We found a twenty-four-hour corner store and as well as the water bought what we always did: Tim Tams for him and a mini tub of Pringles for me. Then we settled on a bench set back from the breeze off the water, still with views of the harbour. I wanted to be exactly where I was. How many times could I have said that in my life?

‘Can we talk about what happens at home?’ Patrick asked, lightly.

I crunched down on my crisps and, licking the residue from my fingers, said, ‘I don’t know. Can we?’

‘To some people, this could seem like a lot,’ he suggested.

I grinned. ‘Good job I’ve been taught by an incredibly handsome man that it doesn’t matter what other people think.’

He searched my face as if looking for something I wasn’t giving him. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But also …’

‘Do you want my last Pringle stack?’ I asked, and it had exactly the reaction I had hoped it would: he laughed, and the tension of the moment was broken.

‘You’re an idiot,’ he said.

‘An idiot you fell for,’ I retorted.

‘You said you’re obsessed with me in your text to Kezza, so I don’t know who the bigger fool is.’

He reached across and swiped the can from me, gleefully relishing in my shock as he pawed at the last of the pack. I shook my head as if I couldn’t believe him.

‘I’m going to ask them to put you in economy on the way home,’ I said. ‘See how you like that.’

‘I don’t believe you.’ He laughed, brushing his hands together to get rid of the Pringle debris. ‘You couldn’t go half an hour without coming to the back of the plane to find me.’

‘I hate that that’s true,’ I said.

‘I see through your crap,’ he told me. ‘I see through it all.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Okay, you, that’s enough cockiness. You’ve reached your quota.’

He winked at me suggestively. ‘There’s a joke in that sentence somewhere …’ he said. ‘But we can’t do it here.’

‘Patrick Hummingbird, you’re the horniest man I’ve ever known.’

‘Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet,’ he said, standing up and pulling me with him.

The sun was already coming up when we got back to the suite.

‘You pull this face,’ Patrick told me as he lowered me down onto the sofa. ‘And it makes it very difficult not to want to take your clothes off.’

There was something different about his energy. He was more feral, rawer than I’d ever experienced him.

‘My face is just my face,’ I whispered, trying to be adorable.

‘No. You know what you’re doing. You know exactly what you’re doing.’

I giggled.

‘See?’ he said. ‘You’re seducing me.’

He tipped my chin up and we kissed again.