Page 102 of Unravel Me

“You lied to me,” she whispers, swiping at the tears that start dripping down her cheeks.

I step toward her, but she steps back. “I’m so sorry, Rosie.”

“Sorry for lying, or sorry you got caught?”

“I was going to tell you. I swear, Rosie. I was going to tell you tonight.”

A huff of laughter escapes her. She tugs the sleeves of her sweater—my sweater—over her hands, wiping at her eyes. “Convenient timing, huh?”

“Dada?” A tiny voice floats down the hallway, stopping my heart. Connor toddles into view, eyes locking with mine and filling with so much excitement before he starts racing toward me. I crouch down, ready to catch him, because I think the only thing in the world that might make me feel better right now is holding this little boy in my arms. “Dada!”

“Connor, no.” Rosie catches him before he can crash into me. For a moment, I stay stooped there on the ground, trying to shove away the startling feeling clawing at my chest. It matches my arms: fuckingempty.

Connor points at me, looking at Rosie. “Dada, hug?”

She squeezes his hands in hers, her words hoarse. “Not right now, baby.”

His sweet face crumples, and I’m ready to fall to my knees, beg her for forgiveness, scoop them into my arms and tell them how much I love them.

But then Marco appears, taking Connor’s hand. “Hey, bud. Let’s go play trains.”

“Say bye to Adam, baby,” Rosie tells him, and the simple words bring those tears right down her cheeks again, faster this time, and she turns away to rid her face of the evidence.

“Bye, Dada,” Connor whispers, waving at me. “Lub you.”

I close my eyes to the two words I’ve never heard before, not from him, ones I want to hear all over again but might never get the chance to. “Love you, too, little trouble.”

He points at Rosie. “Big tubble? Lub?”

“Marco,” Rosie chokes out. “Please.”

He scoops Connor into his arms, casting an apologetic glance at me. “Come on, buddy. Uncle Arch is setting up your tracks.”

“Rosie, I—” My phone rings in my pocket, cutting me off. I pull it out, silencing it without looking at it, but before I can tuck it away, it rings again. “Sorry,” I mumble, frowning at the number, the same damn one that’s been lighting it up for over a week now. “I’ll turn it off.”

“You can get it, Adam,” Rosie says, scrubbing her eyes.

“No, I don’t—” It rings again, and Rosie sighs.

“Adam, please. Just answer it.”

Bringing my phone to my ear, I keep my eyes on Rosie. “Hello?”

“Adam? Oh thank God. I’ve been trying you for days!”

I frown, dropping my gaze as I try to place the voice on the other end. When it hits, the frantic plea behind my name, something drops from my chest, sinking low in my stomach. “Courtney?”

Rosie’s face falls, and I know immediately that she knows who Courtney is.

And I refuse to let this woman mess up any relationship other than the one she already lit on fire a year and a half ago.

“I blocked your number for a reason,” I bite out in a low voice as Rosie looks down, giving me space I don’t want.

“I know, but I had to talk to you. It’s about—”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Don’t call me again.” Before I throw my phone in my pocket, I block her number. “Sorry about that. Nobody important.”

Rosie nods, scuffing the floor with her bare toes before she finally meets my gaze. “You’re on Tinder.”

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