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HALF A DOZEN MEN IN cargo pants and red t-shirts emblazoned with Jay’s Moving logos, stacked boxes onto bright orange dollies and wheeled them out the door, while Sienna supervised.
The week had been more than taxing—packing the bones of her best friend’s life into boxes to be carted away, all the while, coping with life’s wicked sense of humor. Lexie experienced a form of hell-on-earth that resulted in the one thing Sienna wanted the most, the one thing she’d die for, a baby.
If things were different, if Lexie had reason to rejoice in her pregnancy and wanted to keep the baby, then at the very least, Sienna would be able to help her, be a part of the child’s life, making the pain from her own infertility less debilitating. She would have a chance to be Aunt Sienna, to babysit and pamper, even if the child weren’t her own offspring she doted upon. But Lexie couldn’t keep the child, and at the moment, saw nothing joyous, nothing to celebrate about her pregnancy. In the end, both Lexie and Sienna would be left empty-handed, save for the ache of Lexie’s wounds, and Sienna with the throbbing of her own incompetence.
She felt guilty for not calling Lexie throughout the week, but she needed a few days to process everything—that, and she had worked like a dog packing Lexie’s apartment. When she spoke with her this morning to tell her the movers would be bringing her things today, Lexie hadn’t seemed put off by her lack of communication. She told Sienna about the house she found and insisted her timing had been impeccable. Lexie’s pleasure at the prospect of getting her own things for her place had been palpable, so Sienna decided to try and be happy for her.
Sienna went into Lexie’s bedroom, where all the contents had been removed, except for the huge wrought iron bed.
She touched a hand to the cold iron, missing her best friend so much it hurt. She was so used to leaning on her and hated that her current feelings were not something she could disclose. Though she wished she could share her feelings with her, now was not the time to be selfish. She needed to step up to the plate. It was time for her to be Lexie’s rock.
Two men bustled into the room, their sneakers squeaking on the hardwood floors. They moved to the bed, politely waiting for Sienna to move out of the way, and began to take the frame apart. Their hands moved expertly, unscrewing the headboard and footboard, letting the mattress fall to the floor. They lifted the box spring and carried it deftly from the room, then came back and retrieved the mattress.
Sienna stared down at the remnants of the beautiful antique bed she always admired, and something caught her eye. She moved closer, the object becoming clearer. It was a cell phone.
Sienna crouched on the ground, the muscles in her face tight, her mouth dry.
A shiver ran up her spine. The phone was the same kind Brent had lost... How long ago? Five months? Six?
Suddenly, the ground seemed to sink below her feet. She wobbled unsteadily and reached out a trembling hand. She picked up the phone and turned it over. Sure enough, it was the same kind of cell phone Brent had lost, and in fact, looked identical, down to the jagged scratch across the screen from the time Sienna had dropped it on the concrete outside their home and Brent had cursed at her.
Sienna’s forehead prickled. A sheen of sweat coated her face and back. Her breath came out in ragged puffs. Blinking, she hoped to cast away the phone in her hand along with the dozens of questions pounding through her head like a stampede.
She thought of her husband, the man she had been with for six years. Images of their time spent together flickered through her thoughts, coloring them with uncertainty. She thought of their wedding day—Sienna dressed in yards of white silk and Lexie, her maid-of-honor and only bridesmaid, standing by her side, a pillar of love and support.
Sienna gripped the phone in her hand until her knuckles turned white. She closed her eyes, squeezing her lids shut until they ached. There had to be an explanation for Brent’s phone being in Lexie’s apartment—under her bed.
First, she had to charge it and make sure the phone was his.
Sienna stood, her legs shaking with the effort. When she stumbled backward, into one of the movers, she realized they must have been waiting for her to move. Perhaps they had even spoken to her; however, nothing seemed capable of penetrating the deafening ringing in her ears. “Sorry,” she murmured.
She walked down the hall and into the empty living room. Almost everything had been moved out to the waiting truck. The walls and floors were bare, empty, amplifying the hollow feeling in her gut.
She watched as the movers removed the last remnants of Lexie’s things. She paid them and confirmed the address Lexie had given her over the phone hours before. She moved stiffly, like a robot, talking only out of necessity, but not really saying anything, because only one thing, one image, coursed through every neuron in her brain—the image of Brent in Lexie’s apartment, brutal and beastly. And the fear there was an explanation for the discovery of his cell phone moved around her like a heavy mist she couldn’t wade through.