She loves that Ed can gauge her mood so easily, realising that she needs his company. She’s about to say yes when an email from Alice chimes in her inbox and her eyes scan over the request. ‘Thanks, but I’ve got so much going on here. I won’t get away till late. I might need a wine later in the week?’ Once she’s locked in the contestants, things at work should calm down for a few days.

‘Okay, but we’re here if you change your mind, okay?’

‘Thanks, Ed.’ He’s the best friend any girl could hope for.

Hours later, Darcy’s arse aches as she finally stands up to leave the production meeting.

‘Wow,’ Mel murmurs. ‘That was intense.’

Alice had been in a real mood and challenged every girl they presented for the final twenty-two. After much debate, they have eventually settled on the final contestants. Within the next few days the successful girls will be notified and have forty-eight hours to sign on to the show. They’ll be put into lockdown in a hotel in the city before the season premiere next week. Darcy should be feeling relieved, but she has a lack-of-caffeine headache and an armload of work to get through.

Her mobile lights up with a text message from Drew as she reaches her desk.

The car is packed. Just waiting to say goodbye before I hit the road.

Darcy cringes, glancing at her long to-do list. The meeting really chewed into her afternoon. She won’t get out of the office for hours yet.

Her fingers fly over the phone.

Totally swamped, can you drop by here to say goodbye?

It’s out of his way and he’ll be annoyed. It takes five long minutes for him to reply.

Ok.

Forty minutes later Drew texts her to say he’s outside. ‘Can you cover me?’ Darcy asks Mel.

‘Of course. If anyone asks, you’re on a very important task.’ She smiles. ‘Hope there aren’t too many tears.’

Darcy moves from her desk and down the hall, immediately feeling a lump forming in her throat. She hadn’t thought about crying but of course this is sad. Drew’s leaving. He won’t be there when she gets home from work, he won’t sleep next to her tonight. After almost five years of living together, he’s going back to live with his mother. The lump gets higher and higher. She forcefully swallows it down. It’s just for ten weeks, she reminds herself. Ten weeks. It’ll be fine.

She pushes through the office doors and steps onto the street. Drew’s waiting, his hands shoved in his pockets. ‘Traffic was hell,’ he tells her, making sure she knows.

She tries to ignore his mood, leaning in to kiss him. ‘I’m going to miss you.’