Page 183 of End Game

I kiss her.

Nothing rough. Nothing possessive.

Just my wife smiling into my mouth beneath a stupid plant Dex taped over the doorway.

When we separate, Dex pretends to wipe at his eyes. “Beautiful.”

“Fuck off,” I reply with a smile.

“Merry Christmas to you too.”

Gift-giving with five adults produces a ridiculous amount of wrapping paper.

I’m reasonably sure Dex violated the hundred-dollar limit through creative accounting.

“I used musician math. It’s legally distinct from regular math,” Dex argued, before Ronan could prosecute him.

“It is objectively not,” was Ronan’s only reply.

Cami hands Dex a small package. “This one’s from me.”

Dex tears it open, then goes completely silent.

Slowly, he lifts a crocheted vagina out of the box.

There are three full seconds of silence before he actually screams. “Oh my fucking God!”

Ronan winces. “Volume.”

Dex is already scrambling toward the smaller Christmas tree. “The Dickmas Tree has a queen!”

Cami folds over laughing while he hangs it beside the crocheted penis ornament.

“We couldn’t have a sexist Dickmas Tree,” she deadpans.

“They’re in love,” Dex announces.

“They just met,” Micah teases.

Dex looks offended. “Don’t invalidate them.”

Micah waits until he settles before handing him a flat package.

Dex’s entire expression changes when he unwraps it.

It takes a moment before he shows it to the rest of us. Inside is a framed charcoal-and-graphite drawing.

I recognize the source photo because I took it a few months ago—Cami curled against Micah on the couch while Dex sprawled across both of them, laughing.

Micah turned it into a drawing. A beautiful drawing.

Dex runs his thumb carefully over the edge of the frame.

“You drew this?”

Micah nods. “From Griffin’s picture.”

Dex looks at me. “You took this?”