We lay, his hand dancing across the small of my back and down between my legs. When I let out a little giggle he took it as an invitation to stay there, and before I knew it …

‘Orgasm number three,’ he said, as I rolled off of him sweaty and satisfied.

‘Do you remember those mugs printed with World’s Greatest Dad?’ I said.

‘Uh-oh,’ he replied. ‘Is this about to descend into some Daddy Issues stuff?’

‘Gross,’ I said. ‘No.’

‘Sorry. Please continue.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘I was going to say I could get you one of those mugs with “World’s Greatest Fingers” printed on it, but you’ve ruined it now.’

‘No!’ he said. ‘Don’t say that! I really want that mug!’

I reached out a hand and patted his stomach. ‘I’m sure you’ll redeem yourself.’

He rolled over to his front and extended himself for a kiss.

‘I can’t believe we only have one day left,’ he said. ‘How shall we spend it?’

‘So far, so good …’ I grinned.

‘I’ll say.’

‘Let’s shower and go to Our Place for breakfast. Take the maps, maybe see if the barista recommends anything?’

‘You had me at “let’s shower”,’ he said, rolling off the bed and holding out a hand for me. ‘I’m all for getting clean so we can get dirty again.’

It took us two hours to finally leave the hotel. Breakfast had finished at the café, and they already had the lunch menus out.

‘So you don’t regret bringing me along with you?’ Patrick asked, as we finished off our coffee and headed, hand in hand, for a meander along the water.

‘Oh, of course I do,’ I said, trying to keep a straight face. ‘Worst decision ever. Can’t wait to get home.’

‘No,’ he said, mock-shocked.

‘Patrick,’ I said. ‘Shut up. Bringing you was the best drunk decision I ever made.’

‘Out of how many drunk decisions, is the question,’ he joked.

We got gelato from a little hole-in-the-wall (a cup for me, a cone for him), and followed our noses from one beauty spot to another. We held hands, we nuzzled into each other’s necks, we stole kisses, and I let myself enjoy it. I didn’t question it, or try to understand what it would all mean once we were home. Was I really going to come back from all this with … not a boyfriend, but a … something? Because honestly, if all of what Patrick and I were was contained solely in Australia, if what happened in Aus stayed in Aus, I could live with that too, I think. Being away did exactly what it was supposed to have done: I was free.

‘You look thoughtful,’ Patrick said, from where we sat on the grass beside a huge willow tree, our faces hidden from the sun and our legs sticking out of the shadows.

‘Hmmmm,’ I said.