Mia's POV
"Kyle!" I exclaimed, shock and anger flooding through me. "What are you doing?"
Kyle stood over Thomas, his chest heaving, fists still clenched at his sides. "Stay away from my wife," he growled.
"Ex-wife," I corrected automatically, moving to Thomas's side. "Are you alright?"
Thomas touched his jaw gingerly, wincing. "I'll live," he muttered, his eyes never leaving Kyle's face. "Though your ex-husband seems determined to change that."
Gas barked frantically, clearly distressed by the sudden violence. Several park-goers had stopped to stare, and I realized with horror that this scene was likely to make tomorrow's gossip columns if any of them recognized Kyle.
"This is ridiculous," I said, helping Thomas to his feet. "Kyle, you need to leave. Now."
"I'm not going anywhere," Kyle retorted, his voice tight with barely controlled rage. "Not while he's with you."
I stepped between the two men, one hand protectively on my belly. "This is none of your business, Kyle. Thomas was helping me take Gas for a walk. That's all."
"That didn't look like 'all' to me," Kyle replied bitterly, gesturing to where we had been standing moments before. "Unless dog-walking now involves his tongue down your throat."
I felt heat rush to my face, both from anger and embarrassment. How dare Kyle make a scene like this? And yet, beneath my indignation, there was a treacherous flutter in my stomach at the raw possession in his voice, the unmistakable jealousy in his eyes.
"That's enough," Thomas interjected, straightening his coat with as much dignity as he could muster. "You're causing a scene, Branson. Mia doesn't need this kind of stress right now."
Kyle took a menacing step forward. "Don't tell me what she needs. You don't know her. You don't know anything about her."
"And you do?" Thomas challenged, refusing to back down despite the throbbing in his jaw. "The man who publicly humiliated her? Who let her fall down the stairs when she was pregnant? That man knows what she needs?"
I closed my eyes briefly, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me. This was mortifying on every level—two grown men arguing over me in a public park, airing private matters for anyone to overhear, while I stood between them like some prize to be won.
"Stop it, both of you," I hissed. "People are staring."
Indeed, a small crowd had gathered at a discreet distance, watching the drama unfold with poorly concealed interest. I thought I saw someone with a phone pointed in our direction and felt my stomach sink. This was exactly the kind of publicity nightmare I'd been trying to avoid.
"Go home, Kyle," I said, keeping my voice low and controlled despite the emotional turmoil inside me. "You're drunk again, aren't you?"
"I'm not drunk," Kyle insisted, though there was a slight slur to his words that suggested otherwise. "And I'm not leaving you here with him."
"I don't need your permission or your protection," I replied, my patience wearing thin. "I'm perfectly capable of deciding who I spend time with."


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