I want to be loved, she thought in one sudden clear pang. Her heart contracted as if an invisible hand were trying to squeeze it dry. That Michelle let things happen to her, not the other way round. The old Michelle, the girl who’d sat in the library with her shoes off, reading when she should have been revising, reading when she should have been training, reading when she should have been listening to good advice and not believing in easy happy ever afters . . . It was easier to keep everything at arm’s length, under control, because this new Michelle, the bright tough Michelle, was not the sort of girl who let things happen to her, not like hopeless romantic Tory. Even Anna's best friend Michelle - who categorically doesn't believe in true love and handsome princes - isn't immune.But when secrets from Michelle's own childhood come back to haunt her, and. Why hadn’t it come? How had she got to thirty-one, been married and nearly divorced, and never felt the knee-weakening passion even frumpy, mousy Tory Maxwell had enjoyed? Michelle knew herself well enough to know the answer. “She stared unseeing at the park railings, the black paint flaking away in chunks, exposing the Victorian iron beneath.
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