Page 114 of Tangled Desires

“Pain, Dada!” he babbles again, his face lighting up.Plane. His favourite—and only—word this week.

“Yeah, champ, the plane. We’re going to see it soon,” I say in my best goofy voice, strapping him into his seat. He giggles like I’m some kind of comedy genius, and yeah, I’ll take it.

Kid’s got the best laugh. I turn back to grab the bags. Jesus Christ.

I strain, grunting as I lift up Imogen’s suitcase. “What the fuck do you have in here, Immy?” I grunt. “A fucking body?Shit. How much stuff do you need for two weeks in Fiji?”

“It’s called being prepared. Try it sometime.”

“Prepared for what? A fucking apocalypse? You could survive two months with what’s in here.”

“Or two weeks in Fiji with a toddler.” Fair point. I slam the boot shut, wiping imaginary sweat off my brow, like I’ve just conquered Everest.

“Good thing I bought this car, then. The Tiguan handles your overpacking like a champ.”

“Sure, let’s pretend you didn’t get it because you hated me squished into that tiny Polo.”

Guilty, but I’m not giving her the satisfaction.Room for four more kids, seven seats, extra boot space—fucking beauty. I just nod. “Mhm.”

I slide into the driver’s seat, and Imogen doesn’t waste any time. Her hand’s already at the back of my neck, pulling me toward her for a kiss. It’s hungry, but gentle, like she’s been starved for it all day. I don’t need any more invitations—my lips are on hers in a heartbeat. She pulls back just as quick. “I missed you today. So much.”

“You missed me?” I ask, dumbfounded.

Like, for real? The kind of missed-me-that-means-something kind of way?

“That’s what I said, yes. Now give me a kiss,” she says, like it’s nothing. But me? I can’t move. My brain’s a mess, like a bloody storm’s gone off inside my head. When was the last time anyone ever said they missed me? And actually meant it? Fucked if I know. Never, maybe. It doesn’t seem possible.

It can’t be real.

Imogen’s watching me now, her brows furrowed. “What?”

“I’ve never had anyone say they missed me before.”

Her gaze softens. “What do you mean, never?”

“Never. Not like this,” I smile, but it feels… vulnerable.

“Are you being for real?”

“Yeah.” I run a hand through my hair, then let it drop, unsure how to say the rest. “Makes me feel...” I trail off, and for once, I don’t have the words. What does it make me feel? Seen. Worth something. It’s the only thing that fits, but it feels bigger than that.

“Feel what?” she presses.

“Important.” The word barely leaves my lips.

“You are important, you big dummy.” In seconds, her lips are on mine again, her hands grabbing from over the console, squeezing me. I can’t stop kissing her—her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, and her lips. I could do this all day, every day.

“Alright, alright,” she giggles, trying to push me away, but her smile is wide, and her laughter is like music. It makes me smile harder, but I don’t stop. I can’t. Joseph starts giggling, too, like he’s in on the joke, and I can’t help but laugh with him. I pull back, catch my breath, and reverse out of the driveway.

“You really are important, Harrison,” Imogen murmurs softly. “To everyone, but most importantly, to me. To Joseph. I’ll love you enough for the both of us.”

I glance at her, a soft chuckle escaping my lips. “Impossible.”

“What? Why?”

My chest tightens. “Because no one could ever love you more than I do, Immy. And ‘enough’—fuck that. That’s not good enough. I don’t need you to love me enough for both of us. What I need is for you to know that words can’t even come close to how much I love you. There’s no measuring it. It’s more than enough, and it always will be.”

She pauses, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Since when did you get so good with words?”

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