Her Whole World

By Michelle Hall

Having fallen out of touch fourteen years prior, single mom Madison Kahn reunites with her college best friend, Harrison Daniels. Just as their reunion quickly heats up, a phone call throws their spark – and their planned summer together - into jeopardy.
She learns her mother's mental health has landed her back in a psychiatric ward. After a visit to the hospital, Madison realizes she can't allow her mother to return home alone, and so like countless times before, this burden falls upon her. Though no matter what happens, Madison tells herself not only will she not lose Harrison again, but she'll make their time together absolutely unforgettable. But with an ex-husband intent on reconciliation and a daughter bouncing between summer camp and home, Madison's summer and her newfound romance with Harrison may just topple, along with her own sanity as well.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michelle Hall
• Release date: Sep 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223551539

Book preview

Chapter One

The Dream

Last night I saw him in my dream. For the past fifteen years, he had come to me once every 365 days. My deceptive vision would trick my brain into believing everything in front of me was a reality until I awoke. We would meet at sunset; it always occurred as the day’s light took its final bow—never earlier or later. After our initial meeting, we’d promise to regroup the next day, always leaving the specific details vague. It was an open-ended guarantee that was never fulfilled. The promise succumbed to unforgiving circumstances where I couldn’t find him, or I heard his name but couldn’t see him. This dance between us always ended in disappointment. I would awake wanting to go back to sleep, but I knew the dream wouldn’t pick up where it had been, and I resigned myself to the hope of seeing him again soon.

Our goodbye, years ago, wasn’t supposed to be final. There should have been the next time, but there wasn’t, and nothing we did changed the unfavorable resolution. The last time I saw him, I was twenty-two and so naïve. I believed we had all the time in the world to have fun and go on adventures while preserving our platonic friendship because that’s all we knew. I didn’t have plans or expectations to go further than what we maintained, and I was pretty sure he had shared the same sentiment, but I always thought…what if? What if that original post-college trip I was supposed to go on had happened? Would we have happened? Two people who graduated as best friends and morphed into lovers, two people who grew as husband and wife with all the spoils and privileges that could have unfolded from a healthy and full marriage—could that have been us? But I would never know because we never saw each other again after he moved to California.

All I had left of my dear friend was this yearly dream, and I knew if we did make it to that next day within this mindscape, there would have been more of our relationship uncovered, truths explored, and emotions revealed. The dream would not have ended as us being just friends.

But, at least for me, something suddenly changed in our fifteenth year apart. I had no idea what he was up to or if he was even single. For all I knew, he was married to his dream woman and had three children. The thought stung a bit, but that’s how I quelled the doubts from spreading like a festering wound.

The first dream of this year happened in February, and it was the same routine. We reconnected, spoke about a promised tomorrow that never came, and I emerged with the deepest pit of regret over losing him. I had prepared myself for another year before I captured him in my sleep again, but April arrived, and there he was again. Now here we were in June, and the dream occurred for the third time. Three times in one year! This never happened; how could it happen? This was a yearly cycle, never three times within six months. It had to mean something, right? His voice was so clear in the third dream, as if he were next to me in my large king-sized white bed, whispering in my ear. I swore I felt his breath. The third dream was the most vivid and surreal, where I could taste the air I breathed in my slumber.

Hi, he said.

Oh my god. Hi, I said, surprised to see Harrison even in my dream.

He leaned over the railing, close to my body, wrapped in a charcoal cotton jersey dress. He wore a classic open-collared white shirt, black pants, and a matching suit jacket which was unbuttoned. Our bodies were inches from one another and barely touched. He smelled amazing, like a mix of the ocean’s freshest air. His body brought a gentle breeze, blanketing my skin, every pore of my being taken by his presence.

I can’t believe it’s you, he said.

It’s me, I said, whipping out my jazz hands, playing up my nonchalant inner dork. It’s so good to see you.

It’s good to be seen. He flashed his signature white-toothed smile, a dental hygienist’s dream patient.

You look great, I told him honestly.

I always have, he said, laughing.

