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Sexy Pirate: Scarlett please! Don’t make me fly back there right this minute.

So, he has flown away then, he didn’t just leave my house… he left London.

The thought leaves my chest feeling heavy. I don’t like it one bit.

Sexy Pirate: You’re big trouble lady.

A new message comes in as I'm holding the phone and it vibrates in my hand.

Sexy Pirate: You do realize that I can see that you're reading my messages, right?

Oh, shit! I forgot all about that. I've been meaning to change that on my setting.

I start to reply but have no idea what to say.

Sexy Pirate: I see the little dots I know you're there Scarlett.

Fine! Cheeky bastard!

Me: Sorry about that, I was having coffee with a friend and thought it would be rude to ignore him to check the messages.

Sexy Pirate: What friend?

What was his name again? Oh, yeah!

Me: Max

Sexy Pirate: Max?

Sexy Pirate: A male friend?

Me: Yes, Max. Lovely fellow, but then my hands were full, and well I couldn’t exactly reach the phone.

The mobile buzzes in my hand.

Incoming call. Sexy Pirate.

“Sexy Pirate, huh?” I tease him. My mood significantly improved.

“Thank God you're all right! And that's your question?” He huffs out. “Your words not mine. But yes, sexy pirate which should actually read angry pirate. Bloodied mad as hell pirate.”

“I’m fine.” I reassure him, flattered that he was concerned.

“Who is this Max chap?” He growls.

“Some random fellow in the coffee shop. No need to get your shorts in a twist.”

“Do you have any idea how worried I've been?” He breathes out on the other end, and I feel a bit guilty for teasing him, until I’m reminded he could be on the receiving end of my anger.

“Not half as angry as I've been.” I inform him, standing to pace my office.

“Look Scarlett,” his voice is heavy, “I didn't want to leave. I had to leave. Come home. It’s my mum, she's sick and- look I really don't want to have to do this over the phone.” A heavy sigh fills the line.

I can hear the pain in his voice and I know that he must've left for good reason, but the fact remains that he left. I'm not about to be someone's doormat.

But instead of firing back, I say the thing that any decent person would. “I'm sorry to hear that Cohen, is she okay?”

A long pause before he whispers, “No, but she will be.”