Three weeks had passed by. Three weeks of awkward good mornings and strained goodbyes. Three weeks of a continuous cycle of staying out of each other’s wavering eyes and stolen glances.

He slipped into his new role with ease. The team responded well to his natural kindness and genuine concern for every family and member of staff working with the most complex aspects of human nature. He would stroll in casually dressed every Friday carrying a bag full of biscuits and cakes. No ceremony, no desperate attempt to claw attention or to be liked, just a sincere expression of thanks for our hard work and commitment through the week.

Every day that passed, I found myself drowning in memories and re-living conversations, scenes of happier times and stories of the hope that we’d once held in our hands and threaded through our fingers. The more I allowed myself to reminisce, the more my work suffered. I was behind on deadlines, and reports would come back covered in red pen where changes or additions had to be made before he could sign them ready for the next case conference.

One week when I found myself particularly distracted, I decided to work in the quiet of a Saturday morning. The office was quiet and resting; I loved the peace. The phones didn’t ring, case files would be locked away, and computer screens were dark and tranquil.

Until I heard movement in the corridor.

The rattling of his key gave him away, as did the sound of his office door closing. The unexpected ring of my phone a couple of minutes later confirmed I wasn’t alone.

‘I didn’t expect anyone to be here,’ he said without a good morning or even a simple hi.

‘Neither did I,’ I replied, both hands clutching the phone that contained his voice.

‘I’m just getting up to speed with things. I’ll probably be here a few hours.’

‘Me too.’

‘If you need me, I’m here,’ he said after a few seconds of silence.

There was so much I could have said. Instead, I found myself clutching the phone as the noise of the dialling tone sounded mockingly down the line.

His presence that morning had really fucked up my plans to get up to date with my paperwork. I caught a glimpse of him as he went into the photocopying room, then got a proper look when I heard swearing and loud thumps as he banged the machine that was now frantically beeping. As I walked across to offer help, he looked like my Jamie again. He was wearing a grey top, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and navy chinos rolled up at the ankle. No socks today, just trainers and a cap pulled low on his forehead. He took my breath, or at least half of it as I struggled to think straight so close to him. Closer than we had been in almost two years.

‘It’s temperamental. Colin used to say it must be a woman, and I obviously used to punch him in the arm for his sexist remark.’

Jamie laughed beautifully, a sound so familiar yet completely new in frequency and tone. ‘Of course you did, spitfire.’

Fuck. Spitfire. Heart. Melting. Help.

I smiled at him helplessly.

After sorting out the paper jam, the copier was good to go. ‘Nothing to it once you know how.’

‘Looks like we’re both trying to get some work done without bumping into each other,’ he smiled.

‘I’ve been distracted. I just needed some quiet space without you trying to knock into my brain.’

‘Knock into your brain? Good,’ he said, pulling on his ear before finally crossing his arms.

‘Not good. Your red pen across my reports tells me it’s not good.’

‘I did wonder if you were struggling. I mean, I know from…before…you could write a great report.’ He pushed up his sleeve that was already perfectly in place.

‘I just need to get my head together.’

‘Knowing you’re at the end of the corridor is hugely comforting,’ he said urgently. I smiled and my smile ignited his. ‘What I meant was I like to know you’re there,’ he shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. ‘You’ve never left me, so I don’t know why I'm saying that.’ I shook my head and pulled my lip under my teeth. ‘Mixed messages? Yeah, sorry, I’m a prick,’ he sighed deeply, his hand reaching up to his neck nervously before he walked into his office and shut the door.

I sat down at my desk and hugged myself to stop the shiver that was now blowing its way down my spine. I had never found one man so insanely arousing. His words, his looks, everything about him could make my bones feel light and my skin two sizes too small. It was dangerous ground to think of him in any way, but to think of him under my fingers was perilous and critically discombobulating.

I decided the only way forward was to start some reports on the computer. I always worked better with music. It was never a distraction but always a way to keep focused. One Adele album and two Beyoncé songs later, I still hadn’t made a dent in the report, choosing to pass the time going through emails and sorting my diary. Classic distraction techniques when avoiding a bigger task. During a break between songs, I heard Jamie call my name, but I pretended I hadn’t heard him and continued typing.

‘Can you hear me?’ he asked softly. ‘How about I drop another twenty-five cases on you?’ I tried to hold in a smile as I realised he was testing the volume by trying to get a response. He didn’t talk for another few seconds, but when he did, I felt alive again. ‘I’ve missed you so much. I don’t know how to tell you that without raising any hopes, so I keep my distance, but you’ve got to know it’s killing me,’ he sighed. ‘I don’t think I can do this. There’s still such a pull. I can’t ignore it, but I have to.’ I could hear the shake in his breathing. ‘Abi,’ he said, ‘I should have kept a tight hold on what we had.’

I wanted to reach out and touch his voice. There was only one word to describe it. Calming. It made me feel like I was home. I couldn’t remember a time when I last felt that way.

I made sure I pulled the earphones out when I heard him call my name much louder than before. I looked up to see that the man I thought I knew so well had turned into someone I barely knew anymore.

‘It’s almost three and the caretaker wants to lock the place up,’ he said.

‘Oh, sorry, I had music on.’ I held up my earbuds. ‘Everything OK? You look miles away,’ I said, wondering how the fuck I was going to stand up on wobbly legs.

‘I’m OK.’

‘Just give me five minutes to pack my stuff,’ I said.

Delay standing up. Try to distribute your weight evenly through your legs to prevent a collapse situation.

‘Do you still do the soundtrack of your life?’ It was like his voice had taken over his brain, which had given no thought to his words before saying them out loud.

He remembered. Take a deep breath.

‘Unfortunately, yes. Still haven’t grown up.’

‘And?’ he asked.

‘Oh, to describe now?’ I turned off the computer, completely ignoring that I was still staring at blank pages, unsent emails and empty Word documents after six hours of overtime.

I slung my bag over my shoulder, walked past him and said, ‘“Someone Like You” by Adele.’