Page 146 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

That… real, even after the incident.

And somehow it feels like I’m next. No one special, just the next try.

Atelia reaches for one last bottle and holds it up. This time, she doesn’t put it back.

“This one,” she decides.

She turns to me, her expression unreadable but not unkind.

“You don’t have to figure him out all at once,” she winks at me.

She taps the bottle lightly against her palm.

“Come on,” she adds, already moving toward the door.

I follow.

But my mind doesn’t.

It stays behind.

When we got home,it was already late and Blue had already fallen asleep.

Now, I’m in front of the fridge, shifting containers around to make space for the food we came back with, because Robert made too much.

Everything about tonight came in excess.

I slide one in, then another, adjusting things that don’t need adjusting, my hands moving on instinct while my mind drifts somewhere else entirely.

To everything Atelia said, and then some she didn’t say.

I close the fridge halfway, then open it again, pulling one container back out just to reposition it.

He proposed to her.

I press my lips together, exhaling slowly through my nose. Because what exactly am I supposed to do with that? What will I do with a man who has lived entire lifetimes before me?

Loved.

Lost.

Tried again.

I close the fridge’s door, then lean against it for a second before pushing off.

“Not that look again.” Aisha’s voice drifts in from behind me.

“Which look again?” I ask, reaching for the containers that didn’t fit in.

“The one where your brain is doing gymnastics you didn’t sign up for,” she replies, stepping into the kitchen, arms folded loosely, eyes already locked on me.

“That’s… very specific.” I huff out a small breath.

“I’m your best friend.”

I glance at her.

She’s leaning against the counter now, fully ready. Waiting.