Page 37 of Shared by my Ex’s Best Friends (Twisted Desires #2)
Chapter thirty-seven
LIAM
I ’m still kneeling in the living room, the late afternoon sun filtering through the curtains.
Everything feels surreal, like I’m watching a movie and my heart is racing in sync with the soundtrack.
Maya’s words echo inside me— I’m pregnant. At first, I’m stunned.
Like the rest of the guys, I don’t know what to say. My mind’s a tangle of disbelief, fear, and something else—something hopeful, something wild and wonderful.
I glance at Ethan and Jake. Ethan’s hands are still resting gently on Maya’s knees, steady and sure. Jake’s sitting beside her, that usual confident smirk softened into something tender. I can see the same mix of shock and joy in their eyes.
I swallow hard and finally speak. “Maya… we’re not just going to stand by. We want to be with you. All of us. This doesn’t change how we feel. It makes it stronger.”
Maya looks up at me, her eyes wide and shining, her breath catching like she’s afraid to believe it.
Ethan nods. “We’ve been talking about this already. About finding a house—somewhere we can all live together. Where you won’t have to do this alone.”
Jake leans forward, his elbows on his knees, voice a little breathless. “A fresh start. A place that’s ours. Big enough for all of us, for this new chapter. We want to build a home, Maya.”
I can feel my heart swell with hope as I watch her process it all—the fear, the doubt, and now that fragile flicker of something better.
Her lips curve into a smile, shaky at first, then more sure. “I want that,” she whispers, voice thick with emotion. “I want all of that. I want you.”
The way she says it, like she’s saying it for herself as much as for us, makes something inside me loosen. I reach out carefully and take her hand in mine. It’s small and trembling, but warm. Real.
“We’re in this together,” I say softly. “No matter what. You’re not alone anymore.”
Ethan shifts a little, his gaze steady on hers. “This isn’t just about the baby. It’s about us —all of us building a future.”
The room feels lighter somehow, as if the air itself has shifted. The old couch beneath me, the scattered cushions, the faint scent of jasmine from the candle burning low—all of it becomes part of this moment, this promise.
Her eyes glisten with tears, but there’s laughter too. A laugh I’ve been waiting to hear—a sound full of relief, of hope.
I know, right then, that no matter what comes next, we’ll face it as one.
***
The next morning, sunlight streams through the blinds in sharp stripes across the kitchen table, where we’re all gathered—coffee cups in hand, laptops open, a mess of notebooks and printouts scattered between us.
Maya’s here, of course, and she’s smiling more than I’ve seen her in days.
“We need space,” Jake says, tapping a listing on his laptop. “A yard for the kid to run in someday.”
Ethan nods, scrolling through photos on his phone. “And privacy. We want a place that’s ours, away from prying eyes. Somewhere we can build from scratch.”
Maya leans forward, eyes bright. “What about something with a big kitchen? I want us cooking together, not just grabbing takeout every night.”
I’m watching her, watching all of them, feeling this swell of something fierce and protective. We’re really doing this. I can hardly believe it.
I pull up a few listings on my own laptop. “Check this one out.” I gesture at the screen. “Four bedrooms, a big open living room, and a backyard that backs up to the woods. Quiet. Private.”
Jake leans in, squinting at the pictures. “Nice, and look at that fireplace. Winter nights would be perfect there.”
Ethan smiles. “Imagine the baby’s first Christmas. This place could hold all of that.”
We spend the next hour throwing ideas around—neighborhoods, school districts, commute times.
Later, as we drive out to see the first house in person, the sun hits the horizon and paints the sky in shades of pink and gold. The car hums quietly, but inside, there’s a steady rhythm in my chest—a beat of possibility.
We pull up to the house, a modest two-story with a wraparound porch and wildflowers blooming in the yard. The kind of place that’s lived in and loved.
Maya steps out first, taking it all in with wide eyes. Jake and Ethan follow close behind, already talking about paint colors and furniture.
“This could be it,” Maya says softly.
I nod, feeling it too—a sense that this is the place where everything starts to fall into place.
