I wanted.

I needed.

Her.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

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E S T E L L E

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I’ve been an idiot.

I’m the question mark on a question too hard to ask.

I’m the pause behind the sentence too hard to hear.

I’m the ellipses trailing on the confession too hard to read.

I’m the breath waiting to speak the truth too stupid to believe.

Taken from the notepad of E.E.

...

WORDS COULDN’T DESCRIBE how singular and special such a simple thing like a roof was.

It wasn’t perfect.

It wasn’t airtight, rainproof, or even safe from bugs, but it was a roof and that was indescribable.

Waking up after our first night in our new home made me happier than I’d been in years. Happier than being on stage and performing to countless listeners. Happier than signing a million-dollar contract with my producer.

I’d kissed Galloway.

The air had cleared.

Tonight, I would tell him that I truly wanted him and finally indulge in the pleasure I’d denied both of us.

I shivered at the thought of touching him again, kissing him, finally feeling him thrust inside me.

Joy was hard to quantify, but I couldn’t remember being so happy as I left the house and prepared a breakfast of crab and fish for my still slumbering family.

Sighing peacefully, I glanced at the ashes smeared on the lintel over the doorway. The children had used the soot from the fire last night to name our castaway habitat.

The name wasn’t relevant or unique. Just a play on sounds that worked perfectly.

BB-FIJI

Bamboo Bungalow Fiji.

The ash christening would be washed away as soon as another rain shower arrived, but for now...the dark smudges told a story of people who’d finally found contentment in terrible adversity.

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Lightning flashed out to sea, far enough away from us that it didn’t spark fear and send us running, but close enough to threaten that the storm might change direction and come toward us.

If rain hit, we would restock our dwindling water supplies, and for the first time, be semi-dry thanks to a roof and shelter.

I actually wanted it to rain. I wanted the blissful euphoria of lying in bed, listening to the droplets and not be in the midst of it.

“Do we have time to finish?” Conner eyed the horizon. The sun had set and once again another night had fallen.

Tonight was New Year’s Eve, and once again, I didn’t share the date. Our goals and resolutions wouldn’t change.

Surviving.

That was our ultimate and only purpose.

Our old city rhythm had well and truly become history. We had no alarm clocks or rush-hour traffic; no bills to pay, no stress of social niceties. We worked harmoniously, ate happily, and kept busy throughout the day. This new rhythm snuck up on us so sedately, we didn’t even notice it’d happened.

Galloway and I had smiled and found every reason we could to touch one another while performing our tasks. Every brush and whisper sent desire cycloning inside me, spiralling with strength until a tornado billowed in my soul.

Tonight.

Once the children were in bed.

Things would finally be resolved between us. Being together would be our celebration and welcome of a new year.

“We have a few hours before it comes this way, I think.” Passing Galloway’s walking stick to Pippa, I added, “If it even swings this way. It might stay out to sea.”

Pippa took the stick, chewing her bottom lip. “I hope so. I don’t like thunder.” She shuddered. “Reminds me too much of the noise when we crashed.”

Galloway smiled softly. “You too, huh? Thought that was just me.”

I had no doubt he didn’t mind thunder—but the fact he was willing to come across as a scaredy-cat to support her made my body melt.

Over the past month, the message writing had become an integral part of our nightly routine. Some nights, we didn’t bother, but it’d become valuable in a strange way. We focused on different things: fears, wishes, favourite hobbies, ultimate experiences, what we missed most.

Tonight, the theme was gratefulness.

I pointed at the sand. “What are you most thankful for, Pip?”

She bent over, doing her best to scratch out two simple words. I’m alive.

Coming from such a tiny, orphaned girl, it was one of the most touching things I’d ever read.

An angry thunderclap boomed on the horizon. Perhaps the weather was heading our way, after all.

She jolted but bravely handed the stick to her brother.

Conner took it, quickly etching his sentence.

His was no better for my heartstrings. I’m grateful for Galloway, and the skills he’s shown me. I can build and fish because of him.

“That’s all on you, Co.” Galloway hugged the boy. “You’re a great student.”

Conner grinned, his tanned face lighting up. “It helps that I like my teacher.”

Pinching the stick, Galloway scrawled: I’m grateful for the sun reminding me that every new day brings a better tomorrow.

My heart no longer had a normal beat around him. It spiked and flopped and sparked and galloped. His comment made it do all four.

With hooded eyes, Galloway gave me the walking stick.

I blanked.

I’m grateful for life.

I’m grateful for who I am.

I’m grateful for tonight and what will happen.

In the end, all I wrote was: I’m grateful for every moment because without them, I wouldn’t be living at all.