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“Good,” he says, leaning in to press the faintest kiss to my forehead. “Stay that way. Makes my life easier.”

I let out a soft breath that might be a laugh. “Bossy.”

“You like me bossy.”

He’s not wrong.

The room falls into a quiet that isn’t uncomfortable, but heavy with unspoken things pressing against the silence.

Eventually, I push up onto my elbows.

“Tony,” I say.

He stiffens slightly. “Yeah?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“That never ends well for me,” he mutters, but there’s no real annoyance behind it.

I take a breath. “I don’t want to get married again.”

He goes still.

Completely, absolutely still.

Then, after a moment:

“I figured.”

“You did?”

He nods. “You flinch every time someone mentions commitment like it’s a cage snapping shut. I’ve seen that look before. Had it myself once or twice.”

I turn fully to face him. “You don’t… want marriage either?”

His eyes harden for a moment—not angry, just certain.

“No,” he says. “Not now. Not ever again.”

Something eases inside me. A knot I didn’t know I’d been carrying.

“Good,” I breathe.

One of his brows lifts. “Good?”

“I thought you might be expecting more. Or hoping for more.”

He snorts. “Sweetheart, if I’d wanted marriage I wouldn’t have told you right up front I don’t do monogamy.”

“Yeah, well… things have changed.”

His gaze sharpens. “What things?”

“You.”

“Me.”

We stare at each other for a long beat.