We step onto the creaky wooden porch, the sun slipping low behind the trees, creating long shadows over the wildflower beds that look like they haven’t been touched in a while. The paint is chipped here and there, but somehow that just adds character.
Jake nudges the door open, and it swings wide with a groan. I catch the faint scent of pine mixed with something older—maybe the remnants of a long-forgotten fire or just years of quiet living.
“Alright,” Jake says with a grin, nodding at Maya. “Show us your domain.”
She laughs softly, stepping inside first. The floorboards creak under her boots.
The living room is big, open, with a stone fireplace taking center stage. Ethan runs a hand over the mantle, his eyes lighting up.
I’m checking out the kitchen next—old but sturdy cabinets, a farmhouse sink, room enough to cook without bumping elbows.
“Imagine the dinners we could have here,” Maya murmurs, her eyes bright. “Cooking together, laughing, making a mess.”
Jake pokes his head around the corner. “And I call dibs on the grill outside.”
We wander upstairs, the stairs creaking under our weight. Each bedroom tells its own story—the way the sunlight hits the walls, the worn wood underfoot.
“Baby’s room should be that one,” Ethan says, nodding toward the smallest bedroom with the sweetest little window seat.
Maya’s face softens. “Yeah, I can see it.”
Jake grins and spins around dramatically. “I’ll take the room with the best view. That one right there.” He points to the one overlooking the backyard, wildflowers and woods beyond.
I’m quieter, just standing by the window, thinking about everything—the house, the baby, the three of them—and how messy and beautiful this is going to be.
Maya comes up beside me and slips her hand into mine. “What are you thinking?”
“About us,” I say honestly. “About how this place—this whole thing—feels like a fresh start. Like we’re actually building something real.”
She smiles, squeezing my hand. “We are.”
Jake bursts into a mock-serious tone. “Alright, team, decision time. Who’s bringing the couch? Who’s in charge of decorating? And who’s going to keep Maya from turning this place into a jungle with all those plants she loves?”
“Easy, tiger,” Ethan grunts. “We need to make an offer first.”
I grin at Maya, who’s eyes are shining with anticipation as she gazes around the house that very soon could be our new home.
***
Nearly a week later, I’m standing inside the relator’s office with Maya, the morning sun filtering through the crisp autumn leaves, throwing dappled shadows across the sidewalk.
Maya’s fingers lace tightly with mine, her smile a mix of excitement and nervousness, the kind that comes right before everything changes.
We’ve gotten the house quickly, thanks to a cash offer a little above asking price to really entice the seller. The previous owner jumped on the deal, and didn’t hesitate to agree when we asked for a move-in date by the end of the month.
Inside the cramped office, the realtor, Mrs. Calhoun, is guiding us through the final steps. Her soft Southern drawl is steady and reassuring.
“Now, y’all, this is the last piece—just need your signatures here, here, and here. Congratulations, it’s all official now.” She beams at us like we just won the lottery.
I glance over at Maya. Her hands tremble slightly as she signs, then looks up, her eyes meeting mine.
“Can you believe this is happening?” she whispers.
I squeeze her hand. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
Mrs. Calhoun clears her throat, pulling out a small stack of keys from her purse. “And here are the keys to your new home.”
Jake and Ethan are waiting just outside, their faces lighting up when they see us step into the daylight. Jake’s grin is impossibly wide, while Ethan’s eyes are calm but shining with happiness.
We pile into Maya’s house afterward—empty moving boxes scattered everywhere, waiting to be filled. Jake pulls two bottles of sparkling grape juice from the fridge, holding them up like trophies.
“Not quite champagne, but it’ll do, right?”
Ethan chuckles, uncorking a bottle. “I’ll toast to that.”
We gather in the living room, standing in a loose circle. Maya’s cheeks are flushed with excitement and maybe a little disbelief. I hand her a glass and our fingers brush, the touch sending a burst of warmth through me.
“To us,” Maya says softly, raising her glass.
“To the future,” Ethan adds, his v
I lift my glass last, smiling wide. “And to the home we’re about to make together.”
The glasses clink, and the sound feels like a promise—sharp and bright. We sip slowly, laughter bubbling up as the tension of the day melts away.