Page 113 of Tangled Desires

Hetsksand hooks an arm around my waist, pulling me closer. His bare thigh brushes against mine. “Nuh-uh, bottling shit up is my thing, not yours. Talk to me, baby.”

A shaky inhale, a trembling exhale, and that’s all it takes. My face crumples, and the tears come fast and ugly. Fucking hell. So much for not telling him anything tonight. Harrison doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t pull back. He shifts closer, his chest warm against my back.

“Midge,” he pleads. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

The words spill out in a messy rush. “I-I think I’m losing my mind. Day in, day out, it’s the same thing. Feeding, cleaning, burping, swaddling, over and over until I don’t even know what day it is. And when I think I can turn to someone—just for a hello or a goddamn wave—no one’s there. You’re not here.” My voice cracks so hard on the last word it physically hurts.

Harrison’s hands are on my shoulders before I realise he’s moved, turning me to face him. His thumb brushes at the tears streaking down my cheeks. “Midge…” His voice is soft, but there’s something in it that pulls me apart even more.

“I’m stuck, Harrison,” I whisper. “Drowning in this cycle. I’m so fucking tired, and I can’t even sit down for five minutes without something needing my attention. And it’s like, I don’t even know who I am anymore outside of being a mother. I just need—” My throat closes up, and I bite my lip hard, trying to stop a sob. My eyes dart to the bassinet. “Shit, I don’t want to wake him.”

“It’s fine,” Harrison says firmly, brushing my hair back. “If he wakes up, I’ll deal with it.”

“I’m sorry.” My words tumble out before. “I don’t mean to take this out on you. I’m not. You’re working so hard, and I know you’re stressed, too. And here I am, dumping this on you—”

“Hey.” His voice cuts through my outburst. “Why are you apologising? There’s no need for that. Not to me. Not to anyone.”He pauses, his hand cradling the back of my head. “You’re doingeverything, Midge. You’re here, holding it all together. You’re allowed to feel like this. You don’t have to keep it in. If anyone should be apologising, it’s me. I’m sorry. I should be here more. I should be helping more.”

I shake my head against his chest. “You already do so much, and now I’m just… I don’t want to make it worse for you.”

“You think I give a shit about that?” His voice hardens, but his grip stays gentle, grounding. “You need me here? I’ll be here. If I have to cut back at work, I will. I don’t care. If you want to go back to work, part-time or full-time or whatever the hell feels right when you’re ready, you absolutely can. Whatever you need, Midge. We’re a team. You don’t have to do this alone.”

His words hit deep, and my tears spill faster.

He tucks me tighter against him, his lips brushing the top of my head, and yet I can’t shake it off. That thought alone sends another wave of tears down my face, and I bring my hands up, trying to hide, trying to stop them. Harrison doesn’t let me. He gently pulls them away, his hands firm but careful as he keeps me close.

“I—” I can’t even bring myself to ask the bloody question. God, forgive me. “Do you—D-do you regret any of this? Us? Him?” I glance toward Joseph’s bassinet, shame crashing over me so hard I can’t look him in the eye. “If you could go back, would you—Would you change anything?” His breath catches, and for a terrifying second, he doesn’t say anything. I brace myself for something I don’t think I can handle. But then his hand cups my face, his thumb brushing away the tears on my cheek.

“Imogen, don’t you ever ask me that again.” His thumb keeps moving, slow and deliberate. “You. Him. Us. There’s nothing in this world I’d change. Not a fucking thing. I don’t regret a single second of this—not the sleepless nights, not the crying, not even the shit-covered nappies.” He pauses, letting out a soft huff ofa laugh, but there’s no humour in his eyes. Only conviction. “You’ve given me everything, Midge. A family. A life I didn’t even know I craved. And yeah, it’s hard. It’s messy and exhausting, and there are days I feel like I’m doing a shit job. Like I’m one bad day away from screwing it all up. And I have to tell myself, every fucking day, that I’m a good father. That I’m not him. I’mnothim.” His voice catches, raw and heavy, and I swear I feel the weight of his words settle into my chest. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not one damn thing.”

I can’t stop the sob that rips free. He doesn’t hesitate, pulling me into him, his arms tight around me like he’s holding me together. His hand tangles in my hair, and I bury my face in his chest, the steady thud of his heartbeat soothing.

“You’re not making anything worse, Midge,” he murmurs. “You’re not a burden, and neither is Joseph, you hear me? I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re the best mother, and our babies are so fucking lucky to have you. Feisty, witty, smart as fuck, brave even when you don’t feel it. Are you kidding me? Our kids are gonna grow up and ask,‘How the fuck did Dad get Mum?’ And I’ll have to tell them it’s because I’m the luckiest bastard alive. You’re nother, Midge. You never fucking will be. We’re better thanthem. We’reus.” He takes a breath. “We’ll figure this out together, okay? You and me. Always.” His lips twitch into a grin. “I landed myself a firecracker, that’s for sure.”

“You’re such an idiot,” I mumble, wiping at my cheeks.

“And yet, you love me.”

“I do. So much.” He chuckles softly, brushing another kiss to my hair. The silence stretches, not uncomfortable, just heavy with all we’ve said, until one word catches in my mind.Babies.

“Babies? Huh?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely. We’re gonna have a whole house full, sugar. If you want it, too, of course. Little Immy-girls and mini-Harrisons running around, driving us insane. How fucking crazy is that?”

“It’s our crazy, though.”

“Mmmhm.” His lips find mine and for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel like we’re not just surviving. We’reliving. Together.

Epilogue

1 year later – November

Love Me For The Both Of Us - CJ Fam

Joseph’s a walking, babbling menace in a chubby, cute disguise. Pint-sized Imogen through and through—except the temper. That’s coming, mark my words. God help me when we have a daughter.

Imogen’s waiting at the door when I pull up, looking like trouble wrapped in sunshine. I hop out, grab Joseph from her arms, and plant a quick kiss on her lips.

“Get in,” I say, smacking her ass lightly as she passes. Joseph’s wriggling, full of energy, kicking his little legs like he’s practising for the Olympics.

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