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"Which is why we need communication protocols," he said firmly. "Ways to check in without raising suspicion."

"Ooh, yes!" I bounced in my seat, excited by the spy-like element. "Code words?"

His lips twitched at my enthusiasm. "What did you have in mind?"

"Unicorn for when I'm feeling little," I said immediately. "Like, 'Hey Tyson, I saw this unicorn sticker I thought was cute.' That tells you I'm slipping into little space and might need support."

"Subtle," he said dryly, but made a note. "What else?"

"Storm for when I need grounding. Like 'Looks like a storm's coming' or 'I hate storms.'" I chewed my lip, thinking. "And . . . glitter for when I'm feeling bratty?"

"Of course glitter," he said with fond exasperation. "Let me guess—'There's glitter everywhere' means you're about to cause chaos?"

"You know me so well already." I beamed at him. "But also we need serious ones. For real emergencies."

His expression sobered instantly. "If you ever feel unsafe—"

"I text you 'red' and you come immediately," I suggested.

"No matter what," he promised, writing it in bold letters. "And if you can't text?"

"Physical signal?" I thought about it. "What if I tap my collarbone three times? Like where a necklace would sit? That means I need you but can't say it."

"Good. Visible but subtle." He made more notes. "And ‘yellow’ for non-emergency but still important?"

“Perfect.”

"And just one for me.”

"For you?"

"Whiskey." His eyes met mine. "For when I'm about to break cover because you look too good and I can't stand not touching you."

Heat flooded through me. "That's . . . that's going to happen?"

"Lena." He leaned forward, intensity radiating from every line of his body. "When I see you in that purple dress, surrounded by people who don't know you're mine, watching other men look at you?" His voice dropped to a growl. "It's going to take every ounce of control not to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of there."

I swallowed hard, thighs clenching at the mental image. "Okay. Whiskey means you're at your limit. Good to know."

"Though I'd prefer you didn't test it," he added, but his eyes said he knew better. "My self-control is good, but not infinite."

"Where's the fun in not testing boundaries?" I grinned at his groan. "Besides, you like it when I'm bratty. Admit it."

"I'm admitting nothing that can be used against me later."

"Smart man." I stretched, suddenly aware we'd been at this for hours. "Is that everything for the secret-keeping section?"

"One more thing." He grew serious again. "After the wedding, we reassess. Talk to Duke if needed. I know what he said, but I’m sure if he sees we’re serious he’ll reassess."

“Serious?” My heart pounded.

“If,” he asserted.

“Ugh,” I sighed,” I wish it didn’t have to be secret.”

His thumb stroked over my knuckles. "This is temporary secrecy for a specific reason, with a clear end date. After Mandy's wedding, we decide together what comes next. Whether we tell Duke, whether we continue, whether we adjust the dynamic. Together."

"I like that."