That laugh. I lived for that laugh, and all I wanted to do was drink it in. He was the perfect best friend, a superb confidante. He never judged and only encouraged me while still keeping me grounded. How could he be real? And then I remembered it was only the dream I had to cling to. His thick brown hair was styled perfectly on his symmetrical head, leading down to a natural light olive complexion. He sported a sprinkle of a five o’clock shadow, the fashionable kind. I readjusted my signature blacked-out aviators with a silver-wired frame, battling the descending sun on the horizon.

You haven’t changed, he said, pushing back a thick black curl behind my ear.

I try.

You never had to try. That’s why I always thought you were fantastic. You are fantastic. His eyes locked with mine, awaiting my next words.

Can we see each other again? I asked.

Tell me when, and I’ll be there.

How about tomorrow?

Tomorrow sounds great. Same time, but a different place?

I smiled, not needing to speak another word to solidify my answer. When tomorrow arrived, I searched the new area, despite him not making the exact location clear, and overlooked the day’s sun about to set. I couldn’t find him anywhere. I sent a text message, asking for his location and if he was even coming? He said something came up, but he would try to escape this obligation I knew nothing about, and two seconds later, the dream ended.

I shot up in my bed, scanning the room, only to reassure myself that I was not losing it and could finally breathe in steady streams of oxygen. I peered at my watch, the time reading almost seven in the morning. I grabbed my phone from under a pile of clothes on the cluttered nightstand and opened Instagram—my encyclopedia for people I followed but rarely spoke to. I scrolled through countless profiles, never wondering why I simply didn’t just type in his name for quicker success. I guess I wanted the challenge and to feel like I was working toward my discovery of my best friend from college. The funny thing was, despite our separation and not speaking for over a decade, we followed each other’s accounts for no reason. I had recalled a follow request one day, and I reciprocated the action. At that point, I was buried deep in life with a five-year-old daughter who was my world and my now ex-husband, but I never thought to send my friend a message until now.

I found his profile’s name, TheSecretAgent, and clicked on the pink encircled icon, signifying he had uploaded an Instastory recently. I watched and caught my breath as the story showed an everything bagel cut in half, stuffed with ample whipped cream cheese and pink lox. Over the picture, it read, Only The Best In New York, and I gasped. He was in New York. I had to message him. There were so many signs I couldn’t ignore. If I allowed this geographical opportunity to pass, I would regret it for the rest of my life.

Harrison Daniels was here, less than twenty miles from my home. I opened my contacts list and found his name instantly. I seldom deleted anyone from my phone, yet I didn’t contain an absurd number of contacts either, always wanting to keep a close circle. There were those people who maintained a list of one thousand-plus contacts. I was lucky if I could find one hundred and fifty people I had come across during my twenty-five-plus years of owning a cell phone. I clicked Harrison’s information, and the iMessage window appeared, a blank canvas awaiting me to say or type anything to the man I had dreamed about for too long. My fingers hovered over the keys, forgetting how to press them. I could do this. I had nothing to lose. The only thing to gain from this was closure, at the very least, from our abrupt falling out. No answer from Harrison was a response, and if silence answered me back, I would move on and hope to never dream of him again. I refused to be that girl who chased someone, but this was not chasing. This was simply checking in after a prolonged period of not speaking.

I typed a careful message saying, Hi Harrison, it’s Madison. It’s been a long time! I hope you’re doing well and killing it in Hollywood! This sounds strange, but I saw you’re in New York on Instagram…how are you?

I stared at the text, not hitting send quite yet. I wanted to make sure this was what I wanted to say, my one, last, big shot to connect with the friend I thought I would have forever. My finger hovered over the blue arrow in the text box, knowing this was it. I didn’t have anything else to say or anything else to edit. If I didn’t send the message now, I never would, so I hit send, threw myself back onto my ultra-fluffy marshmallow pillows, and covered my eyes with shaky hands. My stomach swirled with an insurmountable number of phantom butterflies, and I forgot how early in the morning it was. I winced as the mortification seeped into my bones. What if Harrison thought he was the first person I thought about each morning? I was about to send another text, apologizing for contacting him before eight in the morning, when Carol, the fluff monster Bernedoodle and my daughter Lee, barged into my room. They were the purest of reminders I needed to get up and start the new day.

