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“I didn’t think—”

“Need you to hear it.”

I shut up.

His hand settled flat beside the mug.

“What it means for us is ours. What you and Priya might want could be different.”

“I don’t even know if she wants me.”

“Then you’re early.”

A laugh escaped me. Small and rough. “Yeah.”

“You start there.”

I leaned back and looked at the ceiling. The kitchen light hummed.

“What if she does?”

“Ask what she wants.”

“And if she doesn’t know?”

“Then she doesn’t know.”

“You always this helpful with Josie?”

“No jokes, Cash.”

He didn’t raise his voice.

He didn’t need to.

I lowered my eyes.

“All right.”

Boone picked up the mug, then set it down without drinking. “Nothing without paper,” he said. “Every exit hers.”

I looked at him. “Paper?”

“Write it down. What she wants. What you’re offering. What’s off limits. How she stops it.”

“A contract?”

“An agreement. Not something you enforce against her.” He shifted forward, forearms on the table. “She can change her mind. Mid-sentence. Midway through something you both agreed to yesterday. The paper doesn’t outrank the woman.”

I nodded slowly.

He kept going, more words than I’d heard from him all week.

“Not when she’s half asleep. Not when she’s scared of losing work. Not when saying no means losing her room.”

That landed hard enough to make me sit straighter.

“The room’s hers regardless,” I said.