My Review:Grace hasn't been the same since the death of her best friend Charlie. She is haunted by Charlie's words, the last time she saw her, and in a bid for answers, opens an old memory box of Charlie's. It soon becomes clear there was a lot she didn't know about her best friend.
When Grace starts a campaign to find Charlie's father, Anna, a girl claiming to be Charlie's sister steps forward. For Grace, finding Anna is like finding a new family, and soon Anna has made herself very comfortable in Grace and boyfriend Dan's home.
But something isn't right. Things disappear, Dan's acting strangely and Grace is sure that someone is following her. Is it all in Grace's mind? Or as she gets closer to discovering the truth about both Charlie and Anna, is Grace in terrible danger?
There was nothing she could have done to save Charlie ...or was there?
I regret not DNF'ing this -- it got so ridiculous half-way through that I am sorry I even finished it. The first 40% felt eerily similar to The Girl on the Train, which I didn't love but at least was well thought out if predictable, but the last 60% was pretty much awful. When I say ridiculous, I mean it -- the MC/narrator Grace starts having a lot of shitty things happen to her at once -- someone frames her to lose her job, her cat goes missing, she has two severe allergic reactions in one day to food that her new friend has given her, someone starts moving in on her boyfriend, someone hacks her email and starts a social media smear campaign against her and more -- what a coincidence that this all starts happening when she meets a new "friend" that is curiously the half sister of her best friend Charlie who has just died and who she never knew about? And yet, she is not suspicious at all? I don't know, it got super contrived and the ending was just a let down by the time it happened. There was also a lot of size/fat shaming in this book, which I didn't care for.
Grief is crushing, isolating, lonely. We have both lost Charlie, but Dan doesn't know how I feel, not really, and how can he? At first I was mute with shock, unable to contemplate the simplest of tasks, to operate appliances I'd used a thousand times before. My toast was burned, clothes wrinkled. I lost my ability to communicate. Words knotted themselves on my tongue until I swallowed them, and they collided with the mass of emotions swirling inside me. If I couldn't pinpoint how I felt myself, how could I express it to him?