Love Isn't as Easy as the Books

Part 14

 Despite all of the shit Freen Sarocha has gone through over the last two years: Becky, the sixth month silence, the reunion, the fights, the makeups, the arrests, the corporate problems, the terrorist attacks, Becky, the depression, and the final reunion seven months ago, Freen was now the happiest she'd ever been.

Becky and Freen found each other, it seemed to her, during the lowest point of their lives and if Freen found herself in love with someone when all of their flaws were ready, apparent, and rearing their ugly heads than she thought that there was nothing Becky could possibly do to ever get Freen to stop loving her. Unless, what was it Becky said that one time? Unless she stabbed her or started dating one of her exes.

Freen still had work troubles, which would be a constant problem she realized, and Becky still had her depressed episodes. But each of them was there for the other during these periods. Freen seemingly had an innate knowledge of what to do when Becky was feeling down, and Becky was perfect for getting Freen to relax.

This particular day had been a long day for her, meetings and yelling and meetings and firings and the starting of renegotiating military contracts. For Becky the day was long and blank. She'd been trying to write for several hours, with absolutely nothing coming out. Even forcing the words yielded nothing of value, some stupid drabbles that always wound up going back to Freen.

She felt the pendulum swinging back towards her being in a depressed state and whenever she started to feel like that she decided that she would do something for Freen. If she was going to be sad and useless and another thing for Freen to worry about or take care of, she'd at least apologize beforehand. So Becky decided to cook dinner for her.

In the apartment's fridge Becky dug out ingredients for dinner. She was feeling stir-fry. And for a second she recognized the strangeness of their situation. Becky kind of accidentally moved in. She'd come back to New York without a plan or a place to stay, she kind of figured she'd stay with Brad again, but now that she was actually with Freen, she just suggested she stay with her until Becky located a place.

With her book sitting around #7 on the New York Times bestseller list for the fifth week (it was at #1 the first two weeks after the shooting and has been steadily declining for a while) Becky had plenty of royalty checks and money to spend on an apartment. The problem was that she just liked Freen's place too much, and they both agreed that they slept much better cuddled together.

So they'd officially been together for all of two hours and they moved in together. Not that either of them minded.

What Freen found when she came home was the smell of delicious food being cooked (and Becky had a real talent for cooking) along with all of the sounds that usually come with Becky in the kitchen (loud music, banging, sounds of dancing, singing along). The dining room table was littered with candles and all the serving utensils with the random silver wine cooler Freen was gifted long ago filled with ice with a bottle of wine chilling.

In the kitchen she found Becky dancing (mostly just shaking her hips) to music as she stirred a wok with a large wooden spoon.

"Hey," Freen said with a smile.

Becky turned around and what she saw was Freen looking exhausted, as usual. Her shoulders were slumped and her eyes downcast and tired looking. But she wore a bemused little smile that seemed to energize her just a little bit.

"Hey yourself," Becky responded. "We're having stir-fry tonight, because that's what I wanted."

"Sounds delicious," Freen said as she set down her briefcase.