I woke up to the dulcet tones of Earth, Wind, and Fire asking if I wanted to groove tonight.

And to an empty bed.

“Jévon?”

I opened my eyes, confused by the figures of Snoopy and Woodstock dancing around the sheets. A heavily worn and dog-eared copy of an old Agatha Christie novel lay to my left instead of the six-foot-four juggernaut of a man next to me. I lifted the sheet, expecting him to be underneath like a common bugbear. ...