Read at First Sight by Nicholas Sparks Online

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In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of whatsoever part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author'southward intellectual property. If you lot would like to use fabric from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected] Thank y'all for your back up of the author's rights.

This novel is dedicated to

Miles, Ryan, Landon, Lexie,

and Savannah

Acknowledgments

For this novel in particular, I have to thank my married woman, Cathy. Not only was she the inspiration for Lexie's character, but she showed astonishing patience while I was writing the novel. I wake every day knowing that I'thou lucky to have married her.

My kids--Miles, Ryan, Landon, Lexie, and Savannah--who never let me forget that even though I'thousand an author, I'm first and foremost a begetter.

Theresa Park, my agent, deserves my cheers for letting me curve her ear whenever the mood strikes. But more than that, she e'er knows exactly what to say when the going gets tough. I'm fortunate to work with her.

Jamie Raab, my editor, has again earned my undying gratitude. She'due south non only insightful, but mannerly, and I couldn't have written this book without her.

Larry Kirshbaum, the illustrious head of Fourth dimension Warner Volume Group, is heading to different pastures, simply I tin't let him leave without a concluding word of praise. I know it was a tough determination, merely I'grand sure you know what's all-time for you. It's been my accolade and privilege to work with you lot, and I'd similar to wish you the best of luck in whatsoever hereafter awaits.

Maureen Egen, another "biggie" at Time Warner Volume Group, has always been a delight. She'southward equally sharp as they come, and I've loved every infinitesimal nosotros've spent together.

Denise Di Novi, my patron saint in the world of Hollywood, is, and e'er has been, a blessing in my life.

Howie Sanders and Dave Park, my agents at UTA, always look out for me, and I'm thankful to work with them.

Jennifer Romanello and Edna Farley, my publicists, are both fabulous and gifted. They are treasures, and it'southward because of them that I'm even so able to get out and meet my readers.

Lynn Harris and Mark Johnson, responsible for The Notebook, are, and always will exist, my friends.

Scott Schwimer, my chaser, has not only a kind heart, just an extraordinary power to make sure every contract is only as it should be.

Flag, who does my covers; Harvey-Jane Kowal, who handles some of the editing; and Shannon O'Keefe, Sharon Krassney, and Julie Barer as well deserve my gratitude.

I'd similar to give thanks a few more people. Starting time, Dr. Rob Patterson, who talked to me about amniotic band syndrome. If I got annihilation correct, it's because of him; attribute all errors to me. And to Todd Edwards, who salvaged this novel from the hard drive when my reckoner crashed, all I can say is that I'm grateful that he was effectually.

Finally, I'd like to thank Dave Simpson, Philemon Greyness, Slade Trabucco, and the rail athletes at New Bern Loftier School and Rails EC (the Inferior Olympic programme) whom I've had the pleasure to run into and coach. Thanks for giving me your all-time.

Prologue

February 2005

Is love at first sight truly possible?

Sitting in his living room, he turned the question over in his mind for what seemed to be the hundredth time. Exterior, the wintertime sun had long since prepare. A grayish sheen of fog was visible through the window, and bated from the gentle tap of a branch against the glass, all was placidity. Yet he wasn't alone, and he pulled himself up from his spot on the couch and walked down the hall to peek in on her. As he stared, he thought nearly lying beside her, if merely to have an excuse to shut his eyes. He could use the rest, but he didn't desire to risk falling comatose just nonetheless. Instead he watched as she shifted slightly, his mind drifting to the past. He thought over again about the path that had brought them together. Who was he then? And who was he at present? On the surface, those questions seemed like shooting fish in a barrel. His name was Jeremy; he was xl-two years old, the son of an Irish begetter and Italian mother; and he wrote magazine articles for a living. Those were answers he would offer when asked. Though they were truthful, he sometimes wondered whether he should add together something more. Should he mention, for instance, that he'd traveled to North Carolina v years ago to investigate a mystery? That he fell in love there, not in one case just twice that year? Or that the beauty of those memories was intertwined with sadness and that fifty-fifty now he questioned which memories would suffer?

