I call it an evening after my normal two glasses of wine and leave Jane, Maggie, and George to finish off the bottle.

I shower in the top floor bathroom and go through my nightly routine, maybe the only thing that hasn't changed in my life, thank goodness.

By the time I settle into the small but comfortable bed that smells of my childhood I grab my phone I had left on the nightstand on it's charging cable.

Seven unread text messages. Four missed calls. And ten new notifications on Instagram.

I let out a tempered sigh and close out the Instagram notification, dealing with that for later. Then open my text messages

Three from Ty.

T: You are not in London?

T: You little shit! How have you not told me!

T: Helllloooooo answer your phone!

T: I'm coming home Monday for three days. You can't ignore me then. Love you.

Ty's messages are slightly overwhelming but I can't help but smile when I read them.

I quickly send off a message to be sure I'm not woken up by any other messages from him.

Me: Yes, I'm here. A lot going on. Needed to come home. See you Monday baby bro.

The next two are from mom and Gemma wanting to be sure I landed safely despite I know they've seen Maggie's post. So I promptly send them each a message that I made it safely.

The last message has me starring at the message in confusion.

Ollie: Hey

Was this message intended for me? We don't text, not ever. I close the text message sure he meant to send it to someone else and then open my missed calls.

One from mom, one from Ty, one from Dad- who I will not be returning. And the last from...Oliver?

"What the heck?"

I quickly adjust the glasses on my face and stare at the missed call. He called an hour ago, and the text message was from three hours ago...I could understand if a butt dial occured back-to-back but this has me thinking perhaps this was intentional.

Surely, there is some sort of mistake so I open the text messaging app and type a quick message of 'Hey' in return so he's aware when he gets my text that he's called or texted the wrong person.

I return my phone to the end table and remove my glasses and rub my tired face with my fingers, groaning loudly.

My phone rattles twice next to me, causing my heart to leap and my stomach to roll.

Rolling to my side I shove my glasses to my face and check my phone.

One unread text message from Ollie Thomas.

What the heck...

I can't open it quick enough.

O: Why are you here?

Me: Came early. Is everything ok?

O: Yes, fine.

I just stare at the last two words still completely confused as to why he's texted me. Perhaps, it was an accidental text and after I responded he now feels obligated to respond. Ollie's always been a considerate human. With this clarifying thought I return the phone to the end table and roll back over. The urge to take a peek at his Instagram grows as I keep my eyes intentionally closed.

He's been off Instagram for the last six months, but after this strange exchange and missed call my curiosity is nibbling at me to want to check it.

Thankfully, my stubborness wins over my curiosity and before I cave into falling into that never ending hole of Instagram, I fall asleep.

My presceduled alarm wakes me at 9 am. I'm groggy from the jet lag and rather late night last night with Maggie, Jane, and George. But get up and slowly get moving.

I put on a pair of black leggings, a breathable shirt, and a black rain jacket. By the looks out my small window, it seems rain is in the forecast. Passerbys walking on the sidewalk have umbrellas in hand while some are only wearing their thin rain coats.

I smile at a cute old couple slowly shuffling by with their small fluffy dog. The old man dressed in trousers, and a bowtie holds the leash while the woman wearing floral pants and a matching sweater tied around her neck grips his arm.

My heart melts watching them as the little dog sniffs around zig and zagging quickly in front of them.

I can't wait to get out there.

Inside the organized closet I grab my black walking shoes and shove my feet inside. I stuff my phone into the zipper pocket of my rain coat and head to the bathroom.

My face is tired, and maybe even slightly swollen. I splash some cold water on my face to hopefully help and put my contacts in from my toiletrie bag.

I leave my face bare knowing my lashes and eye brows camouflage into my skin. But I don't care. This is my vacation, I'm going to do what I want.

I grab a thick fist full of my ginger curly hair and pull it back into a messy low ponytail.

All I need is a hat.

Oliver had moved out but I'm sure he still has some of his hats here. I doubt he'd mind.

I make one last stop in my room to grab my ear buds then scamper down to the second floor where the other bedrooms are.

I enter the last bedroom across the hall from Gemma's and step inside, seeing nothing has changed. Still messy. Even his bed in the corner of his room is still unmade.

Strange...

I'm sure their cleaning lady, Gladys wouldn't skip his room?

No matter, I'll just grab a hat and be off.

I cross his room avoiding piles of shoes, clothes, and who knows what else and open the closet that is an even more of a disaster.

Oliver has always been messy. His idea of cleaning when we were growing up was shoving things under his bed or in his closet.

There's a hanging filing system with hats in individual cubbies so I grab a black one with a NY logo that looks worn and adjust the strap in the back.

I fix it to my head and pull it down by the bill of the hat, "What are you doing?" A deep voice asks me.

I gasp loudly and jolt right into the closet door frame, tripping on the gathered clothes at the base of the door.

Hello Ollie Thomas!

Tall, dark, handsome.......and BRITISH or course!