“When romance novelist Emily Henry releases a new book, it’s nothing short of a literary event. And this spring’s Funny Story ― which has already been named one of the most anticipated books of 2024 by everyone from the New York Times to the Today show ― is sure to be no exception... this sumptuous novel is Henry at her very best.”
―Bustle
“Bestseller Henry takes on fake-dating in this equally poignant and charming tale of love after loss… Henry perfectly balances sorrow and discord with love and humor, and romance fans will appreciate watching the growth of the characters’ relationships and of Daphne as a person. This is a heartwarming take on summer love.”
―Publishers Weekly
1
Wednesday, May 1
108 Days Until I Can Leave
Some people are natural storytellers. They know how to set the scene, find the right angle, when to pause for dramatic effect or breeze past inconvenient details.
I wouldn't have become a librarian if I didn't love stories, but I've never been great at telling my own.
If I had a penny for every time I interrupted my own anecdote to debate whether this actually had happened on a Tuesday, or if it had in fact been Thursday, then I'd have at least forty cents, and that's way too big a chunk of my life wasted for way too small of a payout.
Peter, on the other hand, would have zero cents and a rapt audience.
I especially loved the way he told our story, about the day we met.
It was late spring, three years ago. We lived in Richmond at the time, a mere five blocks separating his sleek apartment in a renovated Italianate from my shabby-not-quite-chic version of the same kind of place.
On my way home from work, I detoured through the park, which I never did, but the weather was perfect. And I was wearing a floppy-brimmed hat, which I never had, but Mom mailed it to me the week before, and I felt like I owed it to her to at least try it out. I was reading as I walked-which I'd vowed to stop doing because I'd nearly caused a bike accident doing so weeks earlier-when suddenly, a warm breeze caught the hat's brim. It lifted off my head and swooped over an azalea bush. Right to a tall, handsome blond man's feet.
Peter said this felt like an invitation. Laughed, almost self-deprecatingly, as he added, "I'd never believed in fate before that."
If it was fate, then it's reasonable to assume fate a little bit hates me, because when he bent to retrieve the hat, another gust swept it into the air, and I chased after it right into a trash can.
The metal kind, bolted to the ground.
My hat landed atop a pile of discarded lo mein, the lip of the can smashed into my rib cage, and I did a wheezing pratfall into the grass. Peter described this as "adorably clumsy."
He left out the part where I screamed a string of expletives.
"I fell in love with Daphne the moment I looked up from her hat," he'd say, no mention of the trash-noodles in my hair.
When he asked if I was okay, I said, "Did I kill a bicyclist?"
He thought I'd hit my head. (Nope, just bad at first impressions.)
Over the last three years, Peter dusted off Our Story every chance he got. I was sure he'd work it into both our vows and his wedding reception speech.
But then his bachelor party happened, and everything changed.
The story tipped onto its side. Found a fresh point of view. And in this new telling of it, I was no longer the leading lady, but instead the teensy complication that would forever be used to jazz up their story.
Daphne Vincent, the librarian that Peter plucked out of the trash, nearly married, then dumped the morning after his bachelor party for his "platonic" "best" "friend," Petra Comer.
Then again, when would he even need to... tell their story?
Everyone around Peter Collins and Petra Comer knew their history: How they'd met in third grade when forced into alphabetical seating, bonding over a shared love of Pokemon. How, soon after, their mothers became friends while chaperoning an aquarium field trip, with their fathers to follow suit.
For the last quarter of a century, the Collinses and the Comers vacationed together. They celebrated birthdays, ate Christmas brunches, decorated their homes with handmade picture frames from which Peter's and Petra's faces beamed out beneath some iteration of the phrase BEST FRIENDS FOREVER.
This, Peter told me, made him and the most gorgeous woman I'd ever met more like cousins than friends.
As a librarian, I really should've taken a moment to think about Mansfield Park or Wuthering Heights, all those love stories and twisted Gothics wherein two protagonists, raised side by side, reach adulthood and proclaim their undying love for each other.
But I didn't.
So now here I am, sitting in a tiny apartment, scrolling through Petra's public social media, seeing every detail of her new courtship with my ex-fiance.
From the next room, Jamie O'Neal's rendition of "All By Myself" plays loudly enough to make the coffee table shiver. My next-door neighbor, Mr. Dorner, pounds on the wall.
I barely hear it, because I've just reached a picture of Peter and Petra, sandwiched between both sets of their parents, on the shore of Lake Michigan-six abnormally attractive people smiling abnormally white smiles over the caption, The best things in life are worth waiting for.
As if on cue, the music ratchets up.
I slam my computer shut and peel myself off the sofa. This apartment was built pre-global warming, when Northern Michiganders had no need for air-conditioning, but it's only May first and already the apartment turns into a brick oven around midday.
I cross to the bedroom hallway and knock on Miles's door. He doesn't hear me over Jamie. I escalate to pounding.
The music stops.
