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Then her gaze shifts past my shoulder. My sunglasses are beside her keys on the counter.

She turns toward the front of the house and looks at our shoes piled together beside the door, then down the hallway toward the bedroom.

When she turns back to me, the argument has gone out of her face. Her brows pull together as she looks around the kitchen again.

“Wait.” She looks at me. “Are you living here?”

I blink at her. “Goldie.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” I gesture toward the front door. “I have a key. I sleep here every night. Your closet is half filled with my clothes.”

Her gaze shifts toward the hallway.

“You cleared out dresser drawers for me,” I add.

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out right away. Instead, she looks toward the bedroom again, her forehead creasing.

“Those were because you kept leaving stuff here,” she says finally, but she sounds less certain now.

“Yeah. Because I’m always here. You always want me to stay.”

Her eyes narrow a little as she looks back at me. “That is not the same thing as living here.”

“Okay.” I hook my thumbs into my pockets. “My razor and toothbrush are in your bathroom. My laundry goes in the same hamper as yours. I brought my pillow over because I sleep better on it, and I haven’t spent a night at Colston’s in weeks.”

Goldie goes quiet.

I watch her look around the kitchen again, only this time I can see the realization working across her face. My stuff isn’t packed in a bag somewhere waiting for me to leave. It has places that it fits. So do I.

“Holy shit,” she says, and a disbelieving laugh slips out of her. “You live here.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you.”

She turns toward me, laughing harder now. “When the fuck did that happen?”

I shrug. “No idea.”

“You just slowly moved into my house, and neither one of us noticed?”

“I noticed.”

Her laughter cuts off. “You did?”

I can’t keep a straight face anymore. “Uh, yeah. Colston obviously noticed, too.” I gesture at the pocket with my phone in it.

Goldie points at me. “Don’t you dare laugh at me.”

“I’m trying not to.”

“You’re doing a terrible job.”

She comes over beside me, still smiling, and steals a pepper from the bowl on the counter.

I watch her pop the pepper into her mouth. “You okay with this?”

She chews for a second, her smile fading into something more thoughtful. “I mean… yeah.” Her eyes move around the kitchen again before settling on me. “I just didn’t realize we’d gotten this far without talking about it.”