When I opened the door, a vision in blonde hair extensions stood before me. Petite, pretty in an artificial sort of way, and obviously pregnant.

She put her hands on her hips. "Are you Callie Shawcross?"

"Yes—"

Before I could get out "And you are?" she slapped me hard across the cheek.

"What the...?"

"You slut!"

How did having slept with two men, ever, qualify me as a slut?

"Perhaps you'd care to explain?" I said through gritted teeth.

"Did you or did you not go out with Bryce Featherstone last night?"

How did she know that?

"Well, yes, but..."

She raised her hand again, but this time I managed to grab her wrist before she made contact.

"Owwww!" she yowled. "You're hurting my arm."

"Stop hitting me!"

"Stop stealing my fiancé!"

Her...fiancé?

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Bryce, of course! We're supposed to be getting married in three weeks, and yesterday I found out he'd been seeing another woman. You!"

She glared at me. If looks could kill, I'd have been pushing up daisies. I lifted the hand I was still hanging onto, and sure enough, there was a ring. Three small diamonds in a twiddly gold setting. Almost identical to the one Bryce had given me, in fact. What did he do, get them on BOGOF?

I sighed. Perhaps I should have been angry, but quite frankly, I was out of fucks to give.

"You'd better come in."

The girl stepped over the threshold and stood just inside the door, hostility rolling off her in waves. Should I leave the door open in case I needed an escape route?

"What's your name?"

"Mandi. With an 'i.'"

"And you already know I'm Callie. Whatever Bryce has been up to, I think it's safe to say he's been playing both of us."

"What do you mean?" she asked sulkily.

"Did he tell you we were engaged for three years?"

Her jaw dropped open, then her eyes narrowed. "You're lying."

"I met him when I was sixteen at the amateur dramatics society."

"You're lying," she said again, but with less conviction this time.

I opened my desk drawer and lifted out the photos that had once been displayed on top of it. My life with Bryce was now reduced to a few snapshots in dusty frames.

Mandi's face crumpled as she looked through them.

Bryce and me having Christmas dinner at my mum's. Bryce and me ice skating. Bryce and me on his twenty-first birthday. Bryce and me at my graduation.

"I-I-I can't believe it," she said, and then the tears came.

I could hardly believe it either. I mean, I'd come to the conclusion that he was a slug, but a philanderer as well? How could Bryce have had the gall to take me out last night, knowing Mandi was waiting at home for him?

Luckily, Mum had stocked up on tissues before I went to Egypt, and I still had seventeen boxes left. I fetched one for Mandi-with-an-i.

She swiped at her eyes, then howled louder when she realised one of her false eyelashes had detached itself. It crawled across the wadded up Kleenex like a small, sad caterpillar.

"I'll make us a cuppa, shall I?"

"Y-y-yes, please. And I'm sorry I slapped you."

"Forget it."

I made two cups of tea, plenty of sugar in Mandi's and a dash of brandy in mine. Why did this stuff keep happening?

"H-h-he said he l-l-loved me," Mandi sniffled.

Half of her tea slopped out of the mug and splattered onto the carpet. I blotted it up as best I could, then patted her awkwardly on the back.

"He said the same to me. I guess he was lying to both of us."

"But he was so sweet. He told me I was his Ophelia."

That little shit! Next time I saw Bryce, I was going to stick pins in him.

"How did you find out about me?" I asked.

Bryce hadn't given the slightest indication that he'd met somebody else on either of our two recent "dates," much less that he'd moved quickly enough to ask her to be his wife. And whose was the baby?

"My friend works at the florist next to the bingo hall. You know, the one with the pink neon sign? It's got 'The Cheapest Way to a Girl's Heart' written in the window?"

I'd been past it on occasion. Bargain-basement flowers, bargain-basement men. No wonder they hadn't taken the thorns off my roses. I nodded.

"He went in there and ordered flowers, and when they were for you and not me, she texted straight away."

My curiosity got the better of me. "So, how did you two meet?"

"I used to work as a waitress in the Starlight Lounge. Bryce used to come in quite often, but it was ages before he noticed me. I put extra olives in his martini." A strip club? They met in a freaking strip club? "Then one night we were passing in the corridor outside the toilets, and our eyes met. He said that was the moment he knew he wanted to marry me."

I felt faint. How had I never seen that side of him? And how could he afford to keep visiting a strip club, anyway? He never had any money. Unless... Was that why he'd never had any money?

"How long ago was that?"

"About two years."

Two years? Two freaking years? Pins were too good for Bryce. I was tempted to borrow Eid's samurai sword instead.

