Two days. It’s been two days since I last saw Cilla – the longest two days of my life.

“So…do you want me to line up any more girls?” Sheryl asks as she comes into my home office with a tablet in her hands. “Or have you decided you don’t want to—”

“Forget it,” I reply.

“So…just to be clear, that’s a no?”

“What’s it sound like, Sheryl?” My mood is terrible. Sheryl does the little hair flip she does when she’s feeling insulted, and I sigh. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. No, don’t interview any more girls. I’ll figure something else out.”

“Okay.” I can tell...