Thirty Days: Part One Read Online Free PDF Page B

for shit for other people’s homes. Stuart, her soon-to-be husband, is some fancy architect. They are nice people, yet I don’t want to be here. I’d rather be home in bed.
    Mum says goodbye and, of course, tells me not to drink too much for the third time tonight. She drives back down the long driveway we came up, and I stand watching until the lights are gone. Throwing my head back, I look at the sky. The moon is full, yet dull. Clouds obscure its view as they float across a gloomy skyline. How I wish I could climb up and perch myself on the moon. Even with its doom and gloom it still looks like a much happier place to live. If only .
    “Abigail, what are you doing standing out there?”
    Trish. Here goes nothing.
    I grit my teeth before turning towards the door. “Hi, Trish, how are you?” I fake happiness, stalking forward with outstretched arms.
    “I’m good, darling. I’m so glad you could make it. Come in.” She hugs me for a millisecond, her long dress silky against my inner arm as we embrace, then steps inside. “Well…come in,” she orders when I pause.
    “Sure thing. How’s Stuart?” I mutter in an attempt to start conversation.
    “Good, Abigail. He is up on the terrace, second level. Everybody is up there, actually. I’m just going to grab some more wine from the cellar. I won’t be long.” She disappears. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be waiting for her return, or if I’m supposed to go up. Awkward.
    Looking around, I notice everything seems the same as the last time I visited. Fancy furnishings, a kitchen big enough for a restaurant, and oversized canvases hang on the walls. Abstract objets d’art, is how Trish explains the pieces. My fingers begin tracing along the red felt of their pool table, and I smile thinking about the games we’ve played on this thing. So many memories. Probably why I don’t come here often. Why am I here? It dawns on me that Sammy just said I had to come…she never said what type of function it was. Was I supposed to bring a gift?
    The staircase is now directly in front of me. Trish still hasn’t returned and many voices can be heard, so I begin my entry into this…well, whatever it is.
    “One, two, three, four, five, six…” I count under my breath as my feet hit each step. Upon reaching the top, I exhale and straighten my dress. I’m nervous. A vision of blue eyes, red hair, and pale skin confronts me. Thank fuck!
    “Abi!” she calls out.
    “Ginger,” I croak before clearing my throat.
    Sammy takes my hand in hers. “Seriously…Ginger, still?”
    “Yes.” I nod.
    “I hate it.”
    “I know you do.”
    After a few glasses of white wine, I’m relaxed. Maybe a night out, catching up with old friends is what I need. Stuart fills me in on a new high-rise that is being built on the Gold Coast. Sophie shows me the fifty ways her new rock shines under different lighting, and Ange asked me how I was after the lunch situation. I reassured her that everything was peachy. She didn’t buy it, but didn’t push the issue either.
    “Abi.” The call of my name comes from one Jackson Mosby, Sammy’s man candy. He is definitely all sorts of fine.
    “Mosby.”
    “Hey, can I talk to you?”
    “Sure thing. What’s up?”
    His mouth is moving, but I’m distracted by his seductive golden eyes, chocolate skin, and dark stubble. He is the perfect entre, dinner, and dessert of every meal. Fuck me, he is hot. He must realise I’m not listening to a single word he’s saying because fingers snap in front of my nose.
    “Abi, stop doing that.”
    “What?” I mumble with a dry mouth.
    “Spacing out like you do. Why do you do that?”
    If only he knew. Sammy knows, and she thinks it’s hilarious. Hell, every one of us girls do it. He has no idea how good-looking he is and that’s what we love most about Mosby.
    “Are you focusing now?” he huffs, running his hand over short dark strands.
    “Sorry, you have my full attention. What do you