Serendipity Read Online Free

thinking!
    “I met Ben a few months back at the market. We both grabbed at the same carton of strawberries at the same time.” She pauses and glances at Ben. “Well, technically, I had them first but he’ll never admit that.” She smiles when Ben reaches for her hand, giving it a light squeeze. “We went back and forth on who should take them and eventually we came to a compromise. He said he would let me have them if I went on a date with him.” She giggles as if it’s happening all over again. I’m sick to my stomach because I remember eating those strawberries. They were the first berries of the season, and they were delicious—at the time.
    “How long?” I glare at my mom. She knows what I’m asking.
    She glances at me and then back to Ben. Clearing her throat, she mumbles the answer. “Eight months.”
    I fly up from my chair, nearly knocking my plate onto the floor. “Eight months!” I exclaim, louder than I probably should have.
    “Phoebe, sit down and eat. You’re making this a bigger deal than it needs to be.”
    I don’t let her finish before I storm off into my room and slam the door behind me. I can’t believe my mom’s been keeping this a secret from me for eight fucking months! We never keep secrets from each other… or so I thought. No wonder she won’t go with me to Nashville—she wants to stay here with Ben. Fine, she doesn’t have to come with me, but I’ll be damned if she’s going to call me crying when it ends and try to move in then. Nope, not happening.
    I sit on my bed and sulk like a five year-old. Don’t judge.
    I grab some boxes that my mom had brought home from work last night, starting with my dresser, and I begin to pack my clothes. I’m just finishing up when my stomach growls. My mind immediately returns to the scene that had played out at breakfast. I try to think of moments when I could have suspected my mom was lying to me, but nothing comes to mind.
    Ignoring the hunger pangs, I finish the last of my packing and stack the boxes in a corner. Sighing, I sit on my bed and glance around at how quickly some of the most important things in my life are packed and stacked in just a few boxes and suit cases.

After about a two hour flight and a twenty minute drive, I finally settle into my temporary home. It’s not the Hilton but whatever, I’ll survive—for now anyway. I unpack some suitcases and hang my clothes up in the closet. It’s not even close in size to the one that I had in my apartment but I’ll make do. I make a list of things I need to look for in my own place and number one on the list is a large walk in closet, with plenty of shelving for all of my shoeboxes.
    I had passed a bar on my way to the hotel—one that didn’t look like a hole in the wall—and I wrote down the address so I could check it out after I unpack. I crank the AC up to its highest setting and stand in front of the cool air. In this kind of heat, a girl as sweet as me could melt in two seconds flat.
    I pull at the hem of my top and let the cool air flow up my shirt. It’s going to be nice not to have the cold winters anymore but then again. I’m not sure what the winters are like here but I can assure you that they aren’t anything like they are in Chicago.
    I blow the stray blonde strands out of my face and walk into the small bathroom to take a shower before going out. Number two on my list—must have a large bathroom with a separate shower and tub, and a large vanity.
    I turn on the water and wait five minutes whilst the water heats up. I grab my essentials and place them in the shower the same way I would have them at home. I even brought my own towels. I have no idea how often they change out towels and there is no way I’m drying off my clean body with something that feels like a scratching post.
    The hot water runs out quickly, so I hop out and wrap myself in my robe. I skim through the closet and pull out a red, short sleeve, Marc Jacobs sweater and a pair of white