On my pink pair of pajamas, I follow Greg to the master bedroom.
"There's a lot of space in the closet," he says once we're inside, gesturing toward the walk-in closet. "For your things. You can ask Stannis to have them transferred later."
"That's fine. I don't have a lot of things, but Dahlia will bring some from my apartment."
I look around. The room is accented with gray, white, and warm wood. It's clean and smells nice.
At the center is a king-sized bed. There's plenty of room for two people, so the idea of sharing it doesn't really bother me.
"Your room smells really nice. Smells just like you," I say, and he turns to me with a skeptical look, as if I've just spoken in an alien language.
What's with that look? I only stated a harmless fact. Why does he look like I told him there's a missile coming from a foreign country?
When he doesn't say anything, I ask, "Which side would you like to sleep on? I can sleep on any side."
