I didn't see Caitlin the next day - she was far too busy with her preparations for leaving. I sent her a text message from the train on the way home that night - some sentimental message about never forgetting and staying in touch. I knew that what I was sending sounded faintly ridiculous, but was so overwhelmed by the sense of loss that I scarcely managed to refrain from sending something even worse. That sense of loss wasn't going away either, although I rather hoped it would.

The next few weeks saw me unable to concentrate for more than minutes at a time. My thoughts kept wandering back to Caitlin; wondering what she was doing, who she was with or if she ever thought of me. It made me irritable, the not knowing; not irritable with Caitlin, but with everyone who vied for my attention and stopped me running over the recent memories and the pipe dreams; repeating them over and over in my mind.

The memory of my whereabouts when I got the text escapes me, but it was from Dean, and it simply said "Caitlin's back!" with a little smiley icon. I couldn't quite believe it - she'd said that she was leaving the project for ever! This was too good to be true. I replied and made him confirm that it was the same Caitlin and that she was actually working, and not just popping back into the office to pick up her tea bags or something. He confirmed that it was, she was and she wasn't. I grinned for some considerable length of time, and a knot of anticipation formed in my stomach.

We met on MSN again, from our respective offices. I asked how her holiday had been and she replied positively. She asked how I had been, and I replied evasively. We exchanged some small talk, and then some bigger talk and even got in a few laughs (I'm sorry I laughed at you stuck in the garage, C) before it all ended prematurely because some inconsiderate suit wanted us to do some more work.

Dean was leaving our project that day - not just for the night, but for ever. He was going to work for another company, and so there was a party in honour of his leaving (and that of someone else). It was a hot evening, the sun streamed in through the huge glass wall of the Reebok bar, party music was playing and through the glass wall, people far below could be seen gathering on the lawn, sitting in front of a huge screen which would be showing a live opera. It was the perfect evening, and not just for those reasons, but also because I knew Caitlin was coming. I don't remember her actual arrival, but do remember suddenly realising that she was there, chatting to friends. I let her talk for a while, and carried on minding my own business until she had a chance to come over. She chatted to Dean and me for a while whilst idly watching the gathering opera crowd. Then Dean made his excuses and left. I have no idea what we said, Caitlin and I. I expect I asked all about her holiday again, and I expect we talked all kinds of trivia. We ended up sharing a big bowl of Nachos with melted cheese and salsa sauce. The bowl was nearly empty before its owner indignantly reclaimed it. Neither of us had any idea that it wasn't just for general consumption, but I suspect that we'd have eaten it even if we'd known, revelling in the fact that we were being such badasses. After the Nachos incident, we sat on bar stools and just chatted and smiled at each other - I was thrilled to be seeing her again. At one point, some people from work went by and Caitlin said, "Hi - this is Dan. He's just telling me about <insert boring aspect of work here> - it's really boring," and they replied, "Well you don't look as though you're bored. You look anything but bored - as though you just want to be left to yourselves, in fact. We'll leave you to it," which made Caitlin look as though she felt a bit awkward. "I think it's time I left," she suggested ruefully, getting up. I tried to persuade her to stay, but she needed to go, and so began to circulate again, saying her goodbyes. During the epic journey around the partygoers, Caitlin caused a small emergency by losing her handbag and enlisting the help of nearly three hundred people to help find it. As things turned out, it was I who found the bag (rather heroically, I must say), following a process of targeted questioning and an unprecedented dose of good luck. Caitlin, being a bit tipsy by this point, kissed everyone goodbye on her way out. Everyone, that is, except that chap who found her bag.

I watched her leave and my heart went out of the room with her. I wasn't alone - myself, Dean and several men who had drunk far too much beer were about to go and get some food at a nearby restaurant. But I still felt exceedingly lonely. Heart pounding, I sent her a simple text, which said "You are still gorgeous!", not knowing how she'd react. We were in the Deep Pan Pizza Co by the time she replied, but it was a happy message which made me smile.

Some time after that, there was another party - this time for a birthday. Caitlin was going to that too, and we'd arranged to meet up at my office and go together, so that Caitlin could leave some of her things in my desk and pick them up later on her way home. We had been exchanging emails of titanic proportions that day, and were looking forward to continuing the discussions in the evening. The party started in Bar 38, with our arrival and apparent togetherness causing a bit of a stir amongst some of the bitchier project staff who did look slightly open mouthed until they managed to compose themselves. We remained together for the rest of the evening, through several bars and a meal (after which our leaving together was duly noted). We signed into our building, giggling like schoolgirls, before going up in the padded lifts to get Caitlin's things from my desk. The decorators were in and had moved all the furniture to the middle of the room, so some climbing was involved to get to my desk. For some reason I remember pretending that we had machine guns - I don't know if we really did. The decorators eyed us with suspicion.

Outside, I tried to get Caitlin to let me take her home. I didn't want her to travel all the way on her own, changing at god-knows-how-many tube stations. But she insisted, and being unsure of the status of our new relationship, I didn't grab her and kiss her before she could get away. God knows I wanted to though. I had to make do with touching her nose instead.