Page 100 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

“Robert.” Christine’s voice slips through my thoughts.

I blink once, and the room comes back into focus.

“Are you okay?” She straightens slowly, her eyes on me now, watching in a way that tells me she noticed.

“Yeah.” I look at the child lying in front of me and feel something I haven’t allowed myself to feel in a long time.

Something I don’t know how to contain.

“Christine.” I clear my throat, turning to her. “You know why I came, right?” Whatever distance she’s been holding onto all night, I close it.

My hands come up before she can move, before she can step back or turn away or rebuild whatever wall she’s been hiding behind.

I cup her face, leaving no room for escape, my fingers stroking along her jaw, my thumbs beneath her cheekbones.

“Robert…” She inhales deeply. “Let’s not…”

“Look at me.”

“I can’t.” She tries to turn her head.

“Don’t,” I murmur, quieter now, closer, my forehead almost brushing hers. “Don’t do that.”

Her lashes flutter before she looks at me.

And I see everything she’s been holding back. Everything she hasn’t said. It’s all there.

I already know. But I need to hear it. I need it said.

“Is she mine?” I ask.

Her breath catches, her eyes flickering again like she’s searching for something to hold onto, something that lets her step around it.

There isn’t anything.

“Christine…” My voice drops… rawer. “Don’t lie to me.”

Her lips part. Close. Part again.

A second passes. Then another, the room holding still around us, like even the air is waiting.

“Yes.” She breathes out. It’s quiet. Barely there.

But it hits with the same force as gravity.

I am a father.

Again.