30 Days (Lost Love Trilogy #1) - Belle Brooks Page 0,12

wanted to walk me down the aisle in. Mike has taken everything. He has stolen his words back. He’s not allowed to steal them back, is he? Why doesn’t he want me? What did I do? Tell me. What did I do? Please!” Sounds resembling a wounded animal wailed from my mouth.

I needed my dad to save me, and he couldn’t. I laid my head on the patch of grass in front of the garden and sobbed. My heart was broken, and I was homeless. No longer a girl with a fiancé because my love was not enough.

“Make this pain stop. You’re supposed to protect me. He’s broken your little girl’s heart,” I pleaded. There was a long pause. “Answer me!” A piercing scream followed. “Daddy, please.”

***

My head shakes, snapping me back to reality. It seems like a lifetime ago, yet that day is one that’ll never be erased.

“I was okay after that day, Dad. You would have been proud. Tough skin got me through.” Sighing, I wonder how in the world I managed to move on and keep going, and then how the hell I’ve ended up such a mess now. “That is until six months ago. Everything changed. Mike is getting married, and no, it’s not to me. Maybe I should gift his new bride my unworn dress … What do you think?”

A vision of Dad laughing hysterically makes me smile.

“Yeah, you’re right, not such a great idea.” Cynical laughter drifts on the breeze—my laughter.

“Hi. Sorry, are you okay?”

Turning my head, I’m greeted by chocolate-coloured eyes, a stubbled chin, and wavy charcoal hair. My mouth gapes open.

“Sorry for interrupting you.” He shakes his head. “You were laughing loudly and not many people do that in cemeteries. It’s pretty odd.”

My mouth closes. Words are hard to find.

“Hey! Are you okay? Did you hear me?”

“Talking to said laughing lunatic in a cemetery is probably not a smart move,” I finally reply through clenched lips.

He smiles—it’s a smile dentists dream of: straight white teeth behind big lips. The heat intensifies. The breeze that was wafting with ease across my back disappears.

“Touché.” He crouches down on bare knees beside me. Leaning close to my face, he whispers, “I wish more people had a good laugh in places like these. I mean, if the dead lived a great life, why not be happy?” He shifts his head back, yet he’s still close enough I see every detail of his chiselled face. The scar on his left cheekbone is no longer than a fingernail. I notice the shape of his nose, which is rounded at the end, and the smell of his breath, freshly picked mint.

“Trust me: I’m not happy about this. I’m laughing because my ex-fiancé is getting married and, well, I was just telling my dear dead dad here that I was thinking I could give my unworn gown to his new bride. It’s funny because he would have found that beyond abnormal. I’m just about to tell him about my dog, Bella, dying. Would you like to stay and join in on that heartbreak too?”

The man stands abruptly, and I notice how tall he is as he rubs his hands along the legs of his beige, cargo, knee-length shorts.

“I’ll leave you alone,” he mutters before walking away.

“Wow. Damn! Now that man was all kinds of fine.” I’m almost speechless. “Dad, did you send him over here? Come on now, love and Abigail don’t go hand in hand—you know that. Well, you would if you were looking down on me like dead people are supposed to.” Taking a long inhale, I’m unable to fathom why that man approached me. That was too weird. Taking a moment to digest what just happened, I listen to the musical melodies being performed by the native wildlife.

“Bet you like it here. I would … So, anyway, Bella died,” I continue. “I failed at keeping her alive too.”

Dropping my head, I wonder why I was chosen to receive this hex. “What’s the antidote for eradicating bad luck?” Frustration fills my words. “Does it take a handsome prince riding in on a stallion to save me, like in the fairy tales you used to read? Or a potion made by witches? I’m serious. I need to get rid of this shit because, honestly, Dad, I’m barely holding on.”

Talking through the latest crap in my life helps. I spill information on everything, from my newest panic-filled moments, to the job that commences the next morning. I don’t forget to