First Comes Love by Emily Giffin Read Free Book Online Page A

Daniel’s most athletic friend, a natural at every sport he played, though he didn’t have Daniel’s drive or work ethic, which evened things out for them on the playing fields. But what stood out to me the most was Nolan’s sense of humor, the laid-back way he approached everything, in stark contrast to my type A brother. In many ways, they really were opposites, their differences becoming more pronounced over the years, as Daniel graduated as Lovett’s valedictorian, then headed north for Harvard, while Nolan focused on girls and parties at Ole Miss, barely eking out a 2.0 GPA (all he needed to return to Atlanta to work at his family’s printing business). Yet despite their divergent paths, the two stayed close, always picking up right where they left off. In fact, just a few days before Daniel died, I overheard him telling Sophie that Nolan would one day be his best man.
    So it was both fitting and gut-wrenching when we returned home from the hospital the morning after the accident to find Nolan leaning against his black Tahoe parked haphazardly in our driveway, his front door open. As my parents and I got out of our car and neared him, he must have been able to tell that something was wrong—
very
wrong—yet he calmly asked, “Where’ve y’all been? Where’s Danny? We’re supposed to shoot hoops at ten.” He was eating a glazed donut and licked his thumb, waiting for a reply.
    I held my breath, and looked at my father, still wearing the crumpled suit from his business trip, his red tie stuffed into his pocket. He started to answer, but then put his head down and hurried into the house, my mother clutching his arm. Nolan stepped out of his truck, his smile fading.
    “Meredith?” he said with a questioning look. “What’s going on?”
    I was only twenty, not even old enough for a legal drink, yet it was clear that I would be the one to tell Daniel’s best friend that he was gone.
    “Daniel was in a car accident last night,” I said, somehow finding my voice, though my throat was constricting, my heart pounding in my ears.
    “Is he okay?” Nolan nodded, as if cuing me for the right answer. “He’s going to be okay. Right, Meredith?” He nodded again, his eyes wide.
    I took a deep breath, then made myself say it aloud for the first time:
Daniel died
.
    Nolan stared back at me, his face blank, as if he hadn’t heard what I said or simply couldn’t process the meaning of my words.
    “A truck hit his car at the corner of Moores Mill and Northside,” I numbly reported, still in shock. “He was wearing his seatbelt, but his internal injuries were too great. They said it happened fast….He didn’t suffer at all.”
    I repeated the words exactly as I’d heard my mother tell my grandparents:
He didn’t suffer at all.
I wanted so desperately to believe it was true, but would always doubt it, always wonder about Daniel’s final thought and whether he knew what was happening to him.
    Nolan collapsed sideways onto his front seat, his long legs hanging out the door, his untied high-tops planted in the driveway. I held my breath in horror, as he let out a string of obscenities, his voice a low, guttural moan:
My God, no. Jesus fucking Christ. Oh fffuckkk. Christ, no.
    My instinct was to flee, escape the sound and sight of Nolan. But I couldn’t leave him. So I finally walked around the front of his car, opened the passenger door, and climbed in beside him. Only then did I register how cold I was, and that I had left my coat at the hospital.
    “Can you turn on the heat?” I asked quietly.
    Nolan shifted in his seat, pulled his door shut, and turned the key still dangling in the ignition. The radio came blaring on before he silenced it with his fist, then followed that up with a hard punch to his dash, splitting open his knuckle. I reached into my purse and handed him a tissue, but he didn’t take it. Blood trickled down his hand and wrist as he announced that he was going to take off.
    “You’re