Page 109 of Crazy for this Girl

Only as friends.

Yeah the fuck right.

Opening the tinted door, I notice a man in dark blue jeans and a leather jacket hovering over a gravestone with his chin tucked in his chest. The more I close the distance between us, it takes no fucking time to know that he’s standing over my dead fiancée’s grave with a solemn look draped over his face.

When he notices me approach, he gives me a weak smile and keeps my gaze until I stop feet away from him.

“Hey,” he greets me as if he knows me. “You here to see Leslie?”

I am. Who the fuck are you?

I hold back on that question, eyeing him with immediate suspicion because, well, who the fuck is this?

“Friend of yours?” I ask, holding my weekly white roses in my hand, feeling the slight drizzle of rain beginning to fall.

The man, who appears to be in his late twenties, rakes his hand through his bleach blonde hair and sighs. “Nah, she was the love of my life.”

The fuck?

My brows furrow while my heart begins to thud rapidly in my chest cavity. The love of his what? I repeat his words in my head several times–like on warp-speed.

Love of his life.

I know what one of those are. I have one.

“Huh.” My eyes fall down his fitted frame. “No, shit.”

“Yeah”—he sighs, adjusting his buck fifty weight to one side of his body—“we were about to get married.”

I glance down at the headstone of the grave he’s standing over to confirm that this isn’t just a coincidence and we’re not talking about two different females here.

Leslie Anne Murray.

Born: September 14th, 1987 Died: February 25t, 2020

Beloved daughter, mother, and fiancée.

Yep.

This is the right woman, who apparently fucking lied to me for three fucking years.

“She was carrying my baby,” the man offers as if reading my mind. “We were having a girl.”

There’s no fucking way this is happening right now.

Like, dude, c’mon. Am I that much of an idiot to have not seen that my fiancée was cheating on me?

Yeah, because you really weren’t around, bruh.

“I didn’t see you at the funeral,” I emit, glaring at the side of his head.

So, I could’ve killed you.

“Couldn’t go,” he replies, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Things were… complicated.”

I don’t wanna ask, but, of course, I do anyway. “How so?”

A mirthless chuckle escapes his lips, and I’m ten seconds from shoving these flowers down his throat and watching him choke violently on them. “You’re gonna think I’m insane, but…she was engaged to someone else. Rich dude, and owned a huge company that didn’t offer her a prenup. She was gonna stay married to him for a year, then divorce him. She wanted to make sure she could take care of our daughter with the payout.”

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