As soon as I'm in the solitude of my car, my mind flickers back to my dream. Actually it seems to be a reoccurring dream…each time it's different, but not so different.

Once, the minister, Paulson had a heart attack at the altar when he was about to say 'speak now or forever hold his peace'. Another time, I was I walking down the aisle and I tripped on my dress. It ripped right at the seat.

But I wasn't that embarrassed though because I had on killer lingerie.

But this latest dream…

No, I think I'll call it a nightmare.

What if that actually happened? I would die if everyone on the bride's side stood up. Strike that. I would die if anyone stood up during at the 'speak now or forever hold your peace' part.

And Tommy busting through the church doors and whisking me away on his motorcycle, like some modern day Prince Charming?

Right. I doubt that'll happen.

"Just answer me that, and if it's a good enough answer, I won't bring it up again. I promise to back off. Hell, I'll buy you a damn a wedding gift and sit on the bride's side." He had said.

I must have been pretty convincing…

He hasn't done anything since he made that promise. He hasn't said anything negative about my wedding, Jax, or my and Jax's relationship. (Sophia said that Kwest said he actually bought me a cappuccino maker off my bridal registry too.) But then again, that's been pretty easy for him for the past two months. He's had a great distraction.

Yes.

He's replaced my ass.

Yes. Replaced me. Apparently he found the new love of his life. Her name is Veronica. She looks like a Veronica too. She has a natural tan and dark hair and eyes. She's gorgeous and tall…

And tall and gorgeous…

Exotic.

That's what most people would call her.

I call her what she is...

A tramp.

Ooh. I sound sorta jealous.

Ha! I'm not.

I'm pissed.

It's only been 6 months since he proclaimed his love for me. And he already found some new chick? Well, he didn't actually go out looking for her. She was practically right in his face 24/7. She was a new receptionist from the temp agency. (Sadie got an internship at a law firm…)

The key word there was 'temp', as in temporary. (As in she's not our receptionist anymore thank god.) Her modeling career finally got jump-started. I told you she was tall and gorgeous, perfectly model appropriate. And I'm genuinely happy for her too.

Now every time I turned around, I don't have to see them all huddled up in the back alley smooching.

That's our spot.

No, not the spot where he kissed me on my 16th birthday---the back alley behind the coffee shop across the street.

So! We've never actually had a moment back there before…but we could have! So it's still our spot dammit.

I do sound like the jealous ex-girlfriend…

But I'm neither his ex nor am I jealous.

I'm just—hurt.

Disheartened.

6 months.

Just 6 months since his 'confession'.

You can't be in love and out of love with someone that quickly can you?

No.

I don't think so. It was just a case of lust just as I suspected.

He doesn't know what love is.

I bet he is in love with the tramp now too—just because she remembered he liked his coffee with 3 sugars and one cream.

Yup. A tramp.

And the bad thing about it is…she's not a tramp! We all double-dated one day when Jax was actually in town. (Double date was completely unintentional, we just so happened to end up sitting at the same table at one of Tommy's new artist's club concerts and we hung out later)… She's nice! Nicer than all of Tommy's other girlfriends. Nicer than me for sure.

The good thing about it all is. I feel kind of free now that I know. I know he doesn't love me the way he thinks he does. That night in Miami, I wanted to believe what he was saying so badly.

"I've never seen anybody like you, I've never met anybody like you. I've never known any one like you."

What girl doesn't want to hear things like that from her crush of 5 years?

When it's midnight…and you're looking at the Atlantic Ocean by moonlight? And it sounds so good to you. And you're wearing a beautiful sundress made of the softest material that's brushing against your skin, making you aware of all the thousands of nerve ending per square inch of your skin.

And when he said, "I didn't ask to fall in love with you…I just couldn't help myself…" I didn't know rather to hurt him or kiss him. So I ended up doing both and they both felt so good at the time.

I'm not sure if I liked slapping him or kissing him better…

Kissing him. Definitely.

But now it hurts.

I had to be right.