He turned away from the bedroom doorway and returned to the living room. Though he didn't dwell on those events from long ago, he didn't avoid thinking well-nigh them, either. He could no more erase that affiliate of his life than he could modify his altogether. While in that location were times when he wished he could roll back the clock and erase all the sadness, he had a hunch that if he did so, the joy would be diminished every bit well. And that was something he couldn't contemplate.

It was in the darkest hours of the dark that he most often constitute himself remembering his night with Lexie in the cemetery, the night he'd seen the ghostly lights that he'd come up downwardly from New York to investigate. It was then, however, that he'd realized for the first fourth dimension how much Lexie meant to him. As they had waited in the blackness of the cemetery, Lexie had told him a story almost herself. She'd been orphaned every bit a young child, she explained. Jeremy had already known that, but what he didn't know was that she'd begun having nightmares a few years afterwards the deaths of her parents. Terrible, recurring nightmares in which she witnessed the death of her parents. Her grandmother Doris, not knowing what else to do, finally brought her to the cemetery to run across the mysterious lights. To a young kid, the lights were miraculous, heavenly, and Lexie instantly recognized them as the ghosts of her parents. Information technology was, somehow, what she'd needed to believe, and those nightmares never plagued her again.

Jeremy had been touched by her story, moved by her loss and the power of innocent beliefs. But later that night, after he too had seen the lights, he'd asked Lexie what she thought they really were. She'd leaned forward then and whispered, "It was my parents. They probably wanted to meet you."

It was so that he knew he wanted to take her in his arms. He'd long since pinpointed that every bit the moment he first fell in love with her, and he'd never stopped loving her.

Outside, the Feb wind picked up again. Beyond the murky darkness, he could come across nothing, and he lay down on the burrow with a weary sigh, feeling the pull of that year draw him backward in fourth dimension. He could take forced the images away, but equally he stared at the ceiling, he allow them come up. He always allow them come.

This, he remembered, is what happened next.

One

Five Years Earlier

New York City, 2000

Run across, it'south uncomplicated," Alvin said. "First, you meet a nice girl, then you date for a while to make sure y'all share the same values. See if you two are uniform in the big, 'this is our life and we're in it together' decisions. Y'all know, talk about which family unit you're going to visit on the holidays, whether you want to live in a house or an apartment, whether to get a canis familiaris or a cat, who gets to use the shower first in the morning, while there'south still plenty of hot h2o. If you 2 are still pretty much in agreement, then yous get married. Are y'all following me here?"

"I'm post-obit you," Jeremy said.

Jeremy Marsh and Alvin Bernstein were continuing in Jeremy's Upper Due west Side apartment on a cool Saturday afternoon in February. They'd been packing for hours, and boxes were strewn everywhere. Some of the boxes were already filled and had been stacked near the door, ready for the mo

ving van; others were in various stages of completion. All in all, it looked as if a Tasmanian devil had burst through the door, had himself a political party, then left once in that location was nothing else to be destroyed. Jeremy couldn't believe how much junk he'd accumulated over the years, a fact that his fiancee, Lexie Darnell, had been pointing out all morn. 20 minutes ago, after throwing up her easily in frustration, Lexie had gone to have dejeuner with Jeremy'due south mother, leaving Jeremy and Alvin lone for the beginning time.

"So what on earth do you recall you lot're doing?" Alvin prodded.

"But what y'all said."

"No, you're not. Y'all're messing up the order. You're going directly to the big 'I do' before you even figured out whether you two are right for each other. Y'all barely know Lexie."

Jeremy shoved another drawer's worth of clothing into a box, wishing Alvin would alter the subject field. "I know her."

Alvin began shuffling through a few papers on Jeremy's desk, then shoved the stack into the same box Jeremy was loading. As Jeremy's best friend, he felt free to speak his listen.

"I'm just trying to exist honest here, and yous should know that I'yard proverb what everyone else in your family unit has been thinking in the past few weeks. The point is, you don't know her well enough to move downward in that location, allow alone marry her. You only spent a week with her. This isn't like you and Maria," he added, referring to Jeremy'due south ex. "Recollect, I knew Maria, too, a whole lot amend than you lot know Lexie, but I still never felt as if I knew her well plenty to ally her."

