By Anna Maxted
Meet Holly, the sunny twenty-nine-year-old proprietor of woman Meets Boy, a relationship carrier when you are "beautiful inside of and out." notwithstanding she's a successfulmatchmaker, she hasn't relatively fulfilled her personal dating desires (her ex-fiancé, Nick, turns out not likely to growth from his task as Mr. Elephant, kid's occasion entertainer). So whilst her pals dare her to select a guy off the head of the pile, she's game.
But in a single lousy night, the probably ideal Stuart seems to be a completecad, and Holly's trust within the goodness of humanity takes successful. What does it suggest for her company and her romantic destiny if she will now not belief her skill to learn humans? Holly's pals and associates are drawn into the advanced drama of her existence, whereas Holly learns her most vital lesson: to belief herself.
Rueful and hilarious, Behaving Like Adults is a must-read novel of fellows and ladies transforming into up -- despite themselves.
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Extra info for Behaving Like Adults: A Novel
And I loathed giving only one present. I’d go to town and look in Liberty’s windows, Selfridges’s windows, and I’d see about a million presents that I knew my family would love— Complete Works of Jane Austen for my mother, a cable-knit sweater for my father, makeup in gold cases for Issy, a black rubber bustier for Claudia. (She went through a phase of claiming to be a vampire, to the point of having fangs filed. She still has them. ) Then I’d have to resist it all and buy a boring old saucepan with a lid because I was only shopping for Mum and a saucepan with a lid was all she knew to ask for.
I’ll call you. Bye-bye. ” My hand reached out and turned off the stereo. I realized I wasn’t breathing automatically, and I had to sniff and pant to let the air in. I wondered if he had really gone. Claudia is scared of spiders, and when she sees one she vacuums it up, then leaves the vacuum on for three hours in case it tries to crawl out again. I wished there was a version of that for humans. I didn’t want to move from where I was. So I stayed on the floor, looking at it, thinking that the little black-and-white tiles were better suited to a bathroom.
And so I imagined my parents, asleep in their pajamas under their bobbly old eiderdown. I just went to them, slipped out of my body like a ghost; they were so real I could have been hovering over their heads. I thought of Emily, sprawled in the sunshine, hot; God, but that cat loves to bake herself like a potato. I thought of me in my tent house when I was small, draping a sheet over a chair and crouching beneath it, all my toys gathered about me like courtiers before a queen. Who’d have thought that little girl would come to this?