Page 172 of End Game

The word settles low in my body.

An image follows immediately—Micah downstairs with me, Cami on the table, both of them looking to me for direction.

I stop that thought before it develops further.

Not today.

But eventually.

Definitely eventually.

I loosen my grip without removing my hand. “You and Cami have discussed joining me downstairs.”

Micah actually laughs. “Have we?”

“She asked me last night when you were going to.”

“That sounds like Cami discussed it with you.”

“Have you not discussed it with her?”

His silence answers the question.

I narrow my eyes. “You have.”

Micah smiles. “Maybe.”

“Eventually?”

“God, yes.”

I laugh. “Good.” The word comes out with far more satisfaction than I intended.

I leave my hand against his skin for another moment before finally letting it fall into my lap.

The loss of contact registers immediately—I dislike that more than I expected.

Micah settles back on the couch for a moment before asking, “Ready to go back out?”

“No.”

“Three more minutes?”

“Okay.”

And he stays there in the quiet with me.

When we return to the dining room, Cami is sitting beside Margot with a mug of tea between her hands.

Her gaze finds me immediately, then shifts toward Micah before returning to me.

The question in her eyes is obvious.

I give her a small nod to tell her I’m alright.

Her smile answers with the same information.

Mom has turned off the Christmas music. I notice that immediately.