The house itself is absolutely gorgeous—a huge square Georgian pile sitting in perfectly manicured gardens that spill over into extended grounds. There’s a pool, two tennis courts, an actual maze, and endless lovely spots for losing yourself in a book. Inside, it’s luxurious if somewhat over-furnished, accessorised to the hilt with festoon blinds and curtain tassels and horsey oil paintings.

Every single surface—walls, beds, soft furnishings—of the airy twin room that Tabby and I will share is covered in a cheery rose print that continues into the ensuite bathroom. It’s full-on but decidedly charming. It’s clear that, despite the extreme wealth the Sullivans have, their house is a proper home. I allow myself a small private giggle at the thought that perhaps it was the aggressive florals that drove Brendan to furnish his penthouse in floor-to-ceiling taupe.

We’re a party of thirteen this weekend: Brendan, Tabby and me; Athena and Gabe; Brendan’s parents, Ronan and Maeve, who are lovely; Mairead, her husband Peter and three kids; and a guy Brendan introduces as “my mate Dave”. Dave seems slightly out of place, and I struggle to work out why until Brendan pulls me aside and explains that Dave is, in fact, a highly trained paramedic with a fully equipped private ambulance parked discreetly in one of the many garages. If Tabby suffers the slightest setback, Dave will spring into action and, worst case, transfer her to the nearest A&E.

I’m absolutely blown away that he’s thought of this—that he’s gone to this much effort and expense to guarantee Tabs’ wellbeing while keeping the setup discreet enough to ensure she doesn’t feel self-conscious. It’s a level of detail that would totally have evaded me. That said, I’m relieved to know a trained medic is in our midst in this rural location. Brendan’s bought me peace of mind this weekend, and it’s as wonderful as it is alien.

Brendan was fab on the drive up here, putting on a Disney playlist to which the three of us proceeded to sing our hearts out. I had one of my moments when the other two were singing Hakuna Matata, and I’m not sure if it was dissonance or downright fantasy, but it was sweet and cruel all at the same time.

This could be your future, the little voice in my head said. A gorgeous man to share these moments and make everything better. Brighter. A father figure for Tabs and absolutely everything for you—best friend, lover, confidant. Partner. As if he’d read my mind, he looked over at me mid-song and smiled like he was having the time of his life.

Brendan Sullivan, billionaire playboy, singing along to The Lion King with a single mum and her little girl and looking perfectly content.