Page 143 of End Game

Cami’s face falls immediately, and Griffin reaches for her.

“Not Christmas,” he adds.

“When do you get off?”

“Seven Christmas morning.”

The disappointment disappears almost as quickly as it came. “Okay. That’s not terrible.”

“Assuming nobody decides to wrap their car around a tree at six forty-five.”

Cami swats him and shakes her head. “Don’t put that into the universe.”

Griffin catches her hand and kisses the top of her head.

I pull out my own phone and open the calendar.

Christmas used to be easy.

Christmas Eve with my family. Dinner. Same food we’ve eaten since I was a kid, same arguments, same people sitting in mostly the same places. Then back again Christmas Day for dinner.

Routine masquerading as tradition.

This year, I want it.

Maybe more than I ever have.

The realization catches somewhere behind my ribs because there’s a chance this is the last year I get to have it without explaining myself. Without telling them Dex isn’t just my roommate, or that Cami isn’t just Griffin’s wife. Without explaining that the life they think I’m living stopped existing a while ago.

I’m not ashamed.

That’s the fucked-up part.

If I were ashamed, maybe this would be easier to understand. Instead, I’m standing in a house with two Christmas trees, surrounded by people I love, knowing exactly what the truth could cost me.

I just don’t want to pay that bill before Christmas.

“My family’s Christmas Eve,” I say finally. “And Christmas dinner.”

Dex looks at me for only a second.

No judgment. No question. Just a tiny shift in his expression that tells me he knows enough to understand what I’m not saying.

“Okay.” Cami taps something into her phone. “So Micah is gone Christmas Eve and part of Christmas Day.”

“I’ll be back in between.”

Dex’s fingers brush mine.

Tiny. Private. There and gone before anyone else would likely notice.

“Mom wants us over Christmas afternoon,” Griffin says. “She specifically requested Cami.”

“Just Cami?” Dex asks.

Griffin scratches his jaw. “She knows there is more. There is…something.”

A laugh slips out of me. “That is reassuringly specific.”