Page 18 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

“This is you fixing it?” My gaze lingers on him a second longer, searching, then I look away.

I already know him. Or at least, I know this version of him.

The one who slips away without explanation and comes back sweeter, like that’s supposed to balance the scale.

The one who makes you question if you’re overreacting for even asking where he’s been.

I’m sure he disappeared to be with another woman and have a quickie. Something rushed, careless, and forgettable.

My jaw clenches slightly, but I keep my face neutral. Because if I say it out loud, it stops being a suspicion.

It becomes something I’ll have to deal with.

“Come on babe, I wanted tonight to feel like something again,” he adds, softer. “I’m sloppy, but I'm trying.”

God, what am I doing with myself at twenty-four?

Why does my need to be needed, to not be alone, override my senses like this?

I mean, I know better.

That’s the irritating part.

I see the signs. I feel the shifts. I catch the gaps in his words, the way things don’t add up, the way I’m always the one adjusting, bending, making space for him to fit comfortably.

And still… I stay.

Because the idea of being alone feels louder than the truth I’m trying not to face. Because being wanted, even inconsistently, still feels like something.

Even when it’s not enough.

I move further in, trailing my fingers over the back of a chair, the edge of the table, anything to help the sudden shift in my chest.

“When did you plan this?” I ask.

“Huh… earlier,” he stutters.

“And…” I glance back at him. “…You disappearing was part of the plan?”

He winces, but there’s a small smile tucked in there.

“No, that part… I messed up.” He walks toward me then, slower this time, like he’s approaching something fragile. “But this…” His hand gestures lightly around us “…this is me trying to get it right.”

He presses a kiss to my temple, lingering just long enough to feel willful.

“I have one more thing,” he murmurs. “Give me a few minutes, okay?”

I nod before I can overthink it.

He doesn’t pull away immediately.

His hand comes up instead, cupping my face, like he needs me to stay right there with him.

My breath stills as his thumb brushes just beneath my eye, as if he’s memorizing something he’s not ready to lose.

“Christine…” His voice carries my name differently this time. “My love.”

His gaze searches mine, deeper than it has all day, like he’s finally saying something real.