I want to ring him from the moment I drive away. Did he know I didn't have a mobile phone? That it was one of the first things to go when I started running out of money? I couldn't tell him, it was too shameful.

Did he see the paperwork on the passenger seat? It was hard to know. I grabbed it as soon as I got in the car. He didn't need to know about my problems. They were for me to deal with.

A tiny part of me would have liked to have told him everything, to have unburdened myself of all my worries. I didn't do it though, it was too shameful.

I want to ring him so much. If I'd had a phone, I'd have done it within minutes of leaving. I'd have asked him if he was just being polite, if he really did like me and why the hell that was.

I was used to fighting the world on my own. I was naturally suspicious of anyone else. But with him it was different. I felt something for him I'd never felt before. It was hard to pinpoint but it was like a connection deep inside my soul, one that I didn't know was there until I drove away, leaving him behind. I missed him already. I wanted him next to me. Not just because the sex was incredible, though it was, but because I was able to pretend everything was all right when I was by his side, I just felt so safe and protected.

He had saved my life. He could have left me up the mountain to die of hypothermia but instead he'd found me, he'd rescued me, he'd warmed me back up in the most wonderful way imaginable. But then we had to part, the dream had to end, I had to wake up and return to the real world.

I wanted to speak to him more than anything.

I could have used a phone box but fate was against me. It stopped me even getting the chance.

I head to the village and feel so tired all of a sudden, I can barely keep my eyes open. I wind down the window and the blast of cold air wakes me right up. A gust of breeze blows the papers off my lap, sending them shooting around the car. Something darts out into the open and I realise a second too late that it's his card. Why didn't I put it in the glove box?

I stop and run over to the side of the road but it's gone. Any chance of speaking to him again has gone.

I can't begin to handle how sad I feel. Tears roll down my cheeks as I climb back into the car. Then the engine won't start.

By the time I get it moving my hands hurt from hitting the steering wheel, my throat hurts from swearing. I'm all cried out and my head hurts more than anything else. I've missed the house viewing. I doubt they'll wait this long. Knowing my luck, I'll get there to find it gone to someone who just turned up. If only my time in the car had lasted a bit longer. Reality had come back with a vengeance. I got a horrible feeling someone else would get the house.

That's exactly what happens.

I roll into the village and park up next to the place I'm meant to be viewing. A woman in a business suit is walking out with a clipboard, talking on the phone to someone. She glances at me and then continues talking. I hear a snippet of the conversation and my heart sinks. I was right.

"Happy to help. I'll make sure he rings you within an hour to confirm the details. My pleasure, Mr Gayle." She hangs up and smiles at me.

Gayle? I knew that surname. Think.

The business card. Jack Gayle. The son of a bitch had taken the place out from under me.

I can't move. I freeze in place as the woman walks over. "Can I help?"

"Carrie Ridge," I say, still unable to move. "I was meant to view it but I guess it's gone."

"Not just gone," she says with a grin. "Sold. My boss is going to be so happy."

She asks me if I want to look at anything else. I shake my head. There was nothing else even close to this price. Not just unavailable to rent. Sold from under me. I'm going to be homeless.

I sink onto the step of the house and try to cry but nothing comes. There are no tears left.

A shadow falls over me some time later and I look up, thinking she's back to tell me to leave. It's not her. It's Jack.

I leap to my feet. "You've got some nerve," I say, my hand already moving through the air to smack that smile off his face.

He catches my wrist and holds it effortlessly in the air. "What, for buying you this house?" he asks.

"Wh...what?" I stagger back as he lets go of my wrist.

"What job do you do," he asks. "When you're not slapping men around the face, I mean."

"I was a project manager," I reply and his face lights up.

"You're kidding?"

"Do I look like it?" I say, feeling my cheeks burn. "Why? What's going on, Jack?"

He talks quietly, more to himself than to me at first. "We really are meant to be together." He looks at me and smiles broadly. "It's fate, Carrie, it has to be."

"What's fate?"

"This. You, coming into my life now."