“Fine. Begging isn’t necessary.” Pulling my surprise from behind my back, I handed it to her. I hadn’t wrapped it...not that we had any pretty paper to wrap with. But I hadn’t bothered with a leaf or anything.

Maybe, I should’ve.

Crap, I really should’ve wrapped it.

Nerves fluttered in my gut. I’d done my best. I’d sharpened the Swiss Army knife and spent most of the morning trying not to screw up.

It wasn’t pretty.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was the best I could do...for now.

I tensed, seeing every flaw on the copied face of her favourite stuffed kitten, Puffin.

“Oh, my...” Pippa smoothed the carved creature in her hands. “It’s amazing!”

Hardly.

But the gratefulness in which she accepted my haphazardly rudimentary gift threatened to unravel what resemblance I had left as a man. A convicted man. A felon.

For so many years, I’d allowed only hate and anger to control me. Now, here in a different type of imprisonment, I found love and hope fuelled me with no greater power.

I smiled. “Happy Birthday, Pippi.”

Estelle gasped. “Galloway...” Her eyes watered. “That’s...it’s beautiful.”

“Pfft. It sucks. But it’s my first attempt. Next one, I’ll do better.”

“You always say that. And I keep saying that I love your first endeavours.”

Love.

My heart skipped a beat at the thought of ever earning such feelings.

“I don’t want a second one.” Pippa hugged the wooden figurine, complete with indented tail and carved whiskers. “I want this one. I love it.” Pippa rained my cheeks in kisses. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. It’s perfect.”

I laughed, waving her away. “Well, I’m glad you like it. You’re welcome.”

She took off, parading it in front of Conner, doing her best to make him jealous.

Connor had a point. What the hell could I make for the teen when he turned fourteen? He wouldn’t exactly settle for a crappily carved kitty.

Estelle snuggled closer, her lips brushing my ear. “That’s how you cut yourself. Carving that?”

I nodded, flushing with heat. “Yep.”

“I love it, Galloway. Seriously. You made her so happy today. Thank you.” Her finger tipped my chin, guiding my face to her. I obeyed the fluttering touch, bowing my head to kiss her.

We kissed for a long time.

We kissed for the shortest time.

But I fell just as hard regardless.

I loved this woman.

And I didn’t know how much longer I could avoid telling her.

I didn’t know what held me back. She already knew the depth of feelings (how could she