Page 181 of End Game

Dex raises his mug. “It’s really fucking good.”

Ronan glances at the contents. “Yours is half Irish cream.”

Dex grins. “That definitely does not make the coffee less good.”

I ask Micah how I can help with breakfast.

Micah points the spatula at me. “You can’t.”

“What?”

“You worked last night.”

“I slept.”

“Some.”

Dex lifts his mug again. “Sit down, Dad. The children have breakfast handled.”

“You are almost thirty years old.”

“And yet, emotionally, on Christmas morning?” Dex gestures toward himself. “Seven.”

“That tracks,” Ronan says.

I sit mostly because arguing with all of them seems harder than complying.

A minute later, Ronan places a mug of black coffee in front of me.

I take one sip. “Okay.”

His mouth twitches. “Okay, what?”

“This is annoyingly good.”

“I know.”

Dex’s mistletoe appears after breakfast.

Micah is the first victim.

Dex catches him by the front of his shirt beneath the living-room doorway and kisses him without ceremony. Micah makes a surprised sound before one hand settles at Dex’s waist and he kisses him back.

When they separate, Dex looks unbearably pleased. “See?”

Micah rolls his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me.”

“I do.”

The certainty in Micah’s answer softens Dex’s expression for half a second before Cami walks through the doorway.

She follows Dex’s eyes to the mistletoe. “Oh, absolutely.”

Dex dips her backward and kisses her.

I mostly wonder whether this is going to result in injury.