In 48 hours, I lost everything. I came home to find my girlfriend of four years with another man. The next day a plane crash ripped my family away from me, shattering me in the process. In many ways, I died that day, too. The fun-loving man who'd lived his life in the fast lane and loved his career in the film industry was gone. Left was a forty-year-old shell that dwelled at the bottom of a bottle. Only one person knew what I was going through. My sister's stepson, who hadn't been on the plane. Julian knew what it was like to lose everyone he loved, too. He'd stopped showing up at reunions when he was a teenager, so I didn't know him very well. But I told him at the memorial service he could come out and visit me in LA whenever. One day he did, and I guessed it was as good a day as any to start picking up the pieces and see what was left of us.
Visitors also looked at these books