The Private Serials Box Set(62)

She watched me as my mind sifted through all my options. The financially smart decision would be to room with her. And I did like her.

“Okay, let’s do it.” Then Becky did start clapping and jumping up and down in her spot. “When is this one available?” I asked the landlord.

“It’s ready now. I’d just need first and last month’s rent, and the security.”

“I’m good with that.” I turned to Becky. “You good to go?”

“I’m golden,” she said with a smile that was so big and bright.

So we both filled out the paperwork, wrote checks for our portion, and he gave us keys.



The next day, after I’d brought all my clothes to the new apartment, along with the small amount of personal belongings I’d acquired in my three weeks on the island, I walked into the living room to find Becky looking out the big window.

“It really is beautiful here,” she said, not taking her eyes off the ocean. I’d only known her a short time, but this was the first instance where I heard anything but bubbly sweetness in her voice. She sounded introspective and a little sullen, almost as if the beauty she was referring to wasn’t just the scenery.

“Yeah, it is,” was my response, but it seemed inadequate. Her mood had me worried.

Then, suddenly, she turned to me with the smile I was becoming accustomed to and said excitedly, “I bought a TV and it’s being delivered in a few minutes. I thought we could have a roomie movie night and christen our new pad.”

And just like that, she was back to normal.

“That sounds awesome.”



That evening, one of the things I learned about Becky was that she was the kind of girl who, when packing her things to move to the other side of the country, brought her Friends DVD collection with her.

“It goes where I go,” she said with a laugh as she loaded the first DVD. We’d spent a few hours watching Ross pine after Rachel, eating take-out, and munching on some popcorn I’d purchased for the event. We even had some cheap, girly beer. I was enjoying myself, and loved getting to know Becky better, but the whole situation made me miss Sam, too.

“So,” Becky said, throwing a piece of popcorn in the air and then catching it in her mouth. “Why did you leave Portland?”

“I needed a new beginning. A fresh start.”

“That’s the impersonal response you give to the girl you just met at a coffee shop,” she said, sounding almost insulted. “Tell me the real reason.” She was looking straight into my eyes, like she genuinely wanted to know, and more so, she seemed like she cared about my answer. For the first time in weeks, I was compelled to tell someone else about my ruined life back in Portland.

“I was married, am still, in fact. At least I think so. I haven’t signed any papers. Anyway,” I exhaled, pushing out a breath and pulling my hand through my hair, trying to build up the nerve to say the words. “I was in a bad marriage and made some bad decisions. My husband found out and took everything from me. It’s actually pretty complicated.”

“He didn’t, like, hit you, did he?”

“No, he didn’t hit me, but he wasn’t a very good husband.”

“Well, what were your bad decisions?”

“I had an affair.”

“Hmm.”

We were both quiet for a while. She was probably thinking I was a horrible person, but my mind was torturing me with images of Preston and all the times he’d pretended to care.

“So, what happened with the guy you had the affair with?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why aren’t you with him now?”

It took me a moment to formulate my answer, but I finally settled on, “He didn’t want me after all.”

“I find that really hard to believe.”

“Well, that’s the funny thing about good liars, they’re easy to believe.”

“Obviously I don’t know the situation, but I would venture to guess he’s torn up that you’re not with him.” She was looking at me with concern, her eyes soft and imploring.

I sighed. “You’re sweet, Becky, but he’s not thinking about me. He probably hasn’t spent one second thinking about me since I left.”

“Impossible,” she stated firmly, as if it were a fact she was sure of.

I smiled at her because, really, I appreciated her kind words, but thinking about Preston just made my heart hurt that much more.

“I think I’m going to head to bed.”

“You don’t want to watch any more Friends?”

“Maybe tomorrow.” I climbed off the couch and started walking toward my bedroom.

“Lena,” Becky called from the living room.

“Yeah?” I stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned back to her.

“Do me a favor? Don’t give up on him. That guy back in Portland. Just,” she paused and bit her lip, “don’t give up hope yet.”

I laughed, but it was a sad, pathetic laugh. “Becky, in order to give up hope, I would have had to have some to begin with. And I didn’t. There was never any hope for Preston and me. It was over before it began, and he’s probably somewhere tricking someone else into believing his lies.”