Crown's Chance at Love

CROWNS’S CHANCE AT LOVE

Copyright © 2014 by Mayra Statham

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Cover design by Rebecca Berto of
Berto Designs

Formatting by Max Henry of
Max Effect

DEDICATION

PROLOGUE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY-ONE

THIRTY-TWO

THIRTY-THREE

THIRTY-FOUR

THIRTY-FIVE

THIRTY-SIX

THIRTY-SEVEN

THIRTY-EIGHT

THIRTY-NINE

FORTY

FORTY-ONE

FORTY-TWO

FORTY-THREE

EPILOGUE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

As a little girl I remember staring out the car window, realizing that every car that passed by had a different story, wondering what they might be. How everyone might be connected.

That is the idea of this series:That even when we might not realize it, we are all connected.

Rob, without your support and incredible patience this would not have been possible. No matter the project I jump in, you are always on the sidelines cheering the loudest for me. I love you babe. Thank you for believing in me as much as I believe in you, and for being so incredibly patient and understanding.

To my children: Never stop dreaming and always go towards whatever makes your heart happy. No matter what.

Sabrina Miller

I smile.

I know they are talking to me, yet I am not really paying attention. I mostly just smile and nod …a lot. Saying
thank you
when people hug me and say they are sorry. For the most part, today had gone smoother than I had imagined it would. His brother and my sister had done a beautiful job giving the eulogy. Part of me felt guilty I hadn’t tried to speak, but I didn’t think I could have the strength to speak without losing it.

Now everyone is hugging me, pulling me close, some whispering, others crying their condolences. That part is bothersome. I never had an aversion to people being close to me, hugging me, but right now every time someone pulls me close I stiffen up as I hear them tell me words of what they must have thought were words of encouragement. I mean I know people tend to say sorry in these situations, but in all honesty, they had nothing to apologize for. They weren’t the ones driving that morning.

It’s weird how completely numb I am, almost like I am in a fog. I haven’t really felt anything since the moment I opened the door and there were two police officers standing there with serious looks on their faces. I know that isn’t good. It isn’t good that I can’t feel anything, not anger or sadness just numbness, but I know that I have to just keep moving.

Dory’s voice from “Finding Nemo”  keeps repeating in my head “just keep swimming, just keep swimming”. Not for me mainly, but for my kids. Sean would laugh if he knew Dory was the only thing in my head that made me keep moving, the only thing that fights my overwhelming need to just throw a blanket over my head and lay still and ignore everyone here in the house.

It would be that or maybe throw glass after glass watching them smash and when I’d run out of glasses, I’d start to throw plates like some out of control guests at a Greek wedding, or the scene from that movie “Drop Dead Fred” where Phoebe Cates’ character starts to throw all those breakables because she likes the way it sounds when glass shatters.

You see, my life was shaken up like a snow globe in a toddlers hand. Eleven days ago started off like a completely normal Tuesday. Waking up to Sean, my wonderful husband, kissing me goodbye, me half seeing his beautiful smile because I had left my glasses in our bathroom instead of on my nightstand, me mumbling be safe.
Be safe.
Funny how I always used to say that, much good that did.

Waking up about an hour later to get myself ready, then waking the kids up to get ready for school, I had just got back from dropping them off about twenty minutes before the doorbell rang. Up until then everything had been routine. This was our life. We were happy. I’m not going to blow smoke and say our life was perfect because it wasn’t, but it was pretty dang great. We had our ups and downs like any marriage, but we loved each other, we made it work.

We had been married in our early twenties and had moved from Pasadena, Ca to Berkeley right before we had our first child. Berkeley was our home for most of our marriage. We had had three beautiful kids, our share of ups and downs, and in one instant, one wrong turn down the wrong street and it was all over.

I had had my coffee in my hand and I walked to the door, I didn’t even look through the peephole like I usually did. I remember opening the door smiling because when I saw their faces it felt like my heart went ice cold. Like suddenly instead of blood running through my veins, ice cold water started to pump through, hitting every nerve in my body as it flowed through me. Everything went still. I placed the coffee mug down on a side table, it didn’t even drop and shatter into a million pieces like it does in the movies when people get bad news. No the mug was safe, it was just my soul that was in limbo.

My heart had silently shattered in those small quick moments when the police officers told me Sean had been in an accident and that he was dead. Dead, hmm all I can think about is how completely final it all was and how it can happen completely unexpected, like on a Tuesday morning.

Now eleven days later, on a Saturday, everyone is at my house.  I smile at some faceless relative as they hug me, telling me what a wonderful man he was. All I can do is nod, deep in my own thoughts, even as I feel everyone’s stares on me like they are waiting for me to give a big dramatic show. They are waiting for me to break. My parents keep telling me to sit down, but honestly, I never really followed orders before I got married, why would I follow them now that I am a widow? Hmm widow, the word alone makes me think of a big ugly spider, and that makes me think of Sean, he hated spiders.