My heart thumps hard against my ribcage. Alex in Sydney? Next month? In the same building as me?

Alex and I used to work together at a celebrity weekly magazine in London – he was the head of the art department and I ran the picture desk. I heard on the grapevine that he has an even more senior role now, overseeing art direction for the whole of Tetlan, the publishing company that produces the women’s style magazine where I work.

I read his email again. His tone is hard to dissect. I can’t tell if he’s being cold and detached or respectfully distant. How does he even know where I work these days? Does he keep tabs on me? I shouldn’t care about any of this, but I’m alarmed to find that I do. Massively.

My eyes come to a rest on his sign-off.

I hope all is well with you.

What was going through his mind when he wrote that?

‘Hey, you ready?’

I whip my head around to see Christie, a colleague from the Style desk, smiling down at me expectantly. We’re about to do a casting for a photoshoot. Her face falls at the sight of my expression. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ I lie, pushing out my chair and getting to my feet. ‘I’m all set.’

Am I going to see Alex again? Do I want to? I’m not sure I should be pondering the answer to that question.

As I gather my things together at the end of what has felt like a very long day, I overhear a group of people discussing their options for Friday night drinks venues.

‘You coming, Bronte?’ Louise, the features editor, calls from across the office.

I shake my head reluctantly. ‘I can’t. Next week, though, definitely!’ I try to inject some enthusiasm into my voice and feel bad as she turns away. I had planned to join in tonight – I’m quite new to this job and I haven’t fully integrated yet – but I need time to get my head together. The ferry ride home to Manly still won’t be long enough.

Today has been a struggle. I must’ve read Alex’s message fifty times, but I haven’t come close to formulating a reply. I need to talk it through with Lachie first. What will he say when he discovers that his old nemesis has been in touch?

Lachie and I still live in the same flat in the same northern beach suburb where we settled almost four years ago. Lachie was moving home to Australia permanently with his expended visa, but I was only supposed to be visiting for Christmas before returning to my job in London.

Then a certain someone rang and told me that he’d left the wife he’d married right in front of me and wanted to be with me instead.