When There Was You (California Dreaming #2)

Prologue

D espite a restless night plagued by memories better left in the past, I damn near spring out of bed like a released jack-in-the-box when the hotel phone trills.

My wake-up call. Through a fog of fatigue, I shuffle into the bathroom and into a hot shower, closing my eyes for a precious minute as water cascades across my skin.

As I reach for the miniature bar of soap, my gaze snags on the diamond sparkling on my ring finger and emotion lodges in my throat.

Washing the planes of my body, I soon disappear into another memory…

one where Mick caresses every inch with his strong, callused fingers, massaging shampoo into my hair, and whispering You’re perfect and I love you with reverence.

I’ve got a whole cadre of shower memories with both Mick and Remy, many X-rated. When they attempt to surface in all their glory, I shoot them down with a mental Photon Torpedo from the starship Enterprise .

But the echo of their faces persists—their enigmatic smiles, the glint in their eyes, the cigarettes clamped between their sexy lips—and with it, a piercing pain I haven’t experienced fully in years. With Mick, it’s disappointment. With Remy, lingering anger.

But today isn’t about them. It’s about the friend we lost before his time. The lesson is stark and jarring: There but for the grace of God go us .

A bitter huff escapes me. I turn off the shower, retrieve a bath towel, and haul it back behind the curtain.

Clinging to the remaining steamy warmth, I wrap the coarse material around me tightly, a physical attempt to keep the memories from soaking through my skin.

Shaking my head, I rub the towel vigorously against my body, the truth refusing to be smothered.

Today is very much about Mick and Remy. And me.