‘What do you mean, you can’t make it?’

Keeping my voice even was impossible, and I sounded as horrified as I felt.

‘Abby, I am so sorry, I have been sick all day. I wanted to leave it for as long as I could, hoping I would feel better, but I just can’t keep anything down.’

Sienna sounded awful, her voice weak and weary. I really wanted to be a good friend but I was standing out the front of the condo, in an evening gown, waiting for a limousine to take me to a premiere. It wasn’t like she was bailing on a night of ice-cream and bad TV.

‘Look, don’t panic. Carl Moran knows you’re coming – he will tell you where you need to be. Just think of this as a really luxurious trip to the cinema.’

‘With celebrities, paparazzi and film crews?’

‘Thought you didn’t get starstruck.’

‘I don’t!’ I said, way too defensively.

‘I’m sorry, Abby.’

‘It’s okay, it’s not your fault. Just get better, okay?’

‘I want a serious debrief tomorrow morning, if I haven’t perished through the night.’

‘Okay, deal.’

I ended the phone call just as a black limousine rounded the corner of the street, heading in my direction to pick me up – at least my ride hadn’t bailed. I shook off my nerves and stepped into the car. I was all dressed up with somewhere to go, and I was going to embrace it fully. I would rub shoulders with the stars, practise my poses, schmooze with the elite, totally judge others’ fashion choices and report back to Sienna tomorrow – because that’s what friends do.

The limo crept forward along Hollywood Boulevard, the muffled squeals and flashes getting louder and brighter as we edged closer. I sipped on a steadying champagne, only to panic and check my lipstick – thankfully, there was none on my teeth. The door opened on the car in front to a cacophony of screams and yet more flashing bulbs. I tried to peer through the heavily-tinted glass, wondering what all the fuss was about, until Dom, my driver, enlightened me.

‘Oliver Drake, ma’am.’

‘Ah, yes, well, that makes sense.’

I couldn’t help but laugh, thinking how disappointed they were going to be to see me alighting from the next limo; it was the equivalent of the unpopular kid being picked last for the sports team. But there was no time to care – it was my turn to make a grand entrance, and I was too busy worrying about how I’d get out of the limo without tearing Sienna’s dress or landing flat on my face. I was way out of practice; the Logies was the last similar event I’d been to, and that was a backyard barbeque when compared to Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.

The car stopped, and just as I had at my auditions, I took five seconds of grounding time, reminding myself to breathe. Casting my eyes down, I positioned my dress, then heard the door click and pull open.

Go.

There was no way of preparing for this: the blinding flashes, the calling of my name – wait, how did they know my name? The people behind the cameras had obviously done their homework, their calls attempting to drown out those of the fans packed behind barriers, hoping to grab a selfie with a celebrity. Stepping onto the walkway, I knew I was a nobody, but I still stood there, hand on hip, my smile bright, pivoting and posing at various angles. The cries from the barriers signalled that they obviously thought I was a somebody. Not wanting to miss an opportunity, they yelled out, ‘We love you,’ and ‘Can you please sign this for me?’

It was confronting, and beyond anything I might have imagined. During my time in Hollywood, my expectations had so often been obliterated, yet this was something else entirely. It was like the world was moving around me in slow motion, the flashes, the yelling from ushers, the microphones shoved at me while large square lights shone hotly on me; it was utterly overwhelming. I knew I should have been enjoying it, putting particular care into my pose or smile, but I hadn’t even hit the red carpet and I already felt completely at sea. I watched on as Oliver charmed and worked his adoring fans like a professional, like he was born to do it.

I simply stood frozen, blinking and staring. My pose was lost, my smile small and weird. I didn’t know what to do or where to stand.

A man with a headset screamed at my side, ‘Move on or get off.’

I stepped forward, feeling like cattle being herded to the slaughter. Just walk, walk through, walk on, lift your head and look forward. The moment I was finally able to lift my eyes, I stopped, blocking the red carpet once again and sending the man with the headset into a fit of rage. But I cared little about him, or about the flashes or the incoherent, maddened screams; all I could do was stare at the vision in front of me.

Standing there, at the top of the red carpet, was Jay, dressed in a gorgeous tailored black suit and black tie.

The world fell away. As the shock rolled through me, everything faded to white noise and shadow, and all I could do was smile. I watched him walk the wrong way down the carpet towards me, breaking all the rules as only he could. It was easy to think I imagined it, but when he grabbed my hand and looked down at me for a long moment, I knew he was real. He lifted his darkened gaze to the tiny man with a big mouth behind me.

‘She’s with me.’

‘Oh, sorry – I didn’t – nobody told me.’

I laughed, following Jay, walking along, stopping and smiling for paparazzi, leaning into him and posing for photos, taking in every bit of this crazy, surreal scene. We were ready to move through the last section, nearly home free, when I stopped. Jay looked back at me, his eyes questioning.

‘You’re on a red carpet.’

Jay’s brows rose as he inspected his feet. ‘So it would seem.’

‘You said you would never do that.’

‘No, you said that.’

Jay stepped closer, cupping my face, caring little for the cameras or the crowds, for who people might think he was, or I was, because in that moment it was just us.

‘I’d walk over fire for you, Abby Taylor.’

I would say it was in that moment that I knew, but that would be a lie, because not so deep down I had always known. Jay was not Scott. My fear of betrayal was not born from his reluctance to be in the spotlight, from his need to be anonymous – if anything, I had known better than anyone the need to be a nobody, even if just for a little while. No, he was different. Jay Davis was the real deal.

‘Good, because I’m going to need a leading man.’

Jay smiled, pressing a kiss to my forehead, squeezing my hand tightly as we walked on.

‘I can’t wait to tell Sienna about this.’

Jay laughed. ‘Why don’t you tell her now?’

I followed his gaze to see Sienna and Billie standing up ahead, screaming out our names.

‘Jay, Jay, this way!’

‘Abby, please, can I grab a selfie? Please, please, please?’

‘Abby, who are you wearing?’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ I said, moving towards them and whacking them with my clutch. Jay was their saviour, coming up behind me and pinning my arms to my side.

A very healthy-looking Sienna snatched my clutch from me. ‘Surprise!’

‘What am I going to do with friends like you?’ I shook my head, turning towards Jay, who seemed just as pleased as the girls were.

He scooped his arms around my waist, lifting me onto my tippy toes.

‘How about live happily ever after?’ said Billie.

I wrapped my arms around Jay’s neck, smiling brightly at the idea.

‘Now that’s what I call a Hollywood ending,’ I mused.

Jay shook his head, lowering his lips to mine, ignoring the whistles and catcalls from our idiotic friends. ‘No, it’s only the beginning.’