An Exclusive Excerpt of Laura Dave’s The Last Thing He Told Me Sequel

Turns out, fans haven’t heard the last from Hannah Hall.

It’s been five years since Laura Dave’s popular mystery thriller, The Last Thing He Told Me became a bestseller, inspired a TV series starring Jennifer Garner, and now, a sequel is about to be released: The First Time I Saw Him.

The ending of The Last Thing He Told Me featured a quick reappearance by Hannah’s husband, Owen, years after he disappeared. This left Hannah and her stepdaughter, Bailey, with an uncertain future.

Now, fans will find out when the sequel hits shelves January 6, 2026.

The story follows Hannah and Bailey as they’re forced to flee, constantly trying to escape their past. As the suspense builds, Hannah will do anything to protect Bailey, and along the way, she might find a path back to Owen and a fresh start they’ve both been hoping for.

Craving more? Well, we’ve got you covered with an exclusive excerpt.

According to Dave, the new chapter begins the morning after Owen unexpectedly reappears in Hannah’s life—it’s been five years since he vanished. He told TopMob News that this chapter, titled The First Time I Saw Him, immediately throws readers into the middle of Hannah’s adventure and offers a first look at her reaction.

Hannah is also expanding into television! Her novel, The First Time I Saw Him, is the basis for the second season of Apple TV’s The Last Thing He Told Me, which will be released in late February.

So, to see what’s in store, read on for an exclusive look at The First Time I Saw Him.

Somewhere Along the Line, It Becomes About the Sunrise…

In the morning, I play it back in my head, like a mantra.

Like a magic trick.

Seeing Owen feels like no time has passed at all, as if it were only yesterday instead of over five years ago. He’s still wearing his wedding ring, and his gaze is fixed on mine. He’s leaning in close, whispering in my ear, his lips brushing my cheek, and his arm almost touching mine. It feels natural, like he’s always belonged right there beside me.

My husband.

I’ve been awake for hours, sitting on my bedroom balcony and enjoying the gentle morning light. That light is one of the best things about my little Craftsman house – it’s located just a couple of blocks from Palisades Park, the Santa Monica beaches, and the ocean.

The balcony is perfectly positioned to catch the soft morning sunlight. Bailey calls the sunrise from here her favorite, and it’s usually a peaceful moment, being in a quiet neighborhood where everyone knows each other – it’s been that way for generations. But this morning, none of that feels comforting.

I took a sip of my coffee and replayed the moment in my head. Owen was standing right there, then he was gone, just like that. I kept going over every little detail of our brief conversation, trying to understand what happened while he was in the showroom.

I wonder what he was up to before I saw him. Where did he come from? I think I remember seeing him walk in, but maybe I didn’t. Could he have come in earlier and I just didn’t notice?

It doesn’t seem possible. It doesn’t seem possible that I wouldn’t know that Owen was there.

I didn’t mention any of it to Bailey last night—her father’s brief appearance. His disappearance.

You know, if it had just been the two of us at dinner, I probably would have ended up hashing things out right then and there. But honestly, I was grateful we weren’t alone. It gave me a chance to gather my thoughts first. It was actually perfect that I was with Shep – he’s still pretty new, so ‘boyfriend’ feels a little strong just yet! – and he just naturally walked me through his whole life story over a delicious meal of dim sum, garlic-butter noodles, and a ton of spicy soup. It was a welcome distraction, and exactly what I needed.

I tried to concentrate while Shep rattled off his accomplishments – Harvard, Bridgewater, his family’s estate – hoping to impress me. None of it worked. What did get my attention was how lovingly he held Bailey’s hand and how he genuinely laughed at everything she said.

I think about calling Bailey, but it’s too early – just after 8 a.m. She’s probably getting ready for work, showering and having coffee. I don’t want to burden her with this first thing, and it’s not something I can even properly discuss over the phone anyway, especially when it concerns her father.

