***Author's Note: This was a painful part for me to write this week. It gives some understanding to the secrets behind who Stephen was. But like a lot of writers, I tend to use my own experiences to make my characters realistic. So like Julie, I lived through what she has gone through. I'll explain more at the end. For now, enjoy.

***Remember, SHARE, VOTE and COMMENT!!*** Happy weekend everyone. -Marilyn

                                                                                Chapter 10

 Julie’s POV

The coffee tasted so good. It was reviving my system back to full speed. The coffee shop booth we were in was near the front window. I could see out onto the quiet street and highway onramp. Peter was paying the bill, and we’d be on our way soon. He hadn’t said anything else about last night. I was horribly embarrassed. I didn’t talk or even think about Stephen. It would make me cry too much to remember his funeral, seeing him in the coffin with the broken nose, his chest out of place. The parts I had caressed and new intimately enough to know that the fall off his motorcycle had crushed his inner organs. The Semi truck had destroyed my future with him. I squeezed my eyes shut. The tears were welling. I had to forget.

But it was difficult to forget my first love. His kiss on my lips, the gentle amounts of persuasion he used to finally convince me that we were fated to be together. The night I let him be my first ever. Laying on his futon, caressing my legs. The taste of champagne to celebrate buying his new motorcycle. It had been his dream to own one.

My mind jumped around too much for me to control it. The moment I realized he was really gone hit me as I was ironing his clothes to be buried in. His sister coming in to give me a hug. Both of us, crying, until we had finished preparing his burial clothes together.

The possession driving behind the hearse to the graveyard. I was playing our songs as loud as I could. My BBF Brenda, singing along, to hide the fact it wasn’t another trip to the beach, but the ride to leave Stephen in his final resting place. The music from the club we hung at mixed by my DJ friend brought me comfort on that ride. I hummed our song. One tear fell down my face, and I whipped it away fast before Peter could get back.

I grabbed the napkin, and blew my nose. I couldn’t completely escape the memories, but I could try to forget, sometimes. It was times like this that I was glad I was not at home. Nothing here reminded me of Stephen but my dreams.

“That coffee any good?” Peter walked up from his trip to the restroom.

“Yes. It’s getting me going again. Thanks for last night. I guess I needed a shoulder to cry on for a moment.”

There was a silent plea. Like he knew there was more than just the dream. “I’m glad I could help.” He slid into the booth and picked up a menu. “Any look good?”

I let out a sniff, and covered by picking up the menu too. “I think I’ll go safe with the regular breakfast. Eggs, hash browns, and bacon sounds good.” Nothing like food to relieve the hurt.

He nodded. His angular jaw was nearly shaved. His suit gave him that professional business look. His black hair waved into place from hair gel. God, he was gorgeous.

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