Page 34 of Tangled Desires

I stop picking at my salad, watching him carefully. It’s not weird that he lives separately from his parents exactly, but... why? There’s something he’s not saying, and the question nags at me. Not that it’s any of my business. Right?

Dad leans forward, elbows resting on the table. “Right, that’s good. So, what’s the plan when the baby gets here? You got it all worked out?”

“Dad.” My voice carries a warning, but he either ignores it or, more likely, chooses not to care.

“What?” he presses, eyes narrowing.

I clear my throat, pushing some lettuce around my plate. “Can we maybe talk about that once we have it sorted?”

“Nope. Not done.” His gaze flicks between Harrison and me, landing on Harrison. “You two together or what?” Harrison clears his throat, but before he can answer, I snort. I can’t help it.

The tension in the room is unbearable.

Dad’s eyes snap to me. “What’s so funny?”

I wave him off, biting back a grin. “Nothing. Just—no, we’re not together.”

“But you’re co-parenting, right? Gotta face the consequences. Do what’s right.” Consequences. Great. Because I wasn’t already hyper-aware of my situation. I resist the urge to crawl under the table.Yes, Dad, I had sex. Thanks for the reminder.

“We haven’t really figured that out yet,” I mumble.

Harrison straightens in his chair. “We will, sir. We’re not strangers.” His voice is calm, collected. But the wordstrangerslands funny in my stomach, twisting in a way I can’t explain. Sure, we’re not strangers—not in the literal sense. But one night together doesn’t magically make us co-parenting experts. Or friends. Or anything more than two people thrown into a situation neither of us planned for.

Dad eyes us both, nodding slowly. “Alright. As long as the kid’s taken care of, that’s what matters.”

I jump up, grabbing the plates. “I’ll clean up.”

Harrison beats me to it. “I’ve got it. You cooked.”

I blink, caught off guard. Dad leans back, a toothpick dangling from his mouth, eyebrows raised in quiet approval. Harrison rises, heading off to the kitchen without a word. Dad stretches, cracks his neck, and shuffles over to the lounge, grabbing the remote.

I rub my stomach absently, pushing my chair in. There’s no bump yet—just a bloated belly full of salad and spare ribs. Weird. Doesn’t even feel real.

When the last plate’s dried, I walk Harrison to the door. The cool evening air slaps me in the face, sharp and brisk. He pauses on the verandah, hands shoved deep in his pockets, eyes flicking out toward the quiet street.

“We should probably talk about… everything.” His words linger. The weight of Dad’s grilling earlier hits me hard. We really haven’t talked about anything—none of it.

“Yeah. We probably should.”

“Co-parenting,” he says slowly, like the word itself feels foreign. “We need to figure it out. Things have changed, but we’ve got no choice now. Might as well try to make it work, right?”

My throat tightens. Co-parenting. It sounds clean, simple—like something you’d read in a brochure. But nothing about this feels simple.

“I’m not sure how it’s all supposed to look,” I admit. Honesty. It’s all I have right now.

“You could move in with me.” The words hit like a punch. “You heard inside. I’ve got a granny flat. Two bedrooms, my own space. It could work.”

I blink at him, stunned. Move in with him? The thought makes my stomach flip—whether from nerves or nausea, I can’t tell. I fold my arms across my chest, searching for something,anything,to latch onto.

“So, what? We just play happy couple? We don’t even know each other.”

“We’ll learn,” he says. “Get to know each other. I’m not forcing you into anything; it’s just a suggestion.” I don’t respond right away, my mind spinning.Moving in with Harrison.The idea sits heavy in my chest. Leaving home, leaving Dad—it’s nauseating.He’s all I’ve got. And, honestly, I’m all he has, too. Harrison watches me, but he doesn’t push.

Finally, after a long silence, he clears his throat. “Maybe we can talk more on Saturday?”

“Saturday?” I blink, thrown off.

“Off-roading,” he says, his grin spreading wide.