“Hey, you,” I say, resting my hand on Harley’s back, and he turns around with a smile. I rake my eyes over him, seeing him covered in dirt from the gardening he has been doing all day. It’s been three days since the theatre, and Harley moved my baby and me into his bedroom. He had already emptied a wardrobe for us. My eyes cant move away from the muscled body under his shirt, the way his hair is down like it always is when he gardens. And finally, to meet his amused, green eyes.

“What exactly are you thinking about?” he asks, and I grin.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I reply.

“I’m nearly finished here, and then I will have a shower and cook if you want? And, maybe we can do whatever you were just thinking about?” he asks me.

“I can cook,” I tell him, and he nods, reaching out his dirt-covered hands to hold me.

“Err, nope. You are all dirty,” I say, making him chuckle.

“But, I want a dirty kiss from my girlfriend,” he says, standing up as I walk backwards. When I see the playful look in his eyes, I turn and run into the house. Hearing him laughing behind me all the way. I stop running when I get to the kitchen and put the baby monitor down on the side as baby girl sleeps. I’ve booked to register her birth in three days, and I still haven’t chosen a name. I don’t know why it seems so hard to do. I have a list of names, but none seem to suit her. I put some pasta on to boil and then get the ingredients out to make the cheese sauce. I’m grating cheese when my phone rings, and I pick up.

“Hello?” I ask, but no one answers. I look down at the number, seeing it’s unknown, and I keep getting these phones calls this week.

“Hello?” I ask again and still no reply. The phone goes dead, and I put it on the side. I doubt it’s anything other than someone selling something, or a dodgy line. I grate the cheese and add it to the sauce I’ve made as Harley comes into the kitchen. Harley’s hair is still slightly wet, hanging around his handsome face and he only has a pair of black, jogging trousers on, showing off his impressive chest.

“I checked baby girl, and she is fast asleep. What are you making?” he asks, coming over and sliding his hands around my waist.

“Cheese pasta,” I comment, as he kisses my cheek. “It’s going to be a little while, yet,” I tell him and turn off the heat. I drain the pasta while Harley watches, and mix it in with the sauce. I add it to a tray and put more grated cheese on top before placing the tray in the oven.

“Can I ask you to do something with me?” Harley asks me, and I turn to look at him after closing the oven.

“What’s up?” I ask. I know him well enough to see he is worried about something.

“Arthur gave me this note after I won the fights. It’s only an address, time, date, and a name I don’t recognise,” he says and hands the note to me. The address isn’t far from here, about forty minutes away, and the name ‘Julie Smith’ is written above it. At the bottom are tomorrow’s date and the time: two thirty.

“I Google searched the address, it’s a home for mentally ill people, a dodgy one at that,” Harley says with a confused look that matches mine.

“Why would he send you there?” I ask, having no clue what to make of it.

“That’s the point, I don’t know,” he says, and I hand the note back to him.

“Of course, I will go with you, I will ask my mum to come and sit with baby girl,” I comment, and he nods.

“Thank you, I doubt it’s anything, but I want you at my side, either way,” he tells me, and I lean up, kissing his cheek.

“Are you registering the baby’s name as baby girl?” he asks with a cheeky grin.

“No,” I say, chuckling.

“Okay, how about after we go to this tomorrow, we sit and go through names?” he asks, and I nod.

“I would love that,” I say.

“Harley, does it bother you that I have a daughter? That . . . well–” I blurt out, and he puts a finger to my lips.

“Can I tell you the truth?” he asks me and even though part of me doesn’t want to know, I still nod.

“A tiny part of me hates that she isn’t my daughter, not biologically, anyway. Another part of me wants to be like a dad to her. I hope one day you might let me adopt her, and marry you. I’m a hundred percent in this with you, and she comes with you. I’m not that kind of man, Tilly. I love you, and I love her, too,” he tells me, his voice strong and firm. There isn’t a part of me that doesn’t know how he feels.

“Harley,” I say with a sigh.

“You know I can’t have kids. That I want to adopt someday, it’s always been my plan. This was never my plan, but I’m a believer in fate. I think it’s fate that brought both of you to me, and I plan to keep you both happy and safe,” he tells me.

“Why don’t you come with me when I register her? I will never let Daniel near her, and I know you’re not her father, but you have been one to her since she was born. That means more,” I say.

“You mean that? I could bring my lawyer and formally adopt her that way,” he says, thinking about it.

“No one has to know she isn’t yours, Harley, if you’re on the birth certificate . . .,” I say, and he nods.

“If this is what you want,” he tells me, and I wrap my arms around him, resting my head against his chest.

“It is,” I whisper.

“We will have to tell her, someday, who her biological father really is and everything that happened. I don’t want her to hate us if she finds out any other way.”

“When she is older, we will tell her together,” I agree. I know I will have to tell my baby girl one day about her biological father, but she won’t able to understand the reasons I ran away from him until she’s older. I just hope he never finds us, not just for our sake, but for Harley’s.

I know Harley would kill him if he came anywhere near me.