Page 133 of Ex Somnis

“How are you feeling, Lemon?”

“Weird,” Lennon rasps, her voice thin. She swallows, then tries again. “I feel weird.”

Her hand goes up toward the nasal tube, and she frowns, scrunching up her nose.

Nevan smooths his thumb over the bridge of her nose while I gently guide her hand away from the tube.

“Don’t. The nurse should arrive in a few minutes. I’ll ask if we can remove it.”

I hold her hand between mine as she looks around the bedroom, then back at Ridge. “Did you seriously kidnap me?”

“Sorry, sweetheart, I would have tidied up a bit,” Ridge says from his chair, voice rough with sleep. “If I’d known you were waking up in my bed today. And I prefer the term reloca⁠—”

“That was me,” I say, cutting him off. “I’m sorry. I should have asked.”

The doorbell rings, and we all turn our heads toward the sound.

“I’ll let her in,” Nevan says, squeezing Lennon’s hand once before leaving for the front door.

I keep Lennon’s other hand in mine and stroke my thumb across her knuckles. “Any nausea? Dizziness? A headache? Any other symptoms?”

There’s something sarcastic trying to form in her expression, but she’s too exhausted to fully commit to it. “Is embarrassment a symptom?”

“With Ridge in the room?” I ask, making a show of thinking the question through. “Constantly.”

“Ha,” Ridge says, making Lennon’s mouth twitch.

Nevan returns with the nurse behind him, and Lennon straightens, her cheeks flushing. The embarrassment she was talking about is, in fact, real.

“Do you want us here?” I ask her softly. “Or would you prefer some privacy with the nurse?”

Relief flashes across her face. “Privacy, please.”

“Of course.” I bring her knuckles to my lips and kiss them. “Good answer.”

Her cheeks flush even redder.

Interesting.

One more kiss, then I carefully place her hand onto the bed. “We’ll be right outside.”

I usher the other two toward the door before either of them can say something profoundly unhelpful. I know they want to because Ridge appears offended and Nevan is walking as slowly as possible, looking at Lennon like he’d prefer to remain attached to her hand indefinitely.

I have to nudge them out of the room more forcefully before closing the door behind us.

For a moment, nobody says anything, then Ridge points at Nevan. “You threw a gummy bear at my head during a life-changing romantic moment.”

“What?” Nevan questions, looking entirely unrepentant. “Should we have just watched you two making out?”

“I was confessing my love.”

“You were making out.”

“Those are not mutually exclusive activities.”

The argument continues as I move into the kitchen, something about gummy bear-based assault and boundaries. I stop listening and instead concentrate on the espresso machine, sighing as it gurgles to life.

Lennon is awake.