Calamity June (Wedding Wishers #2)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

T he first time he saw her, she’d accidentally glued her hands together.

“Art class gone wrong,” she said sheepishly as he slid open the curtain and made his inspection. He’d seen a lot of things in the Emergency Room, but even he had a hard time keeping the lid on his amusement that day. He remembered perching on the edge of her bed and taking her hands in his, pulling on each one as she winced. His mind ran through a list of possible treatments, solvents that would eat away at the glue while preserving the delicate skin of her hands. But another, bigger thought kept crowding in.

“How?” He closed both his hands around her glued ones, holding them aloft between them like a combined prayer.

She sighed. “It’s me, I have a problem.”

He prepped himself for the worst. People tended to tell him their biggest and most horrendous secrets. And their best lies. Her chart said she was twenty seven. What could someone so young, so pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way have to tell him? “What’s the problem?”

“I’m doomed.”

“Doomed to what?”

“Nothing, just doomed. My life is a disaster, a train wreck of epic proportions. Bad things happen to me, and I can’t stop them. In my daily life, I do my best to keep it to a dull roar. But then occasionally I try to go on a date and…” she trailed off and held up her hands between them.

“This occurred on a date?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Where’s the guy?”

“Bolted. They always bolt.”

He stared at her, perplexed. She was fresh in a wholesome and natural way, reminiscent of summer evenings and high school football games. The fact that her outward appearance was hiding a whole lot of crazy should have made him irritated, but instead it made him intrigued. His glance fell to her chart, double checking her name. “June, I’m Dr. Lawrence.”

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Lawrence. I’d shake your hand, but…” she gave a helpless little glance to her praying mantis pose.

“Right. Let’s see what we can do to get this squared away, and then we’re going to focus on that negative self-talk.”

“What negative self-talk?” she asked, seemingly unaware of their earlier conversation.

“All that nonsense about you being doomed.”

“But I am doomed,” she said, her big eyes brown and serious.

“I promise you, you’re not.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Oh, Dr. Lawrence.”

“What?” he asked, smiling in spite of her dismal tone.

“You should walk away right now, send someone else, someone hardened and cynical.”

“Why should I do that?”

“Because I’m going to disillusion you, and it’s going to break my heart.”

He smiled and set to work unraveling her hands. In retrospect, he should have listened to her warning.