30 Days (Lost Love Trilogy #1) - Belle Brooks Page 0,11

pen and paper if I didn’t need them?

The lift tings before the doors open on the ground floor. Asher is waiting for my return, holding a black plastic bag.

“Congratulations! I hope you like it here.” She’s a little too excited for my liking. “What size are you? Before you answer, keep in mind our sizing is big.” How does she know already?

“A size six, I guess. I’m normally an eight …”

“I thought you would be. You’re so skinny. That way.” She points, handing me a bag containing what I assume is the uniform.

“Sorry, what’s that way?”

“The amenities. Try it on for size … the uniform.” She gestures to the bag I’m now holding.

Nodding, I follow her instructions.

I enter the amenities and stand in the open area in front of the hand basins. I unzip the dress that seemed more difficult to zip up this morning, avoiding the privacy of a cubicle. Not too bad. I look into a mirror above the hand basins. Red suits me.

Why does all of this seem so strange, so dream-like? So very unrealistic? I shake my head and gaze at my reflection once more.

The uniform consists of a capped sleeve dress with a gavel logo and the company name embroidered on the breast. It also includes a gold and red chequered scarf and a gold gavel dress pin. I don’t even know if I want this bloody job. Now I have a uniform and start tomorrow. Frick.

My skin becomes clammy, every breath becomes harder than the last one to take, and dizziness overcomes me. Panic. It’s happening again. I scoop my clothes into hurried hands as I rush from the amenities.

“It fits!” Asher calls out happily as I race past her.

“Yep … Fine … Good.” I dart towards the automatic doors.

“Abigail, there are two more here for you to take,” she calls after me.

“Great. I’ll get them in the morning,” I shout. She can’t see me like this. I don’t need to be branded crazy here too.

A light breeze rushes across moist skin. My feet pick up the pace as I run to Bertha. Safety.

In through your nose, out through your mouth. I repeat this three times before feeling a sense of relief blanketing me.

I drive. Home was where I intended to go, but it’s not where Bertha stops. She glides with ease, as I pull her up under a large tree.

I open the door and climb out, the crisp open air refreshing. Peace and tranquillity wrap around me as I stroll past a lake, stopping briefly on a footbridge to ask myself, “Why here?”

Cemeteries normally give me the heebie-jeebies, but not Buderim Lawn. This place is my security—it’s where my dad now lies.

Nestling down beside a small squared rock on the ground, I run my fingers over chiselled letters.

“Fletcher McMillian.” How I miss hearing his name.

Roses and azaleas surround the stone, and as I close my eyes, the smell of the flowers and sound of the birds chirping above help me picture his face, a face I haven’t seen for nearly seven years. I see those same green eyes, the ones gifted to me, his narrow lips, curly brown hair, and bearded chin. How I miss him.

“Hi, Dad. Sorry it’s been a while.” A sudden ache fills my chest. “So how have you been?”

I pause, as if expecting an answer. I laugh. God, I’m so uncomfortable. There haven’t been many times I’ve sat and spoken to Dad since his death, but I’ve come here when I’ve needed him the most.

“So, yeah. Life,” I mumble. “Well, you’re not missing much. Mine has personally gone to crap. I did get a new job today, so I guess that’s something?” I fidget, rolling a few strands of loose hair around my fingers. “I’m not good at this. Hell! The last time my lazy arse visited, I was howling like a baby. You probably didn’t understand a word I said. Sorry for springing that on you.”

***

“Dad, you need to be here right now. You can’t be gone anymore,” I cried, holding Bella tightly in my arms as tears streamed down my cheeks. “Please, Daddy! It’s not fair. I can’t survive this.”

Bella escaped my breakdown, opting to lie in the garden under the shade of a fern. The afternoon glare from the sun was harsh. It pierced my eyes with a burn, causing more tears to fall.

“He said he loved me. He asked me to marry him. I’d bought my dress. It was perfect, Daddy, one you would have