. Straightforward. Allergen-free. The route itself wasn’t complicated, she admitted, except for her habit of jumping off trains. Shecradled her fern and remembered why it was in her arms. She had leaped off another one. She had not followed her list. Again.
    Sit. Grin. Bear it. Damn
.
    Advertising had been slightly tolerable while it lasted. And so was her fleeting stint at a golfing magazine before it. At the very least, these jobs had paid the bills. Shelley groaned into her plant. If only eating dark chocolate and running away were financially viable life skills.
    She had become quite adept at the art of escape, and not just from jobs that required her to write about soy milk or golf balls. Since moving to London a year earlier, she had developed a talent for making a clean getaway from men who got too close. The last one was named Roger. Shelley had promised herself that she would never end up like her mom, and dumping men just before things became too serious seemed like a reasonable strategy. It followed the same principle as pushing away a dessert after a few bites. Guys like Roger were fun rides that were easy to hop off of miles before she was in any danger of having her heart split in two.
    Meet. Date. Run. Check. Check. Check
.
    (Shelley kept copies of this particular list in her pocket. She had always found accents particularly sexy, and in London there were many opportunities to get distracted.)
    Shelley reached the bottom of the escalator. The Italian couple was kissing by a vending machine. She rolled her eyes and made her way to the edge of the platform. Paper rustled against her foot.
    A yellow leaflet clung to her heel. Shelley tried to pry it free, stretching the pink tentacles that glued it to her shoe. The top half of the paper tore off. She teetered near the platform gap, hopping on one foot and trying to regain her balance without dropping her plant.
    FANCY GETTING LOST?
The words leaped from the tattered page in Shelley’s hand.
    The wind whipped in the tunnel. Her train was approaching. She pulled off the rest of the leaflet just as the train came to a stop. She stuffed it into her handbag and read it on her way home.
    THE SLIGHT DETOUR
    Veer away from the expected and lose yourself in the back roads of history on a road trip across Europe. Not for the prissy or the daft. Nutters most welcome. Good fun and excellent egg breakfasts included.
    It was exactly what she needed—the chance to postpone reality. The fact that the tour was leaving the very next morning was even better. She needed to get out of London as fast as humanly possible. She dialed the number listed on the yellow paper. The phone rang six times.
    “Hello! The Slight Detour Company.” The man at the end of the line caught his breath. “Max Gallus here. Sorry to keep you waiting. Was chasing after some chickens. How may I help you?”
    “Er, hi.