Page 167 of Disgrace

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“John?”

“Hmm?”

He leaned over the top of her, and kissed the top of her head. In the vanity, her smile grew the longer his kiss lingered against the top of her head.

John’s fingers tangled into the waves of her hair, and held firm. “Love you.”

Siena reached up and patted his cheek—three day scruff tickled her fingertips. “I love you.”

“What did you want, babe?”

“I was thinking …”

“Keep going.”

He straightened a bit, and she kept an eye on him in the vanity mirror. In sleep pants that hung low on his waist, and his chest bare, it was a little distracting.

Siena forced herself to pay attention to the topic at hand. “I was thinking about the bedroom across the hall.”

“The empty one.”

“We kept it empty for a reason.”

John’s fingertips drifted over her bare shoulder. “For the someday nursery, you said.”

“Yeah, for that.”

“What, did you want to turn it into a private office or something?”

She usually worked out of the house, and if she did work inside, she used his office. John never minded, or if he did, he never said anything about it.

“Or something,” she replied.

John met her gaze in the mirror, and amusement stared back. “Okay, what, then?”

“What do you think about pastel green?”

“For a color?”

“Like paint,” she said. “It’s neutral.”

“So is beige.”

“But beige doesn’t really fit for a nursery, John.”

Momentarily, she saw him stiffen. Just as quick, though, he relaxed.

“No, I guess it doesn’t.”

“I would really like to start getting the nursery set up, John.”

“Would you?”

Siena shrugged, and all her worries drifted away the second John bent down to kiss the top of her head again.

“All right,” he murmured. “I think we can do that.”