Page 124 of American Beauty

He shifts on the bed, glancing down, and grimacing at the IV taped to his arm.

“God, I’m starving.”

“You had a massive dinner last night. Your steak was huge. You were still licking your fingers when we got back to the penthouse.”

His lips twitch. “That wasn’t because of dinner, favorite. It was because my fingers had been inside your sweet pineapple pussy.”

“Alex, shh––” I laugh, glancing toward the door. “We’re in a hospital surrounded by lots of ears. Behave.”

He chuckles, unbothered. “I will never look at a pineapple again and not think of your pussy.”

“Omigod, stop it.”

His stomach lets out a loud growl, making both of us pause.

“See?” He places a hand over his gut. “I’m dying. That is the sound of suffering.”

I lean in, brush a kiss to his cheek. “You’re always suffering when you’re not being fed. I swear your stomach has a louder personality than you do.”

There’s a knock, and the door swings open. Alex’s doctor steps in, glasses low on the bridge of his nose, looking calm, collected, confident.

“Morning, gang. You ready to get that busted ankle of yours back in fighting shape?”

“That’s what I’m hoping for.”

The doctor glances at me, a light teasing smile tugging at his mouth. “And who’s this? Your post-op nurse?”

Alex smirks. “Best kind—unpaid but highly motivated.”

I roll my eyes. “Motivated to smother you with a pillow if you don’t behave.”

The doctor chuckles. “Looks like you’ll be in excellent hands.”

He moves to the side of the bed and uncaps a black marker, crouching down beside Alex’s leg like it’s just another day and not the start of something huge.

“Left ankle, correct?” he asks.

“That’s the bloody troublemaker,” Alex says.

With a quick swipe of his marker, the doctor draws on Alex’s left ankle—black ink against golden brown skin. It’s official now in a way it wasn’t a moment ago.

“X marks the spot,” he says with a wink, capping the marker like it’s no big thing.

But to me, it is.

“You’ve got about thirty minutes before we roll you back and give you the best sleep of your life.”

Alex looks at me, smirking. “I could use some sleep.”

Me too. We sure didn’t get any last night.

The doctor leaves with a nod, the door closing behind him. My fingers reach for Alex’s, lacing tight. “You good, big guy?”

He nods once. “Yeah… no. Not really.”

My chest clenches.

“I thought I’d be fine, but my anxiety is through the roof. About the surgery, yeah, but more about what comes after. We just found our way back to each other, and already we’re staring down another stretch of distance before we’ve even had the chance to find our rhythm.”

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