Footsteps shuffle closer. The door swings open, and a weed fog wafts out.
My roommate's dark brown eyes are ringed in pink, and he's in nothing but a pair of boxers and a funky knitted afghan wrapped around his shoulders like a very sad cape. Considering the overall climate of our hotbox apartment, I can only assume this is for modesty's sake. Seems like overkill for a man who, just last night, forgot I lived with him long enough to take a whole-ass shower with the door wide open.
His chocolate-brown hair sticks up in every direction. His matching beard is pure chaos. He clears his throat. "What's up."
"Everything okay?" I ask, because while I'm used to a disheveled Miles, I'm less used to hearing him blast the saddest song in the world.
"Yep," he says. "All good."
"Could you turn the music down," I say.
"I'm not listening to music," he says, dead serious.
"Well, you paused it," I say, in case he really is simply too high to remember more than three seconds back. "But it's really loud."
He scratches one eyebrow with the back of his knuckle, frowning. "I'm watching a movie," he says. "But I can turn it down. Sorry."
Without even meaning to, I'm peering over his shoulder to get a better look.
Unlike the rest of our apartment, which was perfectly tidy when I arrived and is still perfectly tidy, his room is disastrous. Half of his records are stacked atop the milk crates they ostensibly belong inside. His bed is unmade, a rumpled comforter and the sheet untucked all the way around. Two tattered flannel shirts hang out of his mostly closed dresser drawers, like little ghosts he's pinned there, midescape.
In direct opposition to the creams and taupes of my room, his is a messy, cozy mix of rusts, mustards, seventies greens. Where my books are neatly organized along my bookcase and the shelf I installed above my window, his (very few) are face down, spines cracked, on the floor. Electronics manuals, loose tools, and an open bag of Sour Patch Kids are scattered across his desk, and on his windowsill, a stick of incense burns between a few surprisingly vivacious houseplants.
His TV, though, is what catches my eye. Onscreen is the image of a thirty-year-old Renee Zellweger, sporting red pajamas and belting a song into a rolled-up magazine.
"Oh my god, Miles," I say.
"What?" he says.
"You're watching Bridget Jones's Diary?"
"It's a good movie!" he cries, a little defensive.
"It's a great movie," I say, "but this scene is, like, one minute long."
He sniffs. "So?"
"So why has it been playing for at least"-I check my phone-"the last eight minutes?"
His dark brows knit together. "Did you need something, Daphne?"
"Could you just turn it down?" I say. "All the plates are rattling in the cabinets and Mr. Dorner's trying to bust down the living room wall."
Another sniff. "You want to watch?" he offers.
In there?
Too big of a tetanus risk. An ungenerous thought, sure, but I have recently tapped out my supply of generosity.
에밀리 헨리 [저]
청소년과 성인 모두를 위한 사랑과 가족 이야기를 주로 쓰는 작가다. 호프대학에서 창작을 공부했고, 미술과 미디어 연구 뉴욕 센터에서 일했다. 2020년에 출간된 『비치 리드(Beach Read)』와 2021년에 출간된 『우리의 열 번째 여름』은 출간 즉시 뉴욕타임스 베스트셀러에 올랐다. 『책을 사랑하는 사람들(Book Lovers)』은 그녀의 가장 최신작이다. 지금은 주로 오하이오주 신시내티와 켄터키 지역에서 시간을 보내고 있다.
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인터파크도서는 고객님의 단순 변심에 의한 교환과 반품에 드는 비용은 고객님이 지불케 됩니다.
단, 상품이나 서비스 자체의 하자로 인한 교환 및 반품은 무료로 반품 됩니다.
교환 및 반품이 가능한 경우
상품을 공급 받은 날로부터 7일이내 가능 공급받으신 상품의 내용이 표시, 광고 내용과 다르거나 다르게 이행된 경우에는 공급받은 날로부터 3개월 이내, 혹은 그사실을 알게 된 날 또는 알 수 있었던 날로부터 30일 이내 상품에 아무런 하자가 없는 경우 소비자의 고객변심에 의한 교환은 상품의 포장상태 등이 전혀 손상되지 않은 경우에 한하여 가능
교환 및 반품이 불가능한 경우
구매확정 이후(오픈마켓상품에 한함) 고객님의 책임 있는 사유로 상품 등이 멸실 또는 훼손된 경우
(단, 상품의 내용을 확인하기 위하여 포장 등을 훼손한 경우는 제외) 시간이 지남에 따라 재판매가 곤란할 정도로 물품의 가치가 떨어진 경우 포장 개봉되어 상품 가치가 훼손된 경우
다배송지의 경우 반품 환불
다배송지의 경우 다른 지역의 반품을 동시에 진행할 수 없습니다. 1개 지역의 반품이 완료된 후 다른 지역 반품을 진행할 수 있으므로, 이점 양해해 주시기 바랍니다.
