Page 78 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

“Blue…” she starts, but it’s already too late.

The child reaches her, wrapping small arms around her legs, pressing into her like she’s been waiting for this exact moment.

Behind her, a lady follows quickly, breath a little rushed, eyes apologetic.

“Sorry, I tried to…”

“It’s fine,” Christine answers quickly, her tone changing in a way I haven’t heard yet. Softer. Real.

She bends slightly, her hands automatically finding the child, holding her close.

I’m still standing there, watching.

The girl turns and looks at me, curious.

“Hi.” She waves, like this is normal, like I’m not standing here trying to make sense of what's happening.

Christine moves immediately, her hand curling around the child like she’s about to pull her away, to end this before it starts.

But the girl steps forward instead, unafraid.

“What’s your name?” She asks, tilting her head just slightly.

I don’t answer right away. Because I’m looking at her. And her eyes still me.

Gray.

Familiar.

Too familiar.

“Robert,” I answer finally, my voice quieter now.

She smiles brightly.

“I’m Blue,” she replies, like it’s important I know that.

Christine shifts again, this time more urgent, her hand moving to guide the child back, to pull her out of this interaction before it goes any further.

“Blue, we need to…”

“Lovely to make your acquaintance, Blue.” I don’t look at Christine.

My gaze narrows, tracking over her features slowly, not skimming, studying.

The details that don’t lie. I’ve seen this face before.

Not like this. Not alive, not moving, not looking back at me.

But fixed, captured years ago. Frozen in a photo I never forgot.

Something hit against my heart, like a lock clicking into place.

I run it again.

The timing, years, distance, and disappearance.

If Christine is Mommy, then there’s only one place that leaves me.

Am I daddy?