He was just jealous because he's—well, he's Tommy. And he always gets that over-protectiveness thing. But it's okay…because Quincy and I are cool. He's found someone to love.

I have a fiancé.

The world is good.

Sorta.

My thoughts are frazzled as my purse starts buzzing from its spot on the passenger's seat. I know its Tommy. I contemplate ignoring it again, but I better just answer it before he has the damn S.W.A.T. team on me. It won't be very hard either considering I have a GPS system on my car. Not exactly my idea. (When I was 18, I had a run in with a stalker. After I got finished being freaked out about, I was kind of excited. You know if you start to be stalked by psycho fans you know you've come up in the music industry right.)

"Hello?"

"You're late,"

"Hey, Tommy," I say, rolling my eyes. He can at least give me a greeting before he starts tearing into me. "You know you could at least give me a 'Hello Jude, how are you doing? Is your life still hell?"

"Hello Ms. Johansen. How are you doing? Is your life still hell," he asks, in a sugary sarcastic tone. "You're 51 minutes late now,"

"Stop calling me that…I'm still Jude Harrison for 8 more weeks," I grimace, unconsciously applying more pressure to the gas pedal. "I'm like 5 minutes away."

"You're mom said you just left Olivia's studio," Tommy states.

"You called my mother?" I question, switching lanes so I can pass some slow soccer mom on the freeway.

"You weren't picking up your cell," he says in a 'you made me do this' tone. "You need to slow down girl."

I glance down at the speedometer, and slow down about twenty miles per hour. "I'm not speeding Pops."

I hear him groan, and mutter something. I smile inwardly, pushing on my cruise control to aid me in not speeding. "You need to sit tight, keep my chair warm, and I'll be there in 5-10 minutes like I said."

"You better be," he threatens.

"Or what?" I tease. I wonder what he could do. He could give me that massage he still owes me from that time he was in the hospital in Miami. I should bring that up one day soon.

"You'll see if you're not here in the next 10-15 minutes."

"I thought you told me to stop speeding though."

"You said you weren't speeding."

Sometimes, I fear he doesn't know me at all…

"I lied." I say, in a duh-tone.

"Look," he groans, loudly. "Take your time and don't speed."

Aw, he is so sweet, caring about my well being like that…

"Like you need another damn ticket to add to the collection," he jokes.

Okay.

Perhaps he wasn't caring about my safety.

"I can afford it Pops," I laugh, signaling as I take the exit ramp.

He sighs, heavily, probably running a hand through his hair. "I think I need a bonus or raise or something for putting up with a diva-ish artist who comes in late 92 of the time."

"If T gets a raise, I wanna raise," Kwest yells in the background.

"I'm not a diva," I laugh weakly, trying to defend myself.

Am I?

Of course I'm not.

"Of course you're not, Mrs. Johansen," he patronizes.

"Stop calling me that," I grumble, semi-ill-tempered. I've already told him this on numerous occasions, but his main focus is to annoy me.

"You really should get used to that, Jude," he says. "That is going to be your new name. Jude Johansen…"

"Or not," I interject.

"Oh?" he asks, sounding a little hopeful, if you ask me.

"Actually, I was thinking I'd keep my own last name or maybe get it hyphenated…." I mutter, shrugging as if he can actually see me.

I'm really just not feeling Jude Johansen for some reason. I really don't like Jude Johansen-Harrison. It sounds even more awkward than Jude Johansen. I'm not feeling the whole thing.

But if I ever went into the hiphop scene they could call me J.J.

Or not.

"I think it sounds okay," he says, "Not as good at Jude Quincy though right?"

A/N: Thanks to: cecapo3610, Erin McKinley, jackjackio, Kris10rox, geek-squad, Trigun-VashMeryl4eva, burninsecretskept, Tanya50801, FreakEmoWriter17, bookworm0408, blueyes8907, LittleZurawski, Duddley111, and Tommy4eva for reviewing the last chapter. :) Bare with me a few more parts and I just might get the inside of her head down 'n packed. Anyway, review and tell me what you thought of this part. I'd love to hear what you think so far.