I take a sip of coffee. "Ground rules. We said we'd establish ground rules."
"Okay. What do you want?"
"I want to be involved in security decisions that affect me. Not told after the fact."
"Fair. What else?"
"I want you to stop assuming I'm going to make emotional decisions just because I'm upset."
He nods. "And I want you to trust that when I make a call about security, it's because I know what I'm doing. Not because I'm trying to control you."
"I can do that."
"Good." He leans against the counter. "Anything else?"
"Yeah. You’re not sleeping in the guest room."
He goes very still. "What?"
"You heard me. This is your home. I'm not kicking you out of your own bed for weeks."
"Gwen—"
"We're adults. We can share space without it being weird." I set down my mug. "You keep your bed. I'll take the guest room."
"That's not happening."
"Then we both use the same room. There's enough space."
His eyes narrow. "You want to share a bedroom."
"I don’t want to play musical rooms like we're in some Victorian novel where propriety matters more than practicality." I cross my arms. "We're both professionals. We can handle it."
"That's a terrible idea."
"Why?"
"Because—" He runs a hand through his hair. "Because last night you called me out for pulling away. Now you want to share a bedroom?"
"I want to not feel like I'm disrupting your entire life. If we're doing this, we do it practically. You keep your space, your routine. I just exist in it for a while."
"That's not how protective details work."
"Then we're making up new rules." I meet his eyes. "Unless you can't handle it."
It's a challenge and we both know it. His gaze sharpens.
"I can handle it."
"Then it's settled. We share the space. Like adults."
"Like adults who are apparently determined to make this as complicated as possible."
"Apparently."
He shakes his head, but there's almost a smile hiding there. "You're going to be impossible to live with."
"Probably. But you cook, so you'll keep me anyway."
