The Opposite of Maybe
Barnes & Noble
Title: The Opposite of Maybe
Published by: Broadway Books
Release Date: April 8, 2014
Jonathan and Rosie have been together so long they finish each other’s sentences—so when he (finally) proposes and asks her to move across country with him to open a museum for teacups, everyone is happily surprised. But when things suddenly unravel, Rosie sends Jonathan packing and moves back home temporarily with Soapie, the irascible, opinionated grandmother who raised her after Rosie’s mother’s untimely death. All she has to do is figure out how to fire Soapie’s very unsuitable caregiver, a gardener named Tony who lets her drink martinis, smoke and cheat at Scrabble.
Rosie is relatively sure she’ll work things out with Jonathan, even though he’s obsessed with his teacups, and has no time or attention for her. But when realizes her goodbye evening with Jonathan has resulted in an accidental pregnancy at age forty-four, she realizes she has to rethink her entire life. Not only is she unequipped for motherhood, she’s furious with Jonathan, and she may be falling in love with Tony, whose life may be even more muddled than hers is. When she finds out the truth about her mother’s death, Rosie comes face to face with a reality she’s been running from: sometimes the messy life we’ve got is enough.
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“Dawson’s charmingly eccentric cast of characters is at turns lovable and infuriating, ensuring a quick read helmed by a memorable, complex heroine.”
— Publishers Weekly
“Delightfully witty… a messy, funny, surprising story of second chances.”
— Kirkus Reviews
“At turns poignant and funny, this book is brimming with charm.”
—Sarah Pekkanen, internationally bestselling author of The Best of Us and The Opposite of Me
“Dawson’s lyrical, realistic portrayal of a modern-day relationship and all its complexities is rich with humor and insight.”
— Kristan Higgins, New York Times bestselling author of The Perfect Match and Waiting on You
“A quirky, warm, insightful, feel-good confection of a novel.”
—Jane Green, New York Times bestselling author of The Beach House and Tempting Fate
They’re making love on Saturday morning—almost finished, but not quite close enough to the finish line to really and truly count—when the phone starts its earsplitting chirping right by their heads.
Jonathan, who had been lying on top of her, with his face contorted in what she was sure was ecstasy, groaning, “Rosie, Rosie, Rosie…” now comes instantly to a halt. His eyes dart to the telephone on the floor next to their mattress, and she says, “Ohhh, no, you don’t,” and they both start laughing. They know he can’t help it.
“No, no, no!” she says, and tightens her grip on him, still laughing. “Not now. Don’t get up to see who it is.”
“But I have to know,” he says mournfully.
“But why? You hate the phone. And you already know you’re not going to answer it.”
“I know, but I have to see,” he says. He bites his lip and gives her a sheepish look. “Come on, let me check it.”
“All right,” she says. “Go look, you big lug. But come back.”
He leans so far over the side of their mattress that he nearly falls onto the floor on his head, still tangled in the sheets. And then, laughing, he has to catch himself and walk on his hands until he can pull himself out of the wreckage and get upright on the floor.
Sex as vaudeville, she thinks. This is what they never tell you about long-term relationships: how you’d just die if you were ever shown a video of yourself trying to have ordinary household sex on any given day. And how it would still be worth it to you.