Let's Pretend (Romantic Comedy, Contemporary, Second Chance, Sensual) by Monique DeVere

filled her eyes. She shook her head again as she cleared her throat, stepping back from him.
    “Tommy’s right. Luc and I have divorced. I only have to apply for the decree absolute to make it final.”
    Like the effect of a hundred and fifty pound punch to the solar plexus, Luc’s breath whooshed from his lungs. He staggered backward against the wall. This wasn’t happening! Belle couldn’t be serious about cutting the last tie between them.
    “What’s going on?” Alana came out of the same room Julianne had, scratching her head and blinking against the morning light coming in from the big window at the top of the stairs.
    “Belle and Luc got divorced,” Julianne filled in.
    Alana stopped midstride. “What?”
    Julianne gestured with the hand that wasn’t planted on her hip. “That’s what I said.”
    Each time someone mentioned the word “divorce,” it inflicted a fresh wound on Luc’s heart. “Will you lot just shut up, and give Belle and myself a minute alone?”
    “Why are you lot making so much racket?” Mia’s voice signalled an addition to the crowd slowly building on the gallery landing. To Luc’s annoyance, she wasn’t alone. Her mum was right on Mia’s heels, and Gran’s door cracked open.
    Everyone started talking at once, and Luc was sure he’d heard the word “divorce” more than a thousand times in just a few minutes, which equated to over a thousand slash wounds to his heart.
    Suddenly, Tommy’s voice rang out above the female chatter.   “—and my sources also informed me that he’s been seeing Mia behind your back.” When everyone stopped talking to gape at him, he smirked.
    Mia’s cheeks filled with guilty colour.
    Luc’s blood ran cold.
    “Go on, Mia.” Tommy’s gibe robbed Belle’s sister of her composure. She sank her hands into her hair and hung her head. “Deny that you and Luc have been meeting in a posh hotel in Portobello. I dare you to analyse yourself out of that one.”   

11

    A ll eyes turned to Mia, who slid her hands from her hair down to cover her face in a gesture of regret before she finally raised her head. She was tall and elegant—beautiful to look at, and beautiful of heart.
    Belle’s throat constricted as vicious jealousy ripped through her. Luc and Mia? Of all the people she would suspect of betraying her, her husband with her sister didn’t even touch her imagination’s stratosphere. But when she paused to think about it, Luc and Mia had always been close. Did it stand to reason that Luc would’ve turned to her sister as someone to talk to? Was that how it started? Had Mia offered an ear? Then a body—
    Belle blanched; the image of them together repelled her as her stomach rolled in a very real threat to turn out its contents. Luc wouldn’t do that to her...nor would Mia...would they? What had he said when she’d suspected Mia might’ve had knowledge of their divorce? Trust me, sweetheart. She hasn’t a clue . Had that been a way to ensure she never found out about the two of them?
    Both Luc and Mia moved at the same time. “Belle, I can explain,” they said in unison.
    But the sound of Belle’s heart breaking deafened her to their explanation. She only caught random words through her mind’s haze— birthday ... surprise ... gift ... Barbados ... Private Island ...words that made no sense outside of a full sentence, but she couldn’t focus enough to listen properly.
    Mia suddenly stopped talking. She turned to Tommy, who lounged against the far wall with a gleeful smile stressing the premature lines on his face. “Who told you that bunch of lies?” She stalked toward him.
    He folded his arms across his chest. “I have it on good authority. A mutual friend saw the two of you in the hotel’s bar getting cosy.”
    Belle wanted to see Luc’s reaction to that. So far, his response seemed convincing, but his eyes would tell her. He held her gaze without flinching. “I’m telling you the truth. There is nothing between Mia