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Like a baby monitor?
She squirmed on the bed slightly.
“Like that idea, do you?” he drawled. “I think that’s the best plan. Or I just stay very close all the time.”
Yikes.
“You did call out to me, didn’t you, Bumblebee?” he asked, running a finger down her cheek.
God.
She had a feeling she was going to find it very hard to ever keep something from him.
“No.”
“No? Why not?” He kept his voice soft.
“Because I… well, I got up to make up the sofa bed.”
“You did?” he prompted. “Why?”
“Because I should sleep in it so you can have the bed. I’m smaller. And you need your sleep.”
“Do I?” he said in a low tone.
“And then I thought if I made up the sofa bed, then you wouldn’t be able to sit there to watch TV. It would be in the way.”
“Always thinking of me, aren’t you?” he murmured, taking her hand in his. He turned her hand over so it was palm-up. Then he ran his finger around it in circles.
“Then my head started to hurt, so I went to the kitchenette to see if my painkillers were there.”
“And you never once thought to call out to me.”
“You were busy. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Okay, we need to make some rules,” he said firmly.
Rules? They did?
“Like what?” she asked.
He held a finger up. “While you’re ill, you don’t get out of bed on your own. Actually, I’ll change that.”
She should think so. That was completely unreasonable.
“While you’re ill or in Little headspace, you don’t get out of bed without me.”
Wait. That was worse!
“What? Seriously? What if I have to use the bathroom?” she asked.
“Then you call for me.”
“What if someone is knocking at the door and you’re not here?”
“Then you let them keep knocking,” he said.
“What if the building is on fire?”
