“Here, beautiful” Arrick hands me a plate of pancakes in the kitchen. I have been wrapped around him all morning after we fell asleep on the floor watching the New York rain and now I am sort of reluctant to stop holding on to him, even when he was cooking. My face planted against his back and my hands wrapped around that hard-muscular abdomen of his made it difficult for him to get on with it, but he didn’t try and remove me. He missed me too.

I have to uncoil for food though, or I may pass out. I am stuck between starvation and still nauseous but most likely...