Page 8 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle
The door swings shut anyway.
And just like that, I feel… off.
Like something was just within reach and slipped away, leaving nothing but its absence.
I feel… lacking.
“He’s got that effect on everyone,” the bartender slips beside me, already reaching for my glass, her voice as steady as her hands.
“Oh.”
“But it’s the first time anyone has had that effect on him.”
She’s gone before I can ask what that even means, moving on to the next person like she didn’t just tilt something in me.
Oh.