Jeremy removed the pages and put them back on his desk, recalling that Alvin had known Maria even before he had and withal remained friends with her. "Then?"

"So? What if I was doing this? What if I came to yous and said I met this dandy lady, so I'm giving up my career, abandoning my friends and family, and moving down south then I can marry her? Like that gal... what's her proper noun... Rachel?"

Rachel worked at Lexie's grandmother'due south restaurant, and Alvin had hit on her during his brusk visit to Boone Creek, going and then far equally to invite her to New York.

"I'd say that I was happy for y'all."

"Puh-lease. Don't you remember what you said when I was thinking virtually marrying Eva?"

"I recall. But this is unlike."

"Oh yeah, I get information technology. Because yous're more mature than me."

"That and the fact that Eva wasn't exactly the marrying type."

This was true, Alvin admitted. While Lexie was a small-boondocks librarian in the rural S, someone hoping to settle down, Eva was a tattoo artist in Jersey City. She was the woman who'd done most of the tattoos on Alvin'southward arms, in addition to nigh of the piercings in Alvin'due south ears, making Alvin look equally if he'd just been released from prison. None of which had bothered Alvin; it was the alive-in boyfriend that she'd neglected to tell him about that finally doomed their relationship.

"Even Maria thinks this is crazy."

"Y'all told her?"

"Of form I told her. We talk near everything."

"I'm glad yous're then close to my ex-wife. Simply it's none of her business concern. Or yours."

"I'm just trying to talk some sense into you. This is happening too fast. You don't know Lexie."

"Why do you keep saying that?"

"I'm going to keep proverb it until you finally admit that you ii are basically strangers."

Alvin, similar Jeremy's five older brothers, had never learned how to drop a subject. The man was like a dog with a os, Jeremy decided.

"She'southward not a stranger."

"No? And so what'due south her middle proper name?"

"What?"

"You heard me. Tell me Lexie's middle name."

Jeremy blinked. "What'southward that got to do with anything?"

"Nada. Simply if you lot're going to marry her, don't you recollect y'all should be able to reply the question?"

Jeremy opened his mouth to answer, and so realized he didn't know. Lexie had never told him, nor had he ever asked. Alvin, every bit if sensing that he was finally getting through to his delusional friend, pressed on.

"Okay, how about these basics? What was her major in college? Who were her friends in college? What's her favorite color? Does she similar white or whole-wheat bread? What's her favorite movie or goggle box show? Who's her favorite writer? Do you even know how old she is?"

"She'south in her thirties," Jeremy offered.

"In her thirties? I could accept told you that."

"I'm pretty sure she'due south thirty-one."

"Y'all're 'pretty sure'? Tin you fifty-fifty hear how ridiculous you audio? You can't marry someone if you don't even know how old she is."

Jeremy opened some other drawer and emptied it into another box, knowing that Alvin had a betoken simply not wanting to acknowledge it. Instead, he drew a long jiff.

"I thought you were happy I finally found someone," he said.

"I am happy for you. Only I didn't think you were actually going to move from New York and decide to marry her. I thought you were kidding about that. You know I think she'south a slap-up lady. She really is, and if you're nevertheless this serious about her in a year or 2, I'll drag you down the aisle myself. You're just rushing things, and in that location's no reason to."

Jeremy turned toward the window; beyond the glass he saw grey, soot-covered bricks framing the functional, rectangular windows of a neighboring building. Shadowed images swept past: a lady talking on the phone; a man wrapped in a towel headed for the bathroom; another woman ironing as she watched boob tube. In all the time he'd lived here, he'd never said so much every bit hello to any of them.

"She's significant," he finally said.

For a moment, Alvin thought he hadn't heard correctly. It was simply when he saw the expression on his friend's confront that he realized Jeremy wasn't kidding.

"She's pregnant?"

"Information technology's a girl."

