Right Kind of Wrong

By: Chelsea Fine


This series has been a whirlwind of fun and excitement to write and I couldn’t have done it without my amazingly supportive readers. From the bottom of my heart, thank you! With every page you’ve read you’ve given me a gift I could never have imagined. I love your guts!

Thank you to Brett, my incredible husband, for being my soul, my spirit, and my sanity in this adventure we call life. You are better than I deserve and the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Thank you for loving me. I’m yours forever.

Thank you to my sweet babies, who are no longer babies but almost tweens. You are the brightest lights in my life and I chase my dreams for you. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for being proud of me. Thank you for all the things you give to me that are too big for words. I love your sweet souls with my whole heart.

Thank you to my wonderful mama. You have stood by me through all the many dreams I’ve chased and never doubted I would catch one. And look at me now! Dreams in my hands, spilling all over the place. Thank you for always believing that this day would come.

Thank you to Kristen, who is my “Jenna,” for being a constant friend to me in all my seasons, and for making me laugh my head off. Seriously. I’m surprised my head is still connected to my body. Yours is the greatest friendship I’ve ever experienced, and I’m grateful beyond words for the joy you bring to my life.

Thank you to my good friend and fellow writer Shelly Crane, who is my partner in things to hope for. I love your guts—all of them.

Thank you to Suzie, my superstar agent. I couldn’t have done any of this without your brilliance and patience! You’re my superhero. For reals.

And thank you to my fantastic editor, Megha, for loving my characters just as much as I do! You felt what I wrote and made this book come to life. And you tolerate my crazy—which is no small task—and for that I’m forever grateful. Thank you for believing in this story, and all the ones before. You truly are incredible.



“Look at you. Being all in love like a grown-up. I’m so proud,” I say, smiling at my best friend, Pixie, as we carry boxes into our joint dorm room. “And Levi,” I add, turning to address Pixie’s hot new piece of arm candy, “you’re welcome.”

He sets a box down. “Am I now?”

I nod. “If it weren’t for me telling Pixie to suck up her fears and just let herself love you, you’d still be a miserable handyman.”

“I am still a handyman.”

“Ah, but you’re no longer a miserable one.” I grin. “Thanks to me.”

He pulls Pixie into his arms and kisses her temple. “Then I guess I should thank you.”

As they start kissing, my phone rings and I’m relieved for an excuse to leave them to all their lovebirding.

I slip out into the hall and close the door before answering my cell.


“Hi, Jenna.” The sound of my mom’s voice makes me smile. “How’s my baby?”

“I’m good,” I say. “Pixie and I are almost all moved in. She came down here with her boyfriend tonight so we were able to get mostly unpacked. I just have a few more boxes left at the apartment, but I’m going to pick those up later. How are you?”

She pauses. “Well I’m okay.”

It’s the way she emphasizes the “I’m” that tells me exactly what this phone call is about.

“Grandma?” I sigh in exasperation. “Again?”

“I’m afraid so. She says she can feel the end coming close.”

I sigh. “Mom. She’s been saying she’s dying for ten years and she’s never even had a cough.”

“I know, but she seems serious this time,” Mom says.

Every few years or so, my grandmother announces to the family that she’s going to kick the bucket at any given moment. The first two times it happened, I immediately flew back to New Orleans—where she lives with my mother and younger sisters in the house I grew up in—to be by her side, only to find Granny alive and well without so much as a sniffle. The last time it happened, I took a few days to get organized before flying back to New Orleans, where I found my “dying” grandmother singing karaoke at a local bar.

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