Page 102 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

“You think this was easy?” I fire back, keeping my voice down because of the room behind us, because Blue is right there, sleeping through something that could change everything forher. “You think I woke up one day and decided to keep your child from you for fun?”

“That’s exactly what you did.” His eyes darken.

“I didn’t even know how to process what happened back then,” I snap, my voice still hushed but cutting now. “You think I was in a place to come find you and say what? That I was pregnant with a man I barely understood?”

“You understood enough.”

“That’s not fair.” I shoot back.

“Neither is this.”

I shake my head slightly, my hands balling into fists.

“How dare you act like I made this choice lightly?” I want to punch or scratch something, but I do neither. “I was alone, Robert. Completely alone. I had to figure everything out without you.”

“And I didn’t get the chance to be there,” he shoots back, the stiffness in his voice cracking just slightly. “That wasn’t your decision to make on your own.”

“I didn’t have you,” I push. “That night didn’t come with a promise. It didn’t come with anything I could hold onto and say you’d be there if I called.”

He exhales, dragging a hand over his face like he’s trying to reset his mind.

“That doesn’t mean you had to erase me from it.”

“I didn’t erase you,” I counter quickly. “You weren’t part of that because you weren’t there.”

Silence drops for half a second.

“I could have been, Christine,” he breathes, his eyes flickering to reveal what I’ve been missing. Fear. “And… now, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do with that.”

I swallow, my gaze sweeping past him for a second before I force it back to him.

“You think I do?” I ask, softer now. “You think I’ve had this all figured out?”

He watches me, and for the first time since this started, there’s something else in his expression. It’s not anger. It’s not an accusation either. It’s closer to… uncertainty.

“Are you…” My voice cracks. “Are you scared?”

“Bloody hell, I am.” He doesn’t miss a beat.

A door creaks open behind us and we both turn in its direction.

Aisha is already halfway into the hallway, her eyes moving between us once, taking in the tension, and the volume we’re barely holding down.

“Take it somewhere else.” She tssks, unimpressed. “Some of us would like to sleep without front-row seats to whatever this is.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, throwing a hand dismissively in the air, and she disappears into her room, the door clicking shut behind her like an exclamation mark.

“Come with me.” I look back at him.

I reach for him again, this time, my hand finding his jacket with purpose, my fingers curling into the fabric as I pull.

I turn, leading him down the short hallway, the distance between us closing again whether either of us is ready for it or not.

I open my door and step inside, pulling him in with me.

I start pacing, letting go of his jacket.

The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick, like everything we left unsaid out there followed us in and is now choking me.