중고상품의 교환
중고상품은 제한된 재고 내에서 판매가 이루어지므로, 교환은 불가능합니다.
오픈마켓 상품의 환불
오픈마켓상품에 대한 책임은 원칙적으로 업체에게 있으므로, 교환/반품 접수시 반드시 판매자와 협의 후 반품 접수를 하셔야하며, 반품접수 없이 반송하거나, 우편으로 보낼 경우 상품 확인이 어려워 환불이 불가능할 수 있으니 유의하시기 바랍니다.
배송예정일 안내
인터파크 도서는 모든 상품에 대해 배송완료예정일을 웹사이트에 표시하고 있습니다.
<인터파크 직배송 상품>
상품은 월~토요일 오전 10시 이전 주문분에 대하여 당일 출고/당일 배송완료를 보장하는 상품입니다.
상품은 서울지역/평일 주문분은 당일 출고/익일 배송완료를 보장하며, 서울외지역/평일 주문분의 경우는 오후 6시까지 주문분에 대하여 익일 배송완료를 보장하는 상품입니다. (단, 월요일은 12시까지 주문에 한함)
상품은, 입고예정일(제품출시일)+택배사배송일(1일)에 배송완료를 보장합니다.
~
상품은 유통특성상 인터파크에서 재고를 보유하지 않은 상품으로 주문일+기준출고일+택배사배송일(1일)에 배송완료를 보장합니다.(토/공휴일은 배송기간에 포함되지 않습니다.) ※기준출고일:인터파크가 상품을 수급하여 물류창고에서 포장/출고하기까지 소요되는 시간
<업체 직접배송/오픈마켓 상품>
~
상품은 업체가 주문을 확인하고, 출고하기까지 걸리는 시간입니다. 주문일+기준출고일+택배사배송일(2일)에 배송완료를 보장합니다.(토/공휴일은 배송기간에 포함되지 않습니다.) ※5일이내 출고가 시작되지 않을시, 오픈마켓 상품은 자동으로 주문이 취소되며, 고객님께 품절보상금을 지급해 드립니다.
배송비 안내
도서(중고도서 포함)만 구매하시면 : 배송비 2,000원 (1만원이상 구매 시 무료배송) 음반/DVD만 구매하시면 : 배송비 1,500원 (2만원이상 구매 시 무료배송) 잡지/만화/기프트만 구매하시면 : 배송비 2,000원 (2만원이상 구매 시 무료배송) 도서와 음반/DVD를 함께 구매하시면 : 배송비 1,500원 1만원이상 구매 시 무료배송) 도서와 잡지/만화/기프트/중고직배송상품을 함께 구매하시면 : 2,000원 (1만원이상 구매 시 무료배송) 업체직접배송상품을 구매시 : 업체별로 상이한 배송비 적용
* 세트상품의 경우 부분취소 시 추가 배송비가 부과될 수 있습니다.
* 북카트에서 배송비없애기 버튼을 클릭하셔서, 동일업체상품을 조금 더 구매하시면, 배송비를 절약하실 수 있습니다.
해외배송 안내
인터파크도서에서는 국내에서 주문하시거나 해외에서 주문하여 해외로 배송을 원하실 경우 DHL과 특약으로 책정된 요금표에
의해 개인이 이용하는 경우보다 배송요금을 크게 낮추며 DHL(www.dhl.co.kr)로 해외배송 서비스를 제공합니다. 해외배송은 도서/CD/DVD 상품에 한해 서비스하고 있으며, 다른 상품을 북카트에 함께 담으실 경우 해외배송이 불가합니다.
해외주문배송 서비스는 인터파크 도서 회원 가입을 하셔야만 신청 가능합니다.
알아두세요!!!
도매상 및 제작사 사정에 따라 품절/절판 등의 사유로 취소될 수 있습니다. 오픈마켓업체의 배송지연시 주문이 자동으로 취소될 수 있습니다. 출고가능 시간이 서로 다른 상품을 함께 주문할 경우 출고가능 시간이 가장 긴 기준으로 배송됩니다. 유통의 특성상 출고기간은 예정보다 앞당겨지거나 늦춰질 수 있습니다. 택배사 배송일인 서울 및 수도권은 1~2일, 지방은 2~3일, 도서, 산간, 군부대는 3일 이상의 시간이 소요됩니다.
;)
;){kind=small}
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교환 및 반품이 가능한 경우 
상품을 공급 받은 날로부터 7일이내 가능 
상품은 월~토요일 오전 10시 이전 주문분에 대하여 당일 출고/당일 배송완료를 보장하는 상품입니다.
상품은 서울지역/평일 주문분은 당일 출고/익일 배송완료를 보장하며,
상품은, 입고예정일(제품출시일)+택배사배송일(1일)에 배송완료를 보장합니다.
~ 
상품은 유통특성상 인터파크에서 재고를 보유하지 않은 상품으로
상품은 업체가 주문을 확인하고, 출고하기까지 걸리는 시간입니다.
