I woke up the following morning to the overly cheerful sound of Sister Sledge's "We Are Family" coming from my phone. Kat was calling.

"How are you doing?" she asked. "I tried calling last night, but you didn't answer."

"Oh, I think I left my mobile at home," I said without thinking.

"Left your phone behind? Where did you go?"

"Uh, out."

"Where?"

"To a restaurant."

"Who with, Callista?"

She knew, didn't she? "Bryce," I answered, cringing into my pillow.

"Callie! How could you? After the way he treated you?"

It was a testament to modern technology that I could hear every inflection of her pissed-offness. I didn't need to stand in front of her to see the peeved look on her face.

"He came over, and he was nice to me. He vacuumed."

"He vacuumed? Oh, that makes up for everything. Callie, he left you at the altar."

"Technically, it was three days before that part."

"Stop sticking up for him. What he did was indefensible."

"I was feeling lonely."

"But Adam—"

"We're not talking about him. Ever."

I had to stay strong about this. One small mention, one tiny thought, and I'd tumble down the slippery slope.

"Callie, you can't keep avoiding the issue."

"I can and I will. So, how's Mo?"

She huffed, no doubt stamping her foot in frustration. "Getting better every day. He tried walking yesterday afternoon."

"That's great! He'll be zooming around in no time."

"I hope so. The signs are good. At this rate, he'll be able to fly in a few days, with a doctor along for the ride, of course."

"So I'll see you soon?"

"Yep. I'm missing you."

"Missing you too. Did they find any sign of Irina?"

"They've come up with an arm and part of a leg so far. They reckon Eid dismembered the girls with the replica samurai sword hanging on his living room wall."

Good thing I was lying down when she said that because I'd have ended up flat on the floor otherwise.

Kat carried on, oblivious. "He had to cut them up small to get the bits through the checkpoints without anybody noticing. It was only Captain Ibrahim and some of the higher-ups who were in on the plot."

"Enough, Kat."

"Sorry. Just thought you might like the details."

"That's more Bryce's thing. He wanted to know all about my trip last night."

Kat laughed. "Nosy bugger. He can watch it on TV the same as everybody else."

"Exactly. I told him I didn't want to discuss it."

We chatted for a few minutes, then Kat said she had to visit Mo. She promised to call again soon. Her phone was now sponsored by Vodafone, apparently, so she could call anyone she wanted for free.

Two hours later, a knock at the door startled me as I was making a sandwich for lunch. The knife clattered to the counter. Surely it wasn't Bryce again?

No, it was the local florist.

"Flowers? For me?" I certainly wasn't expecting them.

"They're roses," she said, quite unnecessarily.

And they were beautiful, or at least I thought so until I cut my thumb on a thorn as I was trying to get the card out.

Darling Callista,

Your smile is my light,

Bryce.

Well, wasn't that sweet? He really was making an effort.

I found a vase for the bouquet, then put my shoes on. I needed to buy groceries, and Mum wanted a hand with turning the mattress in the spare room. Dave was busy gardening again.

"I'm glad you're feeling better, dear," she said when I turned up on her doorstep. "It's easy to pick up nasty things abroad."

Like sword-wielding serial killers and men who break your heart? Absolutely.

"It's onwards and upwards from here, Mum. Things can only get better."

I only hoped I spoke the truth.

Against Kat's advice, I went to a play with Bryce that evening. He clutched my sweaty hand in his clammy one, while we watched two people dressed as World War II soldiers speak mainly in Italian for almost two hours.

"Fantastic, wasn't it?" Bryce said as we left. "They really captured the atmosphere of the battlefield. Such tragedy, such drama."

They were on a battlefield? Where were all the guns? The taller of the pair had been carrying a lamp, and the other had a set of cutlery that seemed to be a metaphor for something or other.

Bryce took advantage of my silence and kept talking. His monologue on method acting in the nineteen forties continued most of the way home, and I tried to block it out as I arranged my thoughts. This date hadn't been fun, and last night's dinner wasn't great either. Just okay. Bryce and I had nothing like the easy camaraderie I'd felt with Adam after only a handful of dates.

With Bryce droning on beside me, I came to the conclusion that I'd rather have spent the evening cleaning the bathroom. Why had I stayed with him for so long? Had I been blinded by love? Was I worried about appearances? Or was I scared of being alone? Truthfully, it was a little of all three.

"Callista?"

"Huh?"

"You zoned out again. I asked what you did when you first realised Kat was in trouble?"

"I told you, I don't want to discuss it."

"But darling, a problem shared..."

"It's not a problem anymore. It's just something I want to forget."

Why couldn't he get the message?

"I saw Katerina on the news again today. She seemed happy."

"Yes, she is. She's coming home in a few days."

And there would undoubtedly be fireworks between the pair of them.

"You spoke to her?"

"This morning."

"I thought she'd stay in Egypt with that man of hers."

"He's coming too."

"Where are they staying? With you? Isn't your flat a bit small?"

"They're both sleeping at Mum's."

"I should visit. Offer my commiserations. I could take a fruit basket and some tickets to my upcoming play."

I was sure Mo felt quite bad enough already without having that inflicted on him. If it was the one Bryce had been rehearsing for before I left, he was playing a suicidal coal miner. Hardly uplifting.

I murmured something non-committal as we pulled up outside my building, and Bryce got out to open my door for me.

"Shall I come up for coffee?" he asked.

In the past, that suggestion would have made me shiver with delight. But today, I cringed away instinctively, the same way I would have if a wasp was hovering nearby.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"It's nothing we haven't done before, darling."

"But that was then and this is now. I'm sleeping alone tonight."

If there was any shred of doubt remaining that Bryce wasn't the man for me, his reaction erased it. He stomped back to the driver's side, got behind the wheel, slammed the door, and zoomed off. So much for being a gentleman.

At least the evening had helped to clarify things for me. Given me the closure I needed. My post-aborted-wedding mind hadn't been exaggerating—Bryce really was a twit.

The decision was made. No more Bryce. The right man was out there, somewhere, and I'd wait until I found him. Or until he found me.

I slept soundly that night.

I'd only been up for five minutes the next morning when there was a knock at the door. I glanced at the clock. Almost nine. I wouldn't be able to sleep in like that for much longer—soon I'd have a classroom full of kids waiting for me at half past eight every morning.

I had mixed feelings about returning to work. Unlike some people, I'd never thought of teaching as a calling. It was more that graduate positions were difficult to come by and they'd been having a recruitment drive. I figured I'd teach for a few years before I decided on my dream job, but I was still none the wiser.

I tied a robe around me and padded out of the bedroom. Who was it this time? My mum? Bryce?

I cracked the door open.

The answer was neither of them.