Like something that takes choice out of the equation and replaces it with destiny.
And I don’t trust destiny.
I trust myself.
And myself says?
Don’t get attached.
Don’t get comfortable.
Don’t give anyone the chance to become something you can’t walk away from.
“You think you’re unworthy,” Uncle Uzzi says suddenly.
My gaze snaps back to him.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
“Watch it.”
But he doesn’t back down.
Of course he doesn’t.
“You think what you’ve done disqualifies you,” he continues, quieter now, but no less certain. “That you’re not fit for a mate. Not fit for a happy ending.”
My jaw tightens.
Because he’s not entirely wrong.
But I’ll be damned if I let him say it like that.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I growl.
He shrugs.
“I know enough.”
Silence stretches between us.
Heavy.
Then—he slides his phone across the table.
The screen lights up.
Bright.
Annoyingly cheerful.
“Just download it,” he says. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
I stare at it.
At the stupid, glowing icon.