Alvin plopped down on the bed as if his legs had all of a sudden given out. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Jeremy shrugged. "She asked me not to tell anyone yet. So go on it a surreptitious, volition you?"

"Yep," Alvin said, sounding dazed. "Sure."

"And one more matter."

Alvin looked up.

Jeremy reached for his shoulder. "I'd like you lot to be my best man."

How had information technology happened?

Strolling with Lexie as she explored FAO Schwarz the adjacent twenty-four hour period, he still had trouble answering that question. Not the pregnancy part; that was a night he'd probably remember forever. Despite the brave front he'd put on for Alvin, it sometimes felt equally if he were well-nigh to play a office in a oversupply-pleasing romantic comedy, 1 in which annihilation was possible and zip was sure until the final credits rolled.

What happened to him, after all, didn't normally happen. In fact, it near never happened. Who travels to a modest boondocks to write an article for Scientific American, meets a small-town librarian, and falls head over heels in just a few days? Who decides to leave backside a chance at forenoon goggle box and life in New York City to movement to Boone Creek, North Carolina, a town that was nil more than a hiccup on the map?

And then many questions these days.

Not that he was second-guessing himself most what he was about to do. In fact, every bit he watched Lexie sorting through stacks of GI Joes and Barbies--she wanted to surprise his many nieces and nephews with gifts in the promise of making a good impression--he felt more certain than ever almost his conclusion. He smiled, already visualizing the kind of life he was virtually to settle into. Tranquility dinners, romantic walks, giggling and cuddling in forepart of the tv. Good stuff, stuff that made life worthwhile. He wasn't naive enough to believe they'd never have an argument or struggle, only he had no doubt they would navigate those rough waters successfully, realizing in the terminate that they were perfectly matched. In the big picture, life would exist wonderful.

But every bit Lexie nudged past him, lost in concentration, Jeremy found himself staring at another couple standing by a pile of blimp animals. Actually, the couple was impossible non to notice. They were in their early on thirties and sharply dressed; he had the air of an investment banker or an attorney, while his wife came across like someone who spent every afternoon at Bloomingdale'due south. They were loaded wit

h one-half a dozen numberless from half a dozen different stores. The diamond on her finger was the size of a marble--far larger than the engagement band he'd simply purchased for Lexie. As Jeremy watched, he had no doubtfulness that they unremarkably brought forth a nanny on an outing like this, but because they seemed completely bewildered equally to what they were supposed to do.

The baby in the stroller was screaming, the kind of piercing wail that peeled wallpaper and made others in the store stop in their tracks. At exactly the same time, her older brother--maybe iv or so--was screaming even more loudly and of a sudden threw himself downward on the flooring. The parents wore the panicked, beat-shocked expressions of soldiers nether fire, and it was impossible non to notice the bags under their optics and the translucent pallor of their faces. Despite the impeccable facade, they were plainly at the end of their rope. The mother finally worked the baby free from the stroller and held the infant confronting her equally the husband leaned toward her, patting the baby's back.

"Don't you call up I'thou trying to quiet her downwards?" she barked. "Deal with Elliot!"

Chastised, the man aptitude down toward his son, who was kicking and pounding the floor, throwing the mother of all atmosphere tantrums.

"Finish that screaming right at present!" the husband said sternly, shaking his finger.

Oh yeah, Jeremy thought. Like that'due south going to do it.

Elliot, meanwhile, was turning purple every bit he writhed on the flooring.

By that point, even Lexie had stopped browsing and turned her attention to the couple. It was, Jeremy thought, sort of like staring at a woman who mowed her lawn in her bikini, the kind of spectacle incommunicable to ignore. The infant screamed, Elliot screamed, the wife screamed at the father to do something, the father screamed back that he was trying.

A crowd had gathered, ringing the happy family unit. The women seemed to exist watching them with a mixture of thankfulness and pity: thankful that information technology wasn't happening to them, but knowing--most likely from feel--exactly what the immature couple was going through. The men, on the other hand, seemed to want nothing more than than to get as far away from the dissonance as possible.

Elliot banged his head on the floor and began to scream even louder.

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