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HALLIE

I think I’m losing my mind.

I swear my dog smells like Conan.

I’ve been home three days now, and that strong, masculine scent is still clinging to his fur.

Sliding my hands along my curves, this black dress looks cute. It hugs me in at the waist and shows just enough cleavage. I have to look professional for Lily’s art gallery, but hot enough to go clubbing after.

“Right, Bertie. Be good for Lisa.”

He comes and sits by my feet. For some reason, Georgia said she couldn’t look after Bertie again. So I’ve found a new dog-sitter for the time being.

I have no idea what time I’ll be home. Once me and Lily start, sometimes we don’t venture in until four a.m. But I can’t wait to see what she’s pulled off, she’s been so excited about this new artist.

I grab my bag and do one final sweep of lip gloss before I head out to wait for my cab.

I guess this is what I have to get used to again. A normal, single life.

How long will it take for me to stop thinking about Conan every free second I have?