The bathroom water was still running.
Aiden exhaled through his nose. “Quietly.”
“We are moving furniture,” Keres whispered. “Not performing surgery.”
“We can do both quietly.”
“You are such a joyless domestic tyrant.”
“You are putting the pillows wrong.”
“There is no wrong way to put pillows.”
Aiden stared at him.
Keres stared back.
Then slowly moved the pillow.
Good.
Fear could be educational.
By the time the bathroom door opened, we had turned three separate beds into one enormous, questionable structure in the middle of the room. It was not perfect. One mattress was slightly higher than the others. Keres had used too many pillows near the foot because he claimed ankles deserved luxury. Aiden had already started planning improvements for tomorrow. I was mostly focused on the
