Second Love

Chapter 1

I'm cold.

It's not windy...not even snowing, but I'm literally numb standing in this cemetery facing the headstone of a grave. I'm kneeling with my 3 inch high-heel black boots tucked underneath me, while tear-less tears run down my cheeks as my newly manicured nails grip and tug at the dark forest, green grass around me.

I'm alone. Utterly alone. But it's the only emotion I've understood, let alone felt in over a year.

Matt's officially been gone one year today, but it feels like 10. It doesn't matter that we would have been married 8 years this August, along with celebrating my 28th birthday. All I know is that man I loved and wanted to spend the rest of my life with, was taken from me, taken from me with only having spent 7 years with him instead of a lifetime.

I'm not angry...or least not anymore.

I showed my anger the day of my husband's killer court date and when the final verdict was given. Who would have thought that a young 21 year-old would have gotten drunk with his friends at a bar, decided to drive, and run multiple red lights resulting in the death of my husband? He was charged with vehicular manslaughter and would go to prison for 12 years. But to me, it didn't seem long enough?

I sat on the wooden pew with Matt's best friend, who was also the best man at our wedding, along with his wife Carol. He pulled me close, underneath his protective arm as the verdict rang out. I was angry that he robbed me of the future that I always wanted, a future that I worked my ass off to build, but a future that no longer existed. I was angry for his mom who I witnessed sob hysterically as her son was taken away. He not only ruined my life and stole the life of my husband's, but ruined his own along with destroying his mom's. How could one night cause so much destruction?

She leaned over, from across the room multiple times to take a glimpse at me, but I couldn't bear to look back. I was too angry...or maybe I was just too afraid that I would say something that I would later regret. But either way, I would surely go down in the history books as someone who possessed the greatest restraint of all mankind.

But here I sit. Alone. And Numb.

You think on a Friday morning I would be at the office busy with phone calls, returning emails, meeting with clients, and proving to my boss time and time again that I'm his girl to get shit done...to close the deal like I've so many other times.

But after a year of completely throwing myself in my work, sleeping at the office because I refuse to go back to my apartment and using the typical excuse that I stayed late working on a project, and becoming emotionless to everything and everyone around me, my boss has had enough.

"Hannah, you need a vacation. And it's not negotiable."

"Jake, I'm fine. I took two weeks off after Matt's funeral like HR said I should...more like forced. I came back and slaughtered our competition, just as I always do" I fire back.

"Hannah, it's not negotiable! I will not lose my closer if they can't take care of themselves-"

"Do I look like shit? Does my skin, nails, hair, attire, or my overall performance reflect in any shape or form that I'm out of place or not meeting our standards of professional-"

"Hannah, that's not what I mean and you know it! My wife and I know you better than that. You're drowning yourself in work and I will not let it destroy you like it almost did me..."

I'm silent. Completely silent. Because I know all too well what he means. Jake knows first-hand what it's like to lose the love of his life when his wife of 30 years died of cancer and how it almost destroyed him. I loved his wife. She was sweet and loving. She always brought him dinner when he worked late and complimented me on my fashion sense. But I was more than ecstatic when Jake remarried a women from his country club, who also was a widow herself. Julie was kind and brought him out of the darkness that I now find myself in but refuse to acknowledge.