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“To put this in our room.”

I nearly choke. “Our what?”

She keeps walking.

“Your room. My room. Alibi's room. Our room. Whatever terminology makes this transition easier for you.”

“There is no transition.”

“Of course not.”

“Callie.”

She disappears down the hallway. Alibi follows her.

I stand in my kitchen surrounded by her shit.

This is temporary. Just a few days until I deal with Mercer.

Callie walks back into the room without the dog bed and opens my refrigerator.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm hungry.”

She peers inside. Her expression slowly changes.

“What?”

She looks at me, then back into the refrigerator.

“You need better food.”

“What?”

“Look how healthy everything is.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“What about dessert?”

I rub a hand over my face. “I don’t eat that shit.”

“I noticed.” She starts pulling things out. “I'm making dinner.”

“No.”

She stops. “We're not doing this again.”

“Doing what?”

“You saying no like you're in charge of everything.”

“It's my kitchen.”

“And now we’re sharing it.”

I stare at her. She stares back. Then the corner of her mouth twitches. Mine almost does.