PROLOGUE

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Living in New York City. My dream come true. But it was supposed to be "our" dream. My husband Steve and I lived in Pittsburgh and we had always talked about settling here before he reached 35. He was a neurosurgeon and I was a phlebotomist at Mercy West. We scrimped and saved, cutting down the $500 a plate dinners for "Save the Squirrel" campaigns or whatnot, and made it! He was 34 and I was 31 when we moved here. Park Avenue, nonetheless.

Then driving home from work one day, he was hit by a car and died instantly. The medics found the other driver, who died also, was texting and his last text read: Why

WHY was is to important that you had to text while you were driving? WHY couldn't you wait? WHY DID YOU KILL MY HUSBAND?"

I was enraged! At the hospital, I demanded to see the driver's body. My friend Jen had to physically hold me back, and 2 nurses came to help, but with my anger and the adrenaline pumping through my body, I shoved all three of them off of me like rag dolls. People in the hallway were backing away, covering their mouths. And why not? I would be too, looking at a madwoman.

Finally, Steve's colleague and best friend Dr. Richard Connelly rushed up to me and I collapsed in his arms, bawling, unable to catch my breath. "He's dead...Rich...ard! He's..."

"Shhhh...I know Chels." He whispered, as he held onto me, rocking me slightly.

The next thing I know, I'm on a hospital bed waking up from the sedative I was given.

Jen sat beside me, holding my hand, smiling at me as if I were a little baby just waking up from a nap. Her long blond hair was a mess from all of the chaos today, and she looked really tired. I smiled sadly at her. "I'm sorry I flung you against the wall, babe."

Leaning down to kiss my cheek she grinned and said, "After 25 years of being best friends, you should know that was not the worst you've afflicted on me!"

Before I drifted back to sleep, I mumbled, "I love you Steve," and a tear fell down my face.

****

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