All Chapters of Champagne Kisses: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Present Day The cursor blinked steadily on the laptop screen in front of me, but I barely saw the dark pixels repeatedly dimming against the stark whiteness. I couldn't focus on writing the memo Jack requested, or even the website I had up in the background. My thoughts weren't even organized or even actual thoughts; I was just letting nothingness sit in my brain. The blank thoughts were a pleasant respite from the emotions running through the house. A hand settling on my shoulder roused me from my silent thoughts. Jack Saunders, my boss and friend, gave me a small smile. "How's that memo coming, Rachel?" he asked. I sighed. "It's not. What did the doctor say?" Jack's face fell a little. He sat down at the kitchen table next to me and played with the edge of the big wooden table. I could have worked anywhere in the Saunders' mansion, but I preferred the kitchen's warmth and sunny feeling in the mornings. The big country-style table was comfortable and I could hear the sounds of t

June 5th, 1990- Evening That night, in the tiny beach town, Jenny, Kimberly, and I were dressed to kill. Jenny wore shiny black leggings that emphasized her dancer-like legs with a purple and gold shirt, while Kimberly chose some amazing acid-washed jean shorts with a neon green tank-top. I had on a hot pink mini skirt with an oversized teal t-shirt hanging off one shoulder. We had used up a bottle of hairspray getting ready, so our hair looked fantastic, despite the humidity. We were ready to have some fun. We headed down to the main bar in town. It was called "The Pirate's Revenge" but everyone knew it as just "Revenge." Half of the venue was open to night air, music blasting out and the lights twinkling into the darkness. It was the place to be. Jenny giggled and grabbed my hand, pulling me urgently toward the welcoming lights. If those military boys were anywhere tonight, they were at this bar. We stepped inside, adjusting our eyes to the revolving colored disco lights, and the

Present Day Half of a turkey sandwich stared up at me, daring me to eat it, but I just couldn't find the appetite. I had eaten the first half, and had even enjoyed it, but my aching heart was taking up all the space in my body and I just didn't have room to fit the sandwich. I pushed the food away, the plate making a soft grating noise along the wood table. The Saunders family portrait stared out at me from across the table. It was one from when the two boys were young. Jack stood next to his father, his hair neat and eyes bright. Robbie, his younger brother, sat on his mother's knee. Despite the outward calm of the picture, I remembered running around trying to catch Robbie to make his hair lay flat for the picture. He had run around the studio like a wild child, eventually tripping and scraping his knee. I could see the edge of the bandage poking out from beneath his shorts. The table vibrated. I looked askance at the plate, wondering if I had angered the turkey sandwich gods by

June 6th, 1990 I woke up nestled on Dean's arm, using it as a pillow. We were still in more or less the same spot that we had had sex in a few hours before. He was snoring softly, which was really cute. I looked at my watch and found that it was still really early. My head was swimming a little bit and I really had to go to the bathroom. I didn't want to wake Dean, so I tried to sneak out of the bed. However, my hair must have tickled his arm, because his arm shot out and grabbed mine. He took me by surprise, and I squealed a little bit. He laughed. "Where do you think you're going? We're supposed to go surfing," he said, obviously still half asleep. He blinked, then let go of my arm. His eyes focused, and he looked me up and down. I blushed. The sun's light was much more illuminating than the moon's, and I realized that he was drinking in his first clear sight of my naked body. This man was a stranger, and suddenly I felt extremely self conscious. I pulled the sheet from the bed up

Two and a half years ago I alternated between staring at the heavy wooden doors and glaring at my watch. A notepad with a new pen sat waiting at my fingertips, but I wasn't even tempted to doodle. Dean Sherman had my complete and utter attention, and he wasn't even in the room yet. What would I say to him? Hi, Dean. I sent you a letter every day for a month, but I never got one from you. That sounded too harsh. Especially since I knew he had never gotten a single one of my letters. I had sent them out religiously once I moved to New York to work for the Saunders family, but after a month of no replies, the postman had handed me a stack of unopened letters. Something in the address Dean had given me had made them undeliverable. You could have just told me you weren't interested. Instead I waited for you. I asked my landlord to forward all my mail, but I never got anything. Not even a postcard! No, that wasn't fair either. It was very possible that my landlord just was lazy and threw