Chapter Two
Ryan arrived at Julia’s apartment the next morning much later than he’d planned. On returning home the previous night, both he and Caleb had crashed, lack of sleep catching up with them. He rang the bell, but as he’d expected, there was no reply. Finally, he returned to their apartment to find an agitated Caleb.
“Where have you been?”
“I went back to Julia’s apartment. Either she didn’t return home or she’d already left for work.” Hell, he hoped it wasn’t the first alternative. The idea of Julia in another man’s bed kicked like a cranky mule. His hands itched with the need to hit something. Someone. “I’m not an invalid. I made it there and back without getting lost.”
Caleb scratched a hand through his scruffy black hair. “I was worried.”
“The doctors in Germany said I was fine. Most of my memories have come back. Hell, if I can remember the words to our songs there’s nothing wrong with me.”
No matter how much he denied it, Caleb was babying him and smothering him in the process. Ryan knew his friend worried, but he was good, or he would be as soon as he connected with Julia again. “When are you going to Tauranga?”
“Tomorrow.”
“And you’re staying a week?”
“Yeah, Jeff and Neil have both gone home to Wellington. They rang while you were out. They’ll be back the week after next so we can knuckle down and sort out new songs for the album.”
Ryan absorbed the info and nodded. That gave him a week to do his own thing up here in Auckland. “I might get stuck into the song writing.”
“And Julia?” Caleb passed him a coffee.
Ryan cradled the mug in his hands. “When I catch up to her I’ll talk, tell her what happened and ask her to drop the divorce proceedings.” He half-expected Caleb to jeer at him, to inform him he was a fool.
“Chicks on tap get old after a while.”
Caleb’s comment surprised him into a beat of silence. “Neil and Jeff won’t agree with you.”
“Think how much worse it’d be if the public discovered we wereFrench Letters.”
“True.” Ryan sipped his coffee. “It’s great walking down the street without anyone recognizing me.”
“Yeah, there’s a lot to be said for mystique and stage makeup,” Caleb agreed. “Do you have any ideas for songs?”
“I have half a dozen done already.” Ryan couldn’t help the spurt of smugness that crept into his tone.
“When? Wait, they’d better not be friggin’ soppy ballads.”
Ryan shrugged, knowing it would annoy his friend.
Caleb let out a pained groan and clapped a hand to his head. “No! Say it isn’t so.”
“One or two.”
“But you’ve written rock songs?” A plea.
“Of course.” They were some of his best work, but the ballads, inspired by Julia, his mystery woman, were beyond brilliant, even if he said so himself.
“Go get them. You’ll have to wait until your girl finishes work before you can see her, anyway. We might as well make use of the hours and get a jump on the arrangements.”
At four thirty, Ryan stood and stretched his hands above his head. He groaned, his muscles protesting after sitting for so long. “Time to catch up with my wife.”
“I’ll give you a lift. I intended to take my car out of mothballs and give it a run anyway.”
“You’ll leave as soon as she arrives? Give us privacy.”
Caleb inclined his head, grabbing his keys as if Ryan had already agreed with him. “Come on.”
