February was a tough month in Boston this year. Granted, it’s a tough month in Boston pretty much every year, but this one was particularly challenging. My eight-year-old self would be horrified to know I’m writing this, but eventually I really, really got sick of snow days. When every day there’s nowhere to go but your own kitchen, nothing to do but shovel, it gets old remarkably fast.
On those long cold afternoons, books were our only refuge, but many of them failed in the end, shattering against the implacable walls of boredom that towered above us. I threw down book after book that month in favor of pacing laps around the apartment; nothing could hold my attention long enough to quell the restlessness. Nothing, that is, except Everything Leads to You.
Everything Leads to You got me through blizzard number three. I read it in seven straight hours, lying on my stomach on the carpet with a cup of coffee and a blanket. It made me want to move to LA, become a set designer, and fall in love with the brilliant, beautiful, long-lost granddaughter of a Hollywood legend. If all air traffic hadn’t been grounded, I might have flown west that night.
I love Emi and Ava’s love story because it feels real, and it feels right. It isn’t simple and it isn’t easy, but nor is it overflowing with drama and angst. They’re just two people who find each other, work it out, and make it happen. Everything doesn’t tie up neatly, but it doesn’t need to, because they both know that the frayed ends are part of what make it true.