Page 329 of End Game

Of course she remembers it word for word.

I clear my throat.

“I meant it.”

Cami doesn't speak.

Which is probably worse than if she'd laughed.

I look away long enough to drag a hand through my hair. “I've been thinking about it.”

“For how long?”

“A while.”

“How long is a while?”

“Long enough that this interrogation is becoming uncomfortable.”

Her mouth twitches, but she doesn't let me off the hook.

“Griffin.”

I exhale. “Since before Ronan and I had that conversation in the basement about the three of us.”

That takes the teasing out of her face. “I don't want you doing this because you think you need to compete with them.”

“I'm not.”

“Or because Ronan ties us up.”

“I know.”

“Or Micah does.”

“I know.”

She studies me.

I let her.

That's the problem with being married to somebody who knows every version of your face.

Eventually, she asks, “Then why?”

I have spent enough time thinking about that question that the answer should be easy.

It isn't.

“You probably know better than me, but I don't know exactly.”

Her eyes stay on mine.

I try again. “I spend most of my life doing something.” I gesture vaguely. “At work, I'm making decisions. Figuring out what's wrong. Deciding what needs to happen next. At home…” I pause. “I do it here too.”

Her expression softens. “I know.”

“If you're upset, I want to fix it. If something goes wrong, I want a plan. Even during sex, I'm usually moving you, holding you, making sure you're okay, paying attention to what you need.”