As I got out of bed, my phone buzzed, illuminating its face to reveal a banner tag from Harrison, not even five minutes since I messaged him.

I opened the message, revealing a reply from Harrison. Hello, Maddy.

Chapter Two

The Ladies Lunch

I drum rolled my ice-pink manicured fingernails on the table, awaiting my bestie, my Booboo, my original friend, Raquel, to arrive at the restaurant. Raquel picked this American grill called Murray’s, an upscale burger joint in the meatpacking district. It was the place to see and be seen. I didn’t mind the fanciness of the place, especially after a rather successful pitch to a new client to redesign his hotel. It would be a fantastic project for the firm, my father’s company, to be exact. My father always preached the importance of architects. We designed. We built blueprints for the contractors to execute and left our mark on other people’s property, a place in history my dad sometimes believed. But my senses weren’t supercharged from this possible clutch account that I landed without intervention from my helicopter-micromanaging boss, my father. No, not at all. It was from Harrison’s earlier message, and he called me Maddy when he viewed me in the best light, but then again, I was always Maddy to Harrison.

The instant Harrison answered my text, I decided that after three years of being officially single after my divorce from my ex-husband, Bobby, it was time to commence dating. Of course, I didn’t bank on dating Harrison. I only knew him as my best friend from college and had zero expectations from him other than simply to reconnect and see how his life shaped itself after all these years. I hoped he wanted to know about mine. I mean, he must. He reciprocated my message! I couldn’t wait to tell Raquel the news and about my revelation for the upcoming summer, when my sole daughter and true best friend, Lee, would head off to camp for the first time. It would be hard to see her go, but I couldn’t wait to hear about her time building everlasting memories I never got to experience as a child.

I grabbed the thick brown bound menu, dying for some food. I mouthed the word ‘bread’ to the first busboy I spotted from across the room, pointing to the table and making a circular motion with my index finger. I supposed it was the universal symbol for the breadbasket because it always resulted in a platter of carbohydrates minutes later. A bottle of rosemary and garlic-infused olive oil rested next to the juicy rolls, and my salivary glands watered, yearning to taste. An inner battle pursued over whether to stuff my face right now or wait for Raquel. The struggle. The pain. I sent Raquel a warning message that the bread might be gone by the time she arrived.

Two seconds later, Raquel replied, Running to the restaurant. Wait!!

I also texted Bobby. Hey, Bobby. Are you driving with Lee and me or taking a separate car? It was odd that I hadn’t heard from Bobby this week since it wasn’t his weekend with our daughter. Usually, he checked in by Tuesday, asking if we were up to having dinner or breakfast with him over the weekend as a family. Despite our divorce, our co-parenting skills had reached an astronomical level that even the experts could not decipher. We operated like a great team as a divorced couple and surmised it was all for whatever worked for the sake of Lee. She was the only one who mattered in our twisted, illogical equation as two people who were once drawn together, and at some point, in love. But it was already Wednesday and only radio silence from Bobby.

The food restraint went to shit when I locked eyes with a sourdough roll, my absolute favorite. I grabbed the olive oil and drenched the bread, knowing the betrayal was worth it because this roll mixed with the decadent dressing was fucking phenomenal. Once the food touched my tongue, any guilt for not waiting melted away. Oh, and the roll’s temperature? Raquel approved—perfectly soft, warm, and the bread didn’t need butter. I closed my eyes as I chewed a pathway to heaven.

You bitch, Raquel said.

My eyes snapped open, and there my best friend stood. A smile spread across both our faces. There was Raquel, dripping in labels and as chic and gorgeous as ever. Her exotic appearance, from her large dark eyes to her thick wavy hair, complemented by olive skin, always caused the right people to commit to a double take when she entered a room. I dropped the bread, then thought twice, dipped a piece into the oil, and offered it to Raquel’s waiting mouth.

I saved you a piece. My devilish grin tempted Raquel to accept the bread. I popped the morsel into her mouth. A second later, we burst out laughing. I threw my arms around Raquel’s lean frame before we plopped down into the booth, facing one another.