I breathed in the salty air, trying to calm myself. But I couldn’t stop wondering if Owen’s visit wasn’t just a coincidence, or simply because enough time had passed. It felt like something else entirely, and now, with him here, things actually feel less secure than if he’d stayed away.

This is when my phone buzzes.

My phone rang, and I glanced down to see it was the Los Angeles Lakers. Knowing it was likely the team doctor, I figured he was calling to schedule a check-up.

My wonderful friend Jules met the doctor while interviewing him for an article in the Chronicle, and she was eager to introduce us when she last visited.

Although I wasn’t thrilled about it, I realized Jules had a good reason for wanting us to meet. He’s a genuinely kind, intelligent, and warm person – someone I’d want my best friend to get to know, if my best friend were looking for a relationship. But right now, I’m not in a place where I’m ready for anything like that.

I’m not unhappy or dwelling on the past. I’m busy with work that I enjoy, surrounded by friends I care about, and most importantly, I have Bailey and our strong little family. We’ve come a long way from the times we didn’t understand each other, and now it’s just the two of us, together, at the center of everything. Plus, Bailey’s family has welcomed me with open arms, and they feel like family to me now too.

I still have no desire to return the doctor’s call. I don’t want to see him – not for dinner, drinks, or even a walk on the beach.

I’m not interested in pretending I’m not (still) someone else’s wife.

I rejected the call and was about to set my phone down when a new text message arrived.

The call is from an international phone number with a +61 country code, which I recognize as being from Australia. I once had a client with a vacation home in Kiama, near Sydney, who also had a +61 code.

Sydney. Australia.

I click on the text.

Check your pocket.

My breath lands in my throat and I quickly reply to the text.

Who is this?

I keep getting an automatic response saying the person isn’t accepting messages right now.

I quickly went inside and headed straight to my bedroom, checking the pockets of the dress I’d worn the day before. They were empty. Trying to remember everything I’d had on, I went into my office and spotted my leather motorcycle jacket tossed over a bench near my desk.

I checked the first pocket, but it was empty. I started to feel relieved – maybe this was a prank, a scam, or just a wrong number.

Then I reach into the other pocket and feel something hard and small.

A flash drive.

My heartbeat quickens, my skin heating up. My first question to myself isn’t: What is this?

My first question to myself also contains the start of an answer:

Why did Owen need me to have this?

The sound of the doorbell made me jump. I went back out onto the balcony and looked down at the sidewalk. A large, muscular repairman in a SoCalGas uniform was standing at my door.

I call down to him. “Can I help you?”

He squints up at me, blocks his eyes from the sun.

“Sorry to trouble you, miss. We have reports of a gas leak from your neighbors. The Waldmans?”

The Waldmans live in a Dutch Colonial two doors down from me.

Lydia Waldman spent her childhood in a house just two doors from Ocean Park and Main Street in South Santa Monica – a lively area filled with surf shops, fresh produce stands, and cozy coffee places. Now, she’s raising her own family there: twin daughters and two yellow Labrador Retrievers.

“Are they okay?”

Everyone’s okay. I just need to quickly check the connection inside, if that’s alright with you. Could you see if the problem seems to be originating from this location?

I glance down the street toward the Waldmans’ house. I spot a white pickup truck at the corner, and it might belong to the repairman, but I’m not certain. I can’t see the company logo clearly enough to be sure.

He seemed to know I was unsure, and gave me a reassuring smile. He offered his worker ID, saying I could call it in to his supervisor if I wanted to. He explained it’s just better to be careful these days, and honestly, I completely agree. It made me feel a lot better knowing he was so willing to help and prioritize safety.

“No. Sure.”

I practically flew back inside, clutching that flash drive like it was my lifeline. No one – no one – is getting in here until I’ve spoken to that supervisor first. I need to be sure. And I’m definitely texting Lydia Waldman – she has to know about this, immediately.

Just as I started up the stairs, my phone buzzed again. It was the same unfamiliar international number – still showing +61 – and another text message had arrived.

Get out of the house. Now.

2025-11-25 17:24

Somewhere Along the Line, It Becomes About the Sunrise…

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