Page 89 of In Somnis

Now, I hope even more that Lemon is working later.

“Room 12, correct? I’ll have these up in two minutes.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

As soon as he leaves, I turn to Simon and keep my voice low. “Storage closet first, then housekeeping, it’s faster during high season. You’ll get the hang of it. First week is always rough.”

Simon nods, looking relieved. “Thanks, man. I don’t know how you stay so calm.”

I shrug. “Years of practice and a low bar for what counts as a crisis.”

I learned this early on. If you panic, everyone panics. If you stay steady, things stay manageable.

The trick is that it costs something every time, and nobody ever sees you pay it.

I went to school with Simon. So when he showed up yesterday, saying he’d lost his job at the Vaughn mansion and needed work, I took pity on him and asked Mabel to hire him, because I absolutely could use the help at reception.

I run the towels up to Room 12, check the reservation system quickly—nothing else pressing—help Simon respond to a couple of emails, then head into the restaurant. I find Sydney already there, setting tables for dinner service, which should start in about half an hour, so it’s a good thing I woke up when I did.

She leans over to adjust a chair, and I catch a flash of warm, tanned skin at her lower back.

Shit.

“Hey, Nev,” she greets casually as she passes me.

“Hey,” I manage, and it comes out normal. Almost smooth, even.

She just greeted me.

I duck into the kitchen under the excuse of washing my hands, but the second I push past the swing doors, the smell hits me.

Lemonade.

I stop in the doorway, and relief hits me so hard I have to take a second to breathe through it.

Lemon is standing at the prep station as if she belongs there, hair pulled into a ponytail with that yellow bandana tied over it, apron cinched around a long brown sweater that brushes her thighs when she moves. Her knife work is clean, confident, and she’s focused on the cutting board, completely in her element.

She’s okay. She came back.

The knot that’s been sitting in my chest since yesterday finally loosens.

She glances up at the sound of the door, and the second her blue eyes meet mine, a smile blooms across her face. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, yourself.” I move toward her without really deciding to, and suddenly I’m close enough to see the flush creeping across her cheeks. Close enough to see…

Fuck.

The angry red rash on her temple peeking out from under her bandana.

My hands move before I can stop them, tilting her face so I can get a better look. “What happened?”

She huffs out a small laugh. “The pavement.”

“Not funny.” I keep my voice level even though ice is sliding through me. “They told me you had an accident, but not what actually happened. I’ve been trying to figure out if I should be mildly concerned or planning a funeral.”

Her expression softens. “You were worried about me?”

“Yeah, Lemon. I was worried.” I pull out my phone and hand it to her. “Put your number in.”