Page 73 of Tangled Desires

Great. An evening where Imogen gets a front-row seat to the shitshow that is dinner with Mum. She’ll see exactly how things usually go—too much noise, bitter comments, and me barely holding it together.

Yeah, that’s the last thing I want her to see. Perfect.

“Fine,” I mutter, and Joe nods.

“Harrison? You still there—” The phone slams down onto the hook, cutting him off mid-sentence.

I glance up just in time to spot Michael walking from the office. Fuck. He can’t know. Not yet. Maybe I imagined it? Maybe I’m just so sleep-deprived that I’m losing my mind. I smack my cheeks once, twice.

It’s all still there. Still fucking real.

The tension at the table’s thick, suffocating. Joe’s trying to keep it light, cracking jokes, asking Michael about the latest shop job, but even he can feel the strain. Imogen’s quiet next to me, tense, and I can’t shake the feeling it’s my fault. Things were actually going smooth for once, and then I had to open my mouth. Tell her something real, and now she’s acting all weird—tiptoeing around me like I might break. Ironically, she’s the one who grounds me, my soft spot.

Mum interrupts the conversation, her voice slicing through the silence. “So, how’s everything going? How’s the baby moving along?”

I shrug. “Going fine.”

Imogen clears her throat, a small smile forming as she glances my way. “All good. Baby’s kicking up a storm.” It pulls a grin out of me before I can stop it.

Mum nods. “Anything new?”

Imogen shrugs lightly. “Did my glucose test the other day. That wasn’t exactly a highlight.”

I smirk, the memory flashing in my head. That god awful sugary drink she had to chug—I’d been too curious and took a sip myself. It tasted nothing like ‘sugar’, just pure thick chemical nastiness. No wonder she’d been gagging. I’d barely swallowedmine without spitting it out, and she’d downed the whole thing while swearing under her breath.

“And actually, I had my first Braxton Hicks the other day,” she adds, glancing at me before turning back to Mum. “But other than all that, everything’s fine. As it should be.”

Wait. What the hell?“Braxton Hicks? What’s that?”

She glances at me, quickly. “Practice contractions.”

“When did this happen?”

“At work,” she says, like it’s no big deal. But that only makes it worse. Makes my heart start to fucking race.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s not a big deal, Harrison.”

“Any sort of contractions sounds like a big deal.”

She sighs. “They’re completely normal. Baby’s fine, I’m fine.” Normal. Sure. Except it doesn’t feel normal to be the last one to know.

Mum must catch the shift in the air; she turns to Imogen. “Is Harrison driving you up the wall yet, living together?”

Imogen smirks. “Uh, surprisingly, no.”

“Hm, maybe not yet,” Mum says with a chuckle, but there’s a bitterness to it.

Joe clears his throat. “So, Harrison, think we’ve got a chance this weekend?”

“Only if they finally get their heads in the game.” I shrug, grateful for the shift.

Mum doesn’t back down. “You know, you’ve been living out back for months, and not once have you come in for dinner. We have to practically beg to see you. It’s ridiculous.”

Michael coughs, trying to drown the awkwardness in his drink, while Joe’s voice cuts in, an attempt to douse the fire. “Nancy, give it a rest—they’ve got a lot on their plate—”

She waves him off. “No, I mean it. Michael’s never home, and now you’ve got her back there, too, and suddenly, it’s radio silence. Not a single word.”

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