‘The Airbnb emailed me to remind me of my booking,’ I had said to her on the phone. ‘The romantic trip to Paris that Joe got me for Christmas. Except he asked me to book it as he was waiting for a new credit card,’ I added, bitterness tinging my voice. ‘Now, of course, I know it was because he didn’t want Rachel to see the booking and find out about me.’ I couldn’t believe that only two months ago I’d had no idea about her; I’d thought me and Joe were madly in love. Turns out, he had been cheating on me for the whole of our six-month relationship with a woman he worked with called Rachel.

‘The utter bastard,’ Carly replied, her voice spitting venom through the phone.

‘Yep,’ I agreed, but I couldn’t be as enthusiastic. My initial rage had dulled to sadness and bitterness. ‘I completely forgot about the trip with everything that happened.’ I paused before delivering the worst part of it all. ‘It’s non-refundable.’

‘It sucks to lose the money but it would suck more if Joe was still in your life,’ Carly replied. ‘I still want to cut off his balls.’

I snorted despite my melancholy. I knew that feeling well. My imagination had run wild about how I could get revenge on my ex. That was the problem with being a writer. Your mind was always overthinking. But in reality, I’d never have the guts. ‘It’s just brought it all back, you know?’ I sighed and closed the email but then a worse one appeared in my eyeline. ‘Oh God, Gita has sent another one.’ My editor at my publishers, Turn the Pages, was increasingly getting panicky as I ignored her asking about how my new novel was coming along.

That makes two of us.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Pay back my advance?’ It was a flippant suggestion because I’d already spent most of it – first, on booking the aforementioned trip to Paris, and the rest on a deposit and the first few months’ rent on a new flat. An expense I certainly hadn’t been planning on. ‘How am I supposed to write a happy-ever-after romance after my boyfriend cheated on me? I don’t think I’ll ever believe in love again,’ I declared, dropping my head down dramatically onto my desk.

Carly tutted. ‘Look, Tessa, you picked a wrong-un, yes, but you believe in love. You always have. Remember when we were teenagers and you wore your mother’s wedding dress for our Halloween party? And what about your Pinterest board?’

I sighed. It was full of wedding inspo. ‘I can’t believe I thought Joe might actually propose on this trip to Paris.’

‘Well, you do have rose-tinted glasses on when it comes to boyfriends,’ Carly said softly. ‘But that’s why I love you. You are so optimistic.’

‘Not any more. I’ve learnt my lesson.’