Wooooo, Raquel howled, I’m sorry I’m late. She shed a black leather bomber jacket with thick golden zippers. Expensive, of course. Raquel pushed her hair back to reveal a gold necklace and precious stones decorating her fingers. A rose gold Rolex watch finished the look. Raquel was the holy grail of friends. She welcomed and smiled at all people from all walks of life. She was a force, and a funny girl, too. Raquel, the firecracker. Take it or leave it, and I wanted all of it. Her energy was contagious, and if I could breathe in Raquel’s aura for the rest of my life, I’d insert the tubes right now. Once Raquel settled, she eyed my presence, scanning my body from head to torso, and raised an eyebrow to flirt.

What? I said, failing to contain an unstoppable smile.

Raquel placed both hands on the shiny table, leaned forward, and said, Slut. Ending the word with a wink.

A roaring laugh escaped from my diaphragm before I even had the chance to control the outburst. I clapped my hands, twisting in the booth. Whatever do you mean?

Raquel’s eyes bore into my body. Look at you, showing some skin. Raquel touched her chest, referring to the white button-down shirt I sported. The top two buttons on the blouse were unfastened, allowing some cleavage. And you’re feeding me oil-dipped bread. Jerry better watch out. He’s got some competition in town.

I’m ready whenever you are. I nudged Raquel’s leather-heeled foot under the table.

Well, well, well, Raquel said before we crumbled into sweet piles of giggles. She grabbed a menu, half studying it. The menu only lasted a few seconds in Raquel’s hands before flinging it to the other side. She drummed both hands on the table, ready to make an announcement. I’m ordering for us. I know what to get and what you’ll like. Prepare yourself. I’m starved.

Well, before you take the lead, I have an announcement. I sucked in a sharp, readying breath.

You had sex.

I stopped mid-breath, releasing a nervous laugh. What about sex made me nervous? Maybe the fact that I hadn’t had it in…years?

No. No sex was had.

You still have time. Raquel winked.

Wait, I have something to say. I held up my hand, attempting to stop my loose cannon of a friend.

Go ahead. I give you the floor.

I breathed, ready to release my grand epiphany from the other night. I am ready to date.

Raquel clapped her hands together, throwing her head back in the wildest fashion. Thank fucking god.

I shrunk in my seat at her outburst, but this was Raquel, after all. I knew what I was getting into when I invited her for lunch today. Hold on, there’s more.

More? Raquel’s stunning dark green eyes bulged. Oh. I can’t wait to hear this.

I’m declaring this the summer of Madison. I paused, ready to reveal what I intended to do before. I messaged someone via text.

I love it when you take the initiative. It’s really the true you. I never felt like you were that way when Bobby was present.

Hold on. I’m not here to talk about the past. My cheeks burned a fiery red.

Of course, of course. I’m sorry. Go on. Raquel signaled the waiter, pointing to the massive cocktail menu. Who did you text?

His name is Harrison.

Raquel’s eyes widened. She was about to say something when I leaned forward into her personal space.

Harrison Daniels, to be exact.

Raquel clutched her chest. Harrison Daniels? What a name. He sounds like a movie star.

It’s funny you say that because he’s a talent agent.

So, how do you know this, Harrison? Raquel raised another seductive brow, taking a sip from her sweaty iced water glass.

We went to college together and were best friends all four years. I half winced, knowing what to expect next.

Raquel clanked her glass onto the table. Are you kidding me? I thought I was your best friend.

You are. But in college, we both did our own thing and went to different schools. You were in Boston, and I was here.

Okay, fine. Plus, he’s a guy, so there’s no competition.

Exactly. I winked. Anyway. Harrison and I graduated, and he moved to California to live out his dream as a Hollywood agent, and I’m here, obviously. I promised to visit him the first year he was out there, and I even booked the trip. But it never happened. I got mono, remember?

Oh my god, I do. Raquel snapped her fingers, recalling the story. You made out with some guy in an alleyway, right?

I cringed just thinking about the gross judgment call that made me bedridden for two weeks but also served as the greatest diet plan ever. You are correct. So, I told Harrison why I couldn’t go, and I don’t know…he seemed really offended by it all.

What did he say?

I remembered it like it was yesterday.

I recall him saying, ‘Wow, I hope the guy was worth it.’ His words haunted me, kind of. Like, what does that mean even?

