ALWAYS AND FOREVER

Rosenthal’s melancholic romance novel explores love, loss, and the people we can’t let go.

Suzanne Starek is nearing 30 and stuck in emotional and professional limbo. An adjunct instructor of American history in Manhattan, she spends her days grading papers, dodging insecurities, and stoically carrying a torch for her lifelong best friend, Jay Darnell. “If he knew I was dying for more, it could ruin everything,” she confesses. “It might make things different. Weird. Awkward. I could lose him—and that would be even worse than spending the rest of my life being secretly in love with my best friend.” Jay, who lives with his troubled and emotionally volatile mother, Laurinda, is charming, decent, and, as Suzanne notes, “the only man I want to sleep on [my sheets] with me.” Their relationship is complex, shaped by decades of shared history and silent sacrifice. But as old friends re-emerge, lovers circle in and out of the picture, and the memory of Suzanne’s gifted uncle and absent father haunt her, she’s forced to reckon with what it means to stay silent. Rosenthal’s prose is quietly luminous and deeply empathetic. Even everyday exchanges are weighted with unspoken longing: “You should eat,” Jay says gently. “You look very thin.” The book is populated with rich supporting characters, including Suzanne’s no-nonsense nurse mother, her bitter grandfather, Jay’s glamorous, toxic mother, and the enigmatic Tru Warrick, who may or may not be Jay’s latest love interest. The plot unfolds at a meditative pace, emphasizing emotion over event. Still, the narrative is layered with personal and familial drama—tenure-track anxieties, health scares, bitter generational conflict, and unresolved grief. At the beautifully melancholic story’s heart is Suzanne’s aching question: What do we do with the love we can’t express?

An elegant, slow-burning portrait of quiet heartbreak and enduring love.