“The guest room only has a queen bed,” I pointed out. “It’s not big enough for three people and all of this luggage.”

“We’re making do,” Pax said, leaning against the doorframe. “Rylan said we could use the extra space upstairs for the baby’s gear and the play area.”

A cold dread pooled in my stomach.

The upstairs consisted of our bedroom, the small guest room, and my grandmother’s sewing room.

“The sewing room is locked,” I said quickly. “And it’s staying locked.”

Rylan took a sip of his drink, his eyes locking onto mine over the rim of the glass.

“Solene called earlier,” Rylan said, bringing his mother into the conversation as he always did when he wanted to apply pressure. “She thought it was a wonderful idea to let Pax use the house. She said it’s what your grandmother would have wanted.”

“My grandmother didn’t know Pax,” I said, my anger beginning to burn through my exhaustion. “And Solene doesn’t own this house.”

“Neither do you, entirely,” Rylan whispered, leaning in close so only I could hear. “We share this space now, remember?”