What the fuck does that mean?

Exactly, I said.

And you still want to reconnect after those parting words? Raquel raised an eyebrow that would make any man melt. Instead, I needed to prove her wrong.

My eyes darted around the table before landing on Raquel’s waiting face. Well, yes. I’ve dreamt about him once a year since our falling out. But, this past year, I’ve had the recurring dream three times, and I thought this must be a sign. This must be the nudge to text him.

Wait, a second. Did the two of you ever hook up? Raquel’s eyes popped when the waiter silently placed our glasses of Chardonnay on the table. Come to mamma, said Raquel, taking a healthy sip.

How did they know our drink order?

Oh, they know me here. Anyway, continue telling me about the love of your life.

I laughed. He’s not the love of my life.

Okay, the future love of your life…please continue.

I rolled my eyes, not wanting to retaliate, and proceeded. No. We never hooked up. Never kissed, maybe hugged each other when we said goodbye at graduation, and that was it. I indulged in a gulp of wine. The temperature cooled my tongue as it slid down my throat, landing in my stomach. I know it was too soon, but I swore its effects were taking hold of my senses. I know what you’re thinking. Those relationships never work. The platonic ones between a guy and a woman, but ours worked beautifully.

Until it didn’t.

I shrugged, unsure why Harrison took the news of my mononucleosis so poorly, even though I held a slight idea of why. Could he have actually liked me beyond a friend? So, I woke up this morning from the dream, and I just knew I had to text him.

Oh my god. What did you say? Raquel’s face dropped, despite her body lurching forward toward the table.

I wrote a casual and subtle message to him. And he answered. My smile ruptured its way across my face. He said…Hello, Maddy.

Raquel’s face twisted. Maddy? Who calls you Maddy? I’ve never called you, Maddy. You’re my Madison. My best friend is named Madison. Raquel took another swig of her wine, almost finishing off the glass.

I didn’t write back yet. Lee came into the room, and the day got ahead of me, and now I’m here sitting with my Booboo.

That’s right. I am your Booboo. Don’t you forget. Raquel winked. Are you going to write back? Don’t leave the poor boy hanging too long.

What should I say? I wanted to run it by you before I say something. I don’t want to say the wrong thing.

I love you.

What? No, I can’t say that. I fought laughs as my cheeks flushed. And the funny thing was, I knew Raquel was serious.

Why not? I told Jerry I loved him first. In hindsight, I should have waited for him to say it first. Because now he thinks he’s some male god.

Jerry’s good-looking, I won’t lie.

Be my guest. You can have him, said Raquel, signaling to the empty air. Here, let me call him to let him know I’ve set him free. She whipped out her phone, pulling up Jerry’s number.

I just rolled my eyes because I knew no matter how many times Raquel bitched about Jerry, she loved him. He was a grandiose guy, dealing with an equally dramatic woman. They were a perfect match and could drive each other crazy, but their love was pure. It was a love I always wanted to experience, and today I yearned to chase after it. Should I text Harrison, asking if he’d like to meet up?

Raquel rolled her gorgeous eyes, trying to hypnotize me. What are we in high school? Just say, let’s grab a drink in an hour. You name the place. Act like you’re in control. And you’re not acting because you are in control. This is the summer of Madison!

Fine. Fine! Hold on, let me text him now.

I pulled up our short exchange and typed the following succinct message. Would you like to grab a drink? I’m in the city today…let me know? I hit send, not breathing or blinking while clapping both palms over my toasty cheeks before I hid my eyes, not daring to look into the light.

Oh, relax. You make it sound like Harrison is some god, said Raquel, leaning across the table. Booboo, you know I love you, but I’m going to be very honest here. She sucked in a breath. Harris sounds like a jerk.

Harrison. His name is Harrison.

Whatever. If this is really going to be your summer, I don’t want you to be hung up on someone who ghosted you fifteen years ago, said Raquel, signaling the waiter for a refill of wine.

Hold on. Are we ordering food? The sudden growl in my stomach reminded me I had forgotten to eat breakfast.

Oh. They know what I want here. I’m a regular.

I raised an unsure eyebrow.

"Don’t