“You stay as long as you like.” I nod at him while Cher stares at me.

“Okay, but if we are going to be like Three’s Company, you can’t flip out when we have random men coming in and out of our lives.” I close my eyes at Cher’s lack of tact.

Brody frowns as if that did not occur to him.

“Fine, same applies to me.” His eyes dart to mine. I don’t have the heart to tell him I don’t care who he hooks up with.

“Raven will be fine, and I highly encourage it.” She nods, setting her drink down and looking around at the picturesque view.

Heaven. At least my version. I look over at the brick street, the sun kissing it with a slight glare, the smell of flowers hanging from the balconies filling the air.

This is where the wealthy come to play and dock their yachts. Celebrities can walk the streets without being harassed. All I can do is drag myself out of bed and stumble down to the beach, where I fall asleep again until Brody wakes me up to turn onto my back.

I do need to work on my Spanish. Even though most everyone speaks English, I’m determined to master it since this is going to be my home. Brody staying might actually be a good thing. He can help pay rent after the six months are up.

“I’m gonna set up my office on the balcony.” Brody smiles. “I need to write my thesis paper, and the view is perfect.” He stands and stretches.

“Oh, perfect,” Cher says dryly as she looks at me, like I can do anything.

A Ferrari speeds up the narrow street, and my face flushes and heart races. I lean forward, grabbing the table.

Please be him, please.

He gets out, and of course, it’s not him. Not ever gonna be him. Because Jett is in Los Angeles with my mother, getting ready to marry her.

“God.” I sigh and let go of the table, blinking away the tears, which are a regular occurrence. Lately they’ve been part of my daily routine.

Wow, that guy doesn’t even resemble him. Aside from the dark hair, he looks nothing like Jett.

This is getting ridiculous. It’s like he’s haunting me. Either that, or I so desperately want him to appear, I think I’m seeing him everywhere.

Clearly, deep down inside, I hoped he was going to come after me. Which is pathetic, and I will never voice it, but even after everything he did, I still burn for him.

I’ve woken up every night sweating. It’s horrible and torturous, and I’ve only now given up. I frantically use my fingers to fuck me, as I see him, feel him… let him guide me to my release.

And I hate him for that.