Tootsie rolls over in her bed, opens one eye, and then rolls up to a standing position. They do say dogs are often like their owners. Tootsie and I could both sleep for Ireland.
Scratching her head affectionately, I sweep her up into my arms. ‘Oh Toots, you have no idea what you missed last night. It’s probably a good job you sleep like the dead because I’m not sure you’re old enough to sit through the kind of show that we put on.’
My phone taunts me from the coffee table. Unable to hack the incessant notifications from everyone I know, and the likes and shares from everyone I don’t, I turned it off, but it’s probably time to face the music.
As it powers up, I switch on Sav’s fancy coffee maker in a dream-like state.
Nate Fucking Jackson was here.
In this very kitchen.
In me.
It’s so surreal.
The phone rings in my hand just as I’m about to take my first badly needed mouthful of rich black caffeine. It’s Savannah.
‘Hello?’
‘Thank God, you’re alive!’ Savannah screeches across the phone line.
‘Of course I’m alive.’
‘Jesus, when I didn’t hear from you three thousand times last night, I was worried you’d flung yourself off my gorgeous terrace and directly into the ocean. Conor is worried sick about you. He called me ten times. I assured him you’re safe.’
‘Dramatic, much?’ I take a huge mouthful, knowing that once I start to tell her about Nate, I won’t be able to stop.
‘Excuse me if your brother and I are worried about your mental health after the worst day of your life.’
‘You’re not going to believe this, Sav.’ Last night’s memories flash through my brain like a digital slideshow. ‘It actually turned out to be the best day of my life, as well as the worst.’
‘What happened?’ Savannah demands.
‘Nate Fucking Jackson turned up here last night.’
‘WHAT?’ Her screams are probably audible in Antarctica. ‘Nate Jackson? The movie star? Fuck. Off.’
There’s no controlling my mouth now. ‘Seriously.’ I take another sip of coffee while she processes.
‘SHUT THE FUCKING FRONT DOOR!’
I hold the phone as far away from my ear as possible while a river of mesmerised profanities stream from my beautiful friend. She’s only expressing my own exact emotions.
‘How? When? Why?’
I tell her everything. And I mean everything. We’ve been friends for twenty-five years. There are no secrets.
‘Was he as good as he looks?’ Her dreamy tone floats over the phone.
‘Better.’
‘Did you come?’
‘Four, no wait, five times.’ My vagina clenches at the superlative memories.
‘Oh. My. God,’ Savannah sighs. ‘I’ve had celebrities rent before, but no one of his status. No wonder the company dealing with the rental was so cagey and secretive.’
‘About that, I should go.’ I drain the rest of my coffee, needing at least three more before I can think straight.
