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“It’s fine.”

Don sighs. Possibly too loudly.

“What makes you so sure?”

I know too much. I know nothing I can say.

“He’s cooperated all this time,” I manage. “He hasn’t tried anything funny. His demands have been legitimate.”

Don stares.

“What?” I ask.

“You refused every single one of those legitimate demands.”

“I didn’t refuse—”

“You lawyered, you offered money, you avoided contact.” Don counts them off on his thin fingers. “That tends to create resentment.”

I look down. The tile is clean. Cool. No answers there.

The shower continues running.

“I should call Reggie.”

“Yes.”

“And Rafael.”

“Yes.”

“And you should stay at your place tonight.”

Don’s brow rises. “You’re ejecting me?”

“I’m considering staying there with you.”

“Finally,” he says, relaxing. “The first sensible thing.”

I glance toward the door. “Just tonight. Until I understand what’s happening.”

“Good. Great. Love that. I have a couch with your name on it. Technically my ex’s, but don’t hate it for that reason.”

I almost smile.

“He said he was going to work,” Don says, biting his lower lip. “I don’t think he’s planning on leaving any time soon.”

I nod. “People don’t get jobs for a weekend.”

Of course, work for Clint could mean…

The thought should horrify me for every sensible reason. Instead, my mind supplies Clint in the smaller bedroom, chest bare, typical gray sweats, a smile for the camera.

I turn away before Don sees too much.

“You think he plans to stay permanently?” he asks.

The shower shuts off. Both of us go silent.