Nor could I imagine us ever actually being real friends, I realized. The connection Luke and I had shared had been too intense to survive a transition to something as wholesome as friendship. I wanted other things from him—remorse, atonement. And once I had them, I could let go completely.

‘Do you want to go?’ Quin asked.

‘ “Want” isn’t the word. I feel I should go. Like taking liquid iron—it tastes disgusting but it’s for my good. I’d like an explanation from Luke. Actually, I’d love one. An apology would be even better. But he’s not going to do that off his own bat—if he was, he’d have done it by now. It won’t happen unless I kind of…insist. But you matter to me, Quin, you matter a lot, and I’m not going if it bothers you.’

Frowning, his eyes roamed over my face. ‘If it’s for your good, then you should go.’

‘How much do you mind?’

‘I don’t know.’ His vulnerability surprised me. Then he disappeared behind his macho shell. ‘Nah, I’m good, Rachel, do what you need to do. Nola says you’re stuck. So get unstuck. Get your apology. Destroy the motherfucker! So what’s going on with this soup?’ He turned to the pot bubbling on my kitchen hob and tasted a mouthful. ‘God, that’s good. Maybe some more salt?’

I shooed him away. He always interfered when I cooked. ‘Open the wine,’ I said. ‘They’ll be here in a minute.’

*

‘Promise there won’t be vampires.’ Timothy peered at Quin through the steam in my kitchen.

Quin sucked his teeth. ‘Sorry, dude. Can’t.’

‘Brown bears?’ Taryn had done her research. ‘They really are found in Transylvania.’

‘We didn’t see any last year.’ I tasted the soup one more time and decided to call it done.

‘We’ll be fine,’ Quin said. ‘Fine.’

Taryn took a cautious sip from her glass—then a second more enthusiastic one. ‘Hold on!’ She sounded surprised. ‘This wine is very drinkable. You’re sure it’s from Transylvania?’

‘Yep,’ Quin said.

‘Now for the food.’ I put the pot on the table. ‘Cumin soup, pepper salad and cozonac—Transylvanian sweet bread.’

Timothy dived on the bread. He was one of those malnourished-looking creatures who could eat for Ireland. ‘This is what they’ll feed us?’ he asked, his mouth full of food. ‘Is it some sort of earthly paradise?’

To date the four of us had done a couple of successful short trips, where no one lagged behind too badly or had bitter arguments over map-reading (a regular occurrence with hikers), so we’d decided to chance a six-nighter to Transylvania.