Deep breaths, Callie.

"But he spent at least five nights a week with me. Didn't you think that was odd?" I asked.

"He told me he was in a touring production of 'The Merchant of Venice.' Playing Shylock. I was so proud of him."

Mandi reached for another handful of tissues and blew her nose.

I thought of the excuses he'd used with me. He had to tidy the props cupboard. Jimmy in the lighting department needed somebody to hold the ladder. Another bloody rehearsal. How could I have been so stupid?

"It wasn't only you. He led both of us on."

"I thought he'd changed," Mandi blubbed. "A month ago, he came home and said he'd quit the play. He said he couldn't stand being away from me so much, and he wanted us to be together every night. We went on holiday to Jamaica, and everything was wonderful."

Jamaica? Bryce took Mandi on my bloody honeymoon! I was going to cut off his testicles and put them through the mincer.

"He had a new project he was working on," Mandi continued. "A screenplay. The idea came to him the other morning while he was watching the news, or so he claimed. Something about Egypt. A murder mystery, he said. He wanted to turn it into a movie. Anyhow, when he was out with you, he told me he was doing research for it. Can you believe that?"

I thought back to Bryce's questions about my time away. Yes, unfortunately I could believe it. He didn't love me at all. I doubted at that moment that he ever had. He'd just been using me, although it hadn't stopped him from trying to invite himself into my bed, the little snake. "Little" being the operative word there.

Poor Mandi. He'd lied to her too, and she was pregnant. That must be devastating.

"The baby." I gestured at her swollen stomach. "It's Bryce's?"

"Oh yes," she said. "I'm at least eighty percent sure."

Sorry, what? I choked on a mouthful of tea. Okay, brandy.

"Eighty percent?"

"At least. I mean, there were only two other guys, and they both pulled out."

You know what? On second thoughts, Mandi and Bryce deserved each other. I helped her up and led her to the door.

"Do you have any family?" I asked.

"My mum and dad. They live in Kent."

"Why don't you go and stay with them for a while? Clear your head? If Bryce is serious about you, he'll wait. If not, at least you'll know where you stand."

"That makes so much sense. I'm glad I came today—you're a great listener."

Yeah, go figure. If someone had told me this morning that before I'd even had my coffee, I'd be offering relationship advice to my ex-fiancé's pregnant lover, I'd have asked them what drugs they'd been taking.

"Will you be okay getting home?" I asked, keen to get rid of her but feeling a little guilty about casting her out on the street.

"Yes, and thank you for everything."

Once she'd gone, I knocked back the rest of the brandy, drank a few fingers of gin, and went back to bed. Maybe later, I'd try this day again.

By the time the afternoon came, fury had taken hold, fuelled by a pounding headache and no doubt assisted by my alcohol consumption. As my eyes narrowed on Bryce's precious script, still sitting on the chest of drawers in my bedroom, I knew what to do.

First, I took some headache pills, and then I started spring-cleaning. And by spring-cleaning, I mean I gathered everything Bryce had ever touched, carted it downstairs to the communal garden, and set fire to it.

Kat was right. The flames were cathartic.

And so were the firemen.

When old Mrs. Carter panicked and phoned 999, the men of Blue Watch were very understanding, not to mention hot. It was a challenge to fit all six of them into my flat for coffee, but when they left, I had a big smile on my face and the phone number of the sexiest one on a slip of paper in my pocket.

Who knew? Maybe I'd even call it.

When Kat rang me later in the evening, I was feeling almost cheerful.

"How are you?" she asked. "Did you have a good day?"

"I'm just peachy. I started off by giving Bryce's pregnant girlfriend relationship advice and finished off by having a nice chat with six of Blue Watch's finest."

As I heard her choking at the other end of the line, I offered her a mental pat on the back. Thankfully someone seemed to oblige with a physical one because she soon came back.

"Can you repeat that? For a moment, I thought you said Bryce has a pregnant girlfriend?"

"It certainly seems that way. It was either that or a cushion. And it appears she's been ironing his socks for the past couple of years."

Kat sucked in a breath. "Flippin' heck. I always knew he was a weasel, but even I didn't suspect that. What did he have to say about it?"

"I haven't spoken to him yet. I'm saving that joy up for tomorrow."

"Give him a punch in the face from me, would you? Actually, I'll be home in two days. I can do it myself. Nothing would give me greater pleasure."

"Sorry, but that's my treat."

"Fair enough. Did you mention firemen?"

"Ooh, yes. You were totally right about them. Let me tell you about Steve..."