Page 147 of Ex Somnis

There it is.

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do. I’m sorry, I should have done that days ago, but somehow there is always something.”

“The ground floor is fine. You know I’m very quick to complain when something’s wrong.”

“Ridge.”

“I’ve practically built an entire personality around it.”

That gets the corner of his mouth. Barely, but I see it.

“The stairs aren’t the issue.”

“No?” He frowns at me.

“No.” I gesture vaguely toward the ceiling. “The issue is that my girlfriend keeps selfishly sleeping in locations that are not currently accessible to me.”

“Your girlfriend, huh?”

Apparently that’s what came out.

“Did I say, my girlfriend?”

“You did.”

“I meant our.”

“You better.” Paul looks at the television screen for a moment, then he looks at me with the expression he always has at the start of a therapy session.

Great.

“If we’re doing this properly, all of us, in this house, I want it to be proper. Not the version where you’re a guest on the ground floor because the logistics work only that way. This is your home now. I want it to feel like your home, whatever that requires.”

Now I’m the one looking at the decorative fruits.

There’s a version of this where I say something dry and deflect, and we move on. He would let me, because he knows me. But I’m tired of using that version as a default.

“I know, I can see that.” I don’t look away from the fruit. “And I appreciate it. I would very much appreciate a stairlift. Thank you.”

“Of course. But we’ll spend most of our time down here anyway,” he says, settling back into the couch. “Kitchen, living room, and your room has the biggest bed with the best mattress, so…”

I look at him slowly. “Paul.”

“Hmm?”

“Are you telling me you enjoyed sleeping in my bed?”

“I’m simply observing that⁠—”

“Was that the plan? Having me sleep in the biggest bed so Lennon sleeps with me, and you can come cuddle when you’re afraid of the spiders?”

“There are no spiders in this house.”

“That you know of.”

“Ridge!”