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“Hi,” I say.

The sound of her voice steals my breath. Not something I was expecting.

“Hello?” Sarah says.

Words fail me. The silence deepens, and my heart rate picks up as I wonder if she’ll put the phone down thinking this is a crank call. What if she’s changed her mind and doesn’t want to contact me at all?

“April?” Her voice catches. The desperation in her tone is clear.

My name shocks me back into the present. “Yes,” I croak out.

“My goodness… I can’t believe… Is it really you?”

The words come out stuttering as if she’s overcome with emotion.

“Hi,” I say, closing my eyes and focusing on the words.

“It’s been so long. I assumed you… sorry,” she says, stopping herself.

“I only just found out you were looking for me,” I say. Not wanting her to say anything else. Not yet.

“I can’t believe it’s you.”

When her voice catches, the words rush out. “Can we meet?” I ask.

A sob resounds down the phone, and I brace myself at the surprise flood of emotion that hits me. There’s silence for a moment before Sarah speaks again.

“I would love that,” she says softly. “You have no idea how much.”

The details Cal sent me said Sarah lives in Yorkshire with her husband and two children.

“I can come to you,” I say. “We can meet up in a hotel, neutral ground.”

“A hotel is fine, although my husband, Tim knows all about you. He’s been helping me to find you. He’ll be so excited,” she says, her voice picking up pace, as if she too is excited.

The news shocks me. I don’t know what I was expecting. Part of me wondered if I was going to be her dirty little secret.

We spend some time going backwards and forwards. I tell her I can come up in a couple of weekends’ time. I just hope that’s okay with Cal.

When we finally end the call, it’s as if someone has lifted aheavy weight off my chest. I pick up my phone and dial Cal’s number.

“Hi,” I say. I hear muttering in the background. “Sorry, are you in a meeting?”

“I am, but don’t worry. Give me a second.” I hear him moving and a door close.

“I could have called you back,” I say.

I should have thought about how busy he is.

“No, I’d rather listen to you than that bunch of boring old farts,” he says, making me giggle.

“Seeing the average age of your company is about thirty-five, I’m not sure boring, or old, fits the bill. Remember, I’ve been around them.”

He chuckles, and my heart soars.

“What do I owe the honour of this mid-lunchtime call?” he asks, and I remember I called him. This man sends my hormones racing, and I lose all rational thought.

“Yes. Sorry.” I stumble over my words.