Page 155 of Disgrace

The sliding ICU doors closed shut behind him. It was only her and John left, then. The curtains covering the glass windows blocked out the outside world. John used a dial behind her head to turn down the lights in the room.

Another button quieted the machines.

Silently, John climbed into the bed with Siena. She hadn’t even gotten the chance to ask him to do that—he already knew what she wanted.

The second he was there with her, and she was wrapped in his embrace, nothing else mattered. She cried because she was sad, and she was happy, and she was terrified. She was all of those things at once, and it was overwhelming.

John rocked her while his lips pressed against her forehead with a soft kiss—comfort, affection, and assurance all rolled into one. Next to the heartbeats between them, she couldn’t hear anything else.

She didn’t want to.

John tipped her head back, and used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the tears from her cheeks. He quickly pressed one kiss, and then another just as fast to her smiling lips. All the worry he had shown earlier was gone for the moment. Sure, there was still a bit of concern flashing in his eyes, but nothing like before.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

John’s brow furrowed. “For what, amore?”

“Between us, I’m always the calm, levelheaded one. I know this probably upsets you. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t upset me. Ever.”

His statement was so small, and yet firm and sure at the same time. As though it wasn’t at all up for argument, and he didn’t want to entertain it further. She chose to let it go because it didn’t really matter.

John kissed her again—lingering longer the second time, and letting his tongue tease at the seam of her lips. It was not nearly as innocent or sweet as his first kisses. Siena’s heart picked up the pace.

“You’re not supposed to excite me,” she whispered.

John laughed darkly. “My bad.”

Then, she had another thought. “Is my mom—”

“Dead.”

Flat. Dry. Cold.

His tone was all of that, and more.

Siena sucked in a shaky breath. “Yeah, okay.”

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I know that probably hurts.”

“A little.”

She was still her mom.

Coraline had given her life.

She simply hadn’t cared about it.

“But probably not for the reasons you think,” Siena added.

“I think—”

John’s words cut off when a knock against glass echoed. Siena could see through the one sliding glass door with no curtain that people were waiting. A new family for her. People who loved her because John loved her.

His family.

“So much for no excitement,” John muttered, climbing off the bed.