People spilled out onto the pavements from the neon-lit bars on either side of the road, laughing, shouting, kissing.

She drove on, leaden-hearted, until the lights thinned out again, and then on some more, meandering around the island until she found herself drawn to somewhere familiar. She swung the Mustang down a sandy lane, nosed through the fringe of pine trees, and turned off the engine as her wheels touched the edge of the sand.

And there she stayed all night, dry-eyed and empty-hearted, overlooking the beach where she’d made love beside a campfire with a make-believe man called Dylan Day.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

One look at Kara’s pale face when she walked into the villa at just after seven the following morning was enough to tell Sophie that something was very, very wrong.

Why was she here at all? Sophie frowned, trying to make sense of it amongst the happy detritus of yesterday in her head. Kara was supposed to be with loved up with Dylan. All thoughts of the blissful wedding night she'd just spent with Lucien flew from her mind as she put the coffee cups down with a clatter and half-ran across the room.

“Kara,” she cried, taking in her best friend’s dishevelled bridesmaid dress and mascara-streaked cheeks. “What happened?” Her mind raced with disastrous scenarios. Had there been an accident? “Is Dylan okay?” she pressed. It had to be Dylan. Kara’s face was ashen as she put down her keys and shook her head.

“No.”

Kara’s expression was so foreboding that Sophie’s hands flew to her cheeks and tears spiked her eyelashes. “What’s happened? Tell me, Kara. What is it?”

Kara lifted her tired eyes, realising that Sophie had misunderstood.

“Don’t worry Soph,” she sighed. “He isn’t hurt.”

Relief unclouded Sophie’s features, followed swiftly by confusion and concern. “So… what is it, then?”

Kara flopped wearily on the sofa and Sophie followed her, tight with anxiety. At that moment, Lucien appeared up the stairs, his hair still mussed from Sophie’s fingers, naked aside from his oldest, most loved pair of jeans, T-shirt in hand. The honeymooner smile dropped from his mouth as he looked at their two faces: Sophie’s worried and Kara’s something far, far worse. In a moment he was hunkered down next to them, his senses on high alert, a feeling of apprehension chilling him and overriding the warmth of the morning.

Sophie rubbed Kara’s back, willing her to explain, willing her to be all right.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

Kara put her elbows on her knees and dropped her forehead on her palms.

“Just about everything, Soph.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds, each of them wrestling with their own questions. Sophie knew that Kara had been planning to declare her love to Dylan. Had he thrown it back in her face? Thinking back to Dylan’s expression as he’d danced with Kara at the wedding yesterday, she couldn’t make any sense of it if so. He loved her, of that much Sophie was certain.

Lucien sat on Kara’s other side, deeply troubled. He knew more about Dylan than either of the women beside him. Had he been complicit in Kara’s distress by holding his silence? Could he have prevented this?

“I’ve been an idiot all over again,” Kara said at last, her eyes downcast. “A gullible, stupid fucking idiot.” She shook her head and closed her eyes. She was tired - really, really tired - and as Sophie’s arm settled around her shoulders and she leaned into her for comfort, her remaining self-possession deserted her.

“Lies, Soph. Lie, after lie, after lie.” She batted the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, furious with herself for crying over him. “I didn’t even know his fucking name.”

She knew that she wasn’t making a whole lot of sense, and she loved Sophie for listening without asking all of the questions that must be racing through her head at that moment. “I thought I loved him, and I didn’t even know his name.” It seemed ridiculous, it sounded ridiculous.

“And do you know it now?” Lucien asked, low and ultra calm.

“Matthew.” A long breath left Kara’s body, and she closed her eyes again. “His name is Matthew.” She didn’t even like saying the word. It seemed so utterly unconnected with the man she thought she knew.

Sophie frowned over her friend’s dipped head at Lucien, unsure of what was going on, and even more confused by the fact that Lucien didn’t seem all that surprised.

“He isn’t who I thought he was,” Kara said, to neither of them in particular.

“But why would he do that?” Sophie said. “I don’t understand why he’d lie.”

“Maybe he had his reasons,” Lucien said, careful to keep his tone neutral.

“Oh, he had his reasons,” Kara said, and a harsh laugh rattled in her throat. “I met them on the beach last night. His wife, and his child.”

“Oh no, Kara,” Sophie whispered, realising the extent of the betrayal Kara was trying to process. She squeezed her friend’s ramrod-stiff shoulder tighter. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. “I’m so sorry, darling.”

“Fuck,” Lucien said. “Fuck.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair and stood up, grabbing his T-shirt from where he’d dropped it and shrugging it over his head. “I’m going down there.”

“Lucien, don’t.” Kara said dully. “There’s no point.”

Sophie glanced up, knowing from his dark, purposeful expression that Kara’s words wouldn’t stop him. He grabbed his keys from the stone side table and stalked out of the door.

Betrayal burned hot in Lucien’s mind as he drove down the coast. He’d trusted Dylan too. He’d brought the man into their lives and their home, and he’d covered for him when the chips were down. But a wife, and a child? He couldn’t fathom how they fitted into the picture that Dylan had drawn for him. Lucien trusted his own instincts, and cheating jarred with everything in his mental assessment of Dylan Day. But it was hardly something that Kara could have been mistaken about. He could almost feel his brain unpicking all of the ties that he’d thought had bound them together as similar men, re-assessing, distancing himself from someone he’d thought he had the measure of.

It wasn't just injured pride at having been taken in. It cut deeper than that. Lucien had lowered his guard because he’d thought they were friends, and his life had felt richer because of it. He thumped his hand down on the steering wheel, furious with Dylan, and also with himself.