I've obviously woken Nessa up when I bang on her door five minutes later; her eyes are half-shut and her hair a tangled mess. She's a far cry from her usual perfect self. "Where's the fire?" She mumbles, rubbing at her mouth as if she's checking for drool. Classy.

"There's no fire," I reply, pushing past her into her room. "There is, however, a very frustrated man downstairs right now."

"Well, maybe you should just shag him then, and leave me out of it," she says jokingly, looking slightly confused.

"I'm not talking about Owen," I snap. "Kieran is here, Vanessa!"

Her face goes pale at my words. "What?" She asks faintly, dropping down onto the bed. "He's actually up here?"

"What the hell is going on?" I ask.

"Fuck," she whispers in response. Helpful.

I'm annoyed, and for a few reasons. Firstly, Nessa is meant to be my best friend, but has clearly been keeping something from me. (Yes, crown me "World's Biggest Hypocrite" if you want; I don't particularly care right now!) Secondly, my brother and I might not be particularly close, but she's still somehow worried him enough to cause him to drive more than 200 miles to see her in person.

And, thirdly, I'm feeling thoroughly cock-blocked right now.

I'm not saying I necessarily planned to have sex with Owen tonight. But I certainly wanted to continue the kissing behind the closed door of my hotel room. Maybe a bit of light petting. Perhaps lose some of our clothes. And then . . .

Do not let your mind wander, Mirren!

Instead, Owen is now trying to calm Kieran down in the bar, and I'm standing here trying to figure out what the hell is going on with Nessa.

Oh, and I had to basically hide behind a massive potted plant in reception while Owen spoke to Kieran, so 1) my brother wouldn't suspect anything was going on between us and 2) I could sneak away to speak to my friend and warn her. The receptionist was giving me some serious side-eye, and with good reason - I must have looked a little bit crazy.

When did my life turn into such a farce? It feels like The Mirren Show is very abruptly slipping into Fawlty Towers territory. I'm not sure I can handle any more slapstick in my life.

And I'm very worried about my best friend.

"Nessa, you need to talk to me," I say now. "What is happening with you and Kieran?"

"He asked me to marry him," she blurts out.

And suddenly I realise why she's freaked out so much.

Most girls would probably be happy in this situation, granted. But Nessa was engaged before, to her childhood sweetheart, Max. They'd been happy together for years, but almost as soon as wedding bells were on the cards, their relationship just . . . fell apart. 

They'd barely started planning their big day when he decided to run off with a woman from his office, and it took Nessa a long time to get over it. I spent many nights talking her mentally off a ledge while we gorged on chocolate and romcoms, trying to convince ourselves there were actually still decent men out there somewhere. 

"Oh," I say softly. I sit down beside her and squeeze her hand. 

"He asked me on Saturday morning, just before we left, and I . . . Well, I panicked and asked him to give me time to think while we were away. I just . . . I don't want to ruin what we have.

"And I've felt so guilty for feeling that way, and so conflicted because I do want to say yes, but I'm scared it will kill our relationship. I don't want history to repeat itself!" She wipes frantically at the tears trickling down her face. "So I've been avoiding his calls and not replying to his messages, which probably was stupid of me. I've really wanted to talk to you about it, but with Kieran being your brother I felt so awkward even bringing it up, so I've just basically been stressing inside my own head and trying to act like nothing is wrong." She starts to cry in earnest now. "Fuck, it feels good to get that all out."

"You can always talk to me," I assure her, wrapping my arms around her. It seems Nessa has spiralled mentally over the last few days, much like Owen did that summer ten years ago.

"I think that's another reason why I've been so invested in you and Owen," she sniffs. "It's been a good distraction for me."

"Especially with you forgetting your Kindle," I joke, and she laughs through her tears. "Does Kieran have any idea why his proposal threw you like that?" I prod gently.

She shakes her head. "No. I really need to tell him, don't I? I've always just glossed over the Max thing; haven't really admitted how much it scarred me. I just didn't expect him to propose . . . It all seemed so sudden."

I can't help but snigger at her last sentence. "Yeah, because you've only been together for three and a half years . . . Talk about a whirlwind romance."

"You know what I mean." She rolls her eyes at me. "Where is he? I need to go and talk to him. I still can't believe he came all this way." She winces suddenly. "Oh crap, what if he's only came to take his proposal back? Or break up with me? I don't know if I could blame him!"

"I don't think either of those options are a consideration," I tell her honestly. "The guy adores you. He's in the bar with Owen. And you should probably change out of your pyjamas first."

She nods frantically and starts wriggling out of her shorts. "Wait . . ." She pauses, and a glimmer of 'the meddler' appears. "How do you know where he is?" Realisation dawns. "You were with Owen, weren't you?"

Busted isn't just the name of a British boy band  . . .

"Don't tell the others!" I beg. "And, for the love of God, don't tell Kieran."

"Girl Guide's promise," she salutes. "But you need to give me all the details tomorrow. Should I send Owen your way when I get down to the bar? Subtly, of course?"

"That would be . . . Nice," I say weakly, and she laughs.

"Good luck," I tell her, as we part ways in the corridor. "Remember, whatever decision you make, I'm still here for you!"

Back in my room, I'm at a restless loss for what to do. The minutes tick by, and I wonder if Owen is going to pop by. It probably depends on whether Nessa can get the message through to him or not. I've just got ready for bed, changing into my pyjamas - a silky vest and matching shorts - when I hear the knock at the door, and his smile was definitely worth the wait.

"Hey," he whispers, hazel eyes crinkling oh-so-cutely around the edges. He's still wearing the jeans and white t-shirt he had on earlier, but he must have popped to his room first to grab his glasses. He steps forward and kisses me, lips warm and eager against mine. "Is it weird that I missed you just now?" He confesses as he pulls back, brushing a thumb lightly along my cheek. There's the slightest trace of self-consciousness laced through his words."I felt like we finished on a cliffhanger before."

"Cue the Eastenders theme tune," I giggle.

"Hopefully, it wasn't that depressing." He chuckles as he eases me gently back onto the bed. Then he kisses me again, gently and tentatively. He tastes of sweetness and whisky, and he feels like . . . Mine, somehow.

There's an chasteness to this particular kissing session that wasn't there earlier. Which possibly seems odd, given we were technically in public when we first kissed, and now we couldn't be more private. But somehow, despite the fact we're keeping everything very much P.G. right now, the intimacy levels seem to be off-the-scale.

This, I realise, would probably have been what the early days of us dating would have been like, had we actually got together back then. It's like we're trying to recapture the innocence of that time. Trying to pace ourselves. Delay the inevitable.

"I really like you, Mirren," Owen whispers finally, pulling back and cupping my face again, studying it as if trying to memorise it for an exam. His eyes are drowsy but sparkling behind his glasses, and those slightly asymmetrical dimples are out in full force. He's almost too adorable to exist, I think dizzily.

Unable to resist touching him, I run a hand along his scruffy jawline, and he shivers happily. "Even though I was an absolute arsehole to you for the first couple of days?" I ask.

"It didn't stop me liking you," he laughs. "I just had to hope you'd come around eventually and admit you liked me too." He steals in for another kiss, like he can't get enough of me.

And I understand exactly how that feels . . .

I hope you're enjoying the story! 💜