Page 43 of Meet Me at Sunset

‘Yeah, I’m sure things will be wrapping up soon. It’s a big day tomorrow. Let’s get some sleep.’

‘Goodnight, darling. Sleep well. We’ll see you in the morning – we can’t wait.’

Camille kissed her parents on both cheeks then let herself into her suite. Béatrice and Albert were staying in the next room at the Palacio del Sol Radiante, and she’d shared a taxi back with them. Camille could have stayed at the Fontaine family villa, but she preferred her own space in which to get ready. Besides, all their friends and relatives were staying at the hotel, and it felt like one big party. Andre would come and collect her in the morning – it was French tradition that the groom presented the bride with her bouquet, which he’d chosen himself – then he would drive her to the venue in a classic cream Mercedes.

It had been so generous of Andre’s parents to offer to host the wedding at their villa. In fact, they’d been incredibly generous when it came to the entire day. Camille had designed and created her own dress, and her parents had given her a small amount of money towards the wedding, but with Andre’s extravagant tastes it barely covered the wine budget. She knew that was all they could afford and was incredibly grateful for it, but Andre’s parents were swallowing the bulk of the costs. His family were considerably wealthier than hers, and she knew they wanted the occasion to be spectacular. Camille appreciated the gesture, but she also felt rather uncomfortable with such generosity, and didn’t want to start off married life feeling indebted to her in-laws.

She was about to undress and sink down onto the bed, but found that she couldn’t settle. Her mind was racing, adrenaline rushing through her body after the excitement of the party, and she needed to wind down.

It wasn’t even that late, and it was still warm – it had been unseasonably hot for the last week, Andre’s mother had told her. Acting on a whim, Camille turned and walked out of the door, heading down the back stairs and outside into the gardens.

She followed the winding pathways, small lights along the flower borders offering just enough illumination to guide her steps. The waves crashed in the distance, and in front of her lay a dazzling sky, a riot of purples and dark oranges, a glorious twilight, which sparked with thousands of pinpricks of light from a descending blanket of stars. Camille stared up at the sky above. Looking at it brought everything back into perspective; even though Camille was about to embark on the biggest day of her life, she was a tiny part of the universe, her decisions and actions insignificant.

She heard a stone skitter on the path nearby and caught the scent of cigarette smoke. She wasn’t concerned – just surprised. She’d thought she was alone out here.

Then he took a step forwards and she saw him: Nicolas, alone in the darkness, staring out at the black sea. His features were silhouetted against the moonlight, but Camille could read the sadness on his face. She hesitated, wondering whether to turn and slip silently away, but before she had a chance, Nicolas looked up and saw her.

‘Camille,’ he said softly.

Camille smiled cautiously and moved closer. This was Nicolas, she reassured herself. Her long-time friend, her former lover, her colleague that she saw every day at the Camille Andre offices. So why does tonight feel different?

‘I thought you’d be asleep by now,’ Nicolas said. ‘Big day tomorrow.’

‘I think it’s the adrenaline. I thought I’d take a final walk before bed.’

They looked at one another, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between them. Nicolas was still in love with Camille, and she knew it. But it was as though they had an unspoken pact between them never to discuss it.

‘Meet me at sunset,’ he said. ‘Remember we always used to say that to each other.’

‘Of course. How could I forget?’

Nicolas didn’t reply. He stubbed out his cigarette, and she came to stand next to him, both staring out into the night. The night air was infused with the scent of jasmine and the incessant hum of cicadas.

‘No second thoughts?’

Camille smiled sadly and shook her head. ‘I love him, Nicolas.’

Nicolas nodded slowly, digesting her words. ‘I know. And if you’re happy, then that’s all I want for you.’

‘Damn it, Nicolas, I want you to be happy too! What about Juliette? Do you think she might be the one? She’s very beautiful.’

‘No, I don’t think she’s the one. But I didn’t want to come alone.’ Nicolas cleared his throat. ‘I just want you to know that if you ever need anything – and I mean anything – I’ll be there for you, OK? I’ll always be there for you, Camille.’

‘Oh, Nicolas …’ Camille linked her arm through his and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, feeling safe and secure and protected. Being with Nicolas was different to being with Andre. With Andre, she could shout and scream and throw plates at his head, then the next moment they were in bed, passionately making up, the cause of their argument forgotten. That had never been her relationship with Nicolas; it ran deeper and defied explanation. He wasn’t showy, in the way Andre was, but his every action showed he adored her, always putting her feelings before his. Camille was certain that if they’d stayed together, he would never have cheated on her.

Andre, on the other hand, was a force of nature, and she strongly suspected he’d been unfaithful to her before. Women were drawn to his magnetic presence, arousing Camille’s jealousy, and bringing out her competitive instincts. Andre wouldn’t have dreamed of demeaning himself by cooking a meal for her, but he had no hesitation in taking her out to a Michelin-star restaurant. Camille loved the glamour and grand gestures that accompanied her life with Andre, but Nicolas was always there, strong and steadfast, and Camille was grateful for that. Perhaps that sounded cruel or selfish, but she couldn’t help how she felt.

Right now, with his solid presence next to her, she could sense how much she meant to him. They’d once been as close as two people could be, and they would never lose that connection. He was as familiar to her as her own heartbeat, and she clung to him for a moment, closing her eyes and letting the scent of cigarettes, Guerlain aftershave and Marseille soap wash over her. Her head slotted perfectly against his shoulder, and everything felt so easy.

‘I love you, Camille,’ Nicolas said simply. ‘Since the first moment we met. And I always will.’

Camille lifted her head and met his eyes. ‘I know. And I love you too, I always will, but—’

Nicolas placed a finger over her lips, cutting her off. ‘I know I’m not enough.’

Camille nodded, sadness and guilt washing over her as she realized how unhappy she was making him. ‘I have to go,’ she whispered.

Nicolas unclasped her. ‘Yes. You’ve made your choice.’