Page 190 of End Game

There are drinks on the table.

Nothing serious.

I’ve had one beer over the last two hours. Ronan has been nursing the same whiskey long enough that the ice is mostly gone. Griffin switched to water after one beer, and Cami has champagne chilling in the refrigerator because she informed us at approximately six-thirty that midnight without champagne was “incorrect.”

It is not a party.

That’s probably why I like it.

No crowds. No shouting over music. No strangers pressing too close.

Just the four of us scattered around the living room in sweatpants and T-shirts while Dex financially exploits drunk people downtown.

He’d been completely unconcerned about missing this.

That part mattered more than I expected it to.

When he left for work, he’d kissed me in the kitchen with one hand already reaching for his keys.

“Have fun tonight,” he’d said.

“You too.”

“Oh, I will. I’m going to make rent in like four hours.”

I laughed, but he’d caught the back of my neck before I could move away.

“And don’t sit around feeling guilty because I’m working.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

His eyebrows went up.

“Okay. Maybe a little.”

Then he’d kissed me again, softer that time.

“I’ll be too busy to miss you until at least one-thirty.”

“Very romantic.”

“I contain multitudes.”

Apparently that phrase has infected all of us.

He’d left smiling.

And now, hours later, I haven’t had to wonder once whether he’s bothered by the fact that I’m here. With Cami, Griffin, and Ronan—especially Ronan.

That’s the part I try not to think about too directly.

I’m not particularly successful.

“Micah.”

I blink.

Cami is staring at me.