His eyes locked onto mine, dark and unreadable, and then he started to lean in. I turned my face away, doing everything I could to dodge his lips as they got closer and closer.
All I could think was, those lips had kissed Julia—her mouth, maybe everywhere. The thought made my stomach turn.
His hands had been all over Julia, too. What if he was still carrying her sickness? What if he already had what she did? The way he was acting, it was like he knew exactly what was going on.
“Remy, let me go. You’re scaring Cindy.” My voice came out tight.
But he was too strong. The more I fought, the tighter he held me, until finally, I stopped struggling. I just glared at him, cold and unblinking.
I could see myself in his eyes—tiny, furious, absolutely seething. And beneath all that anger, there was a dead kind of emptiness, like I couldn’t care less about the man in front of me.
Maybe he didn’t expect that. After a long moment, he let go and turned away, leaning back against the wall. He rubbed his forehead, frustrated, patting the pockets of his suit for a cigarette. He couldn’t find one, and it just made him more annoyed.
Mike stepped in, pulled a pack from his own pocket, and handed it over.
Remy walked to the window, cracked it open, and lit up. He took a deep drag, bracing his hands on the edge of the glass. I couldn’t see his face.
“Remy, are you really going to just stand there and say nothing?” I practically shouted. “What if Cindy gets sick? She’s just a kid. Are you even her real dad, or are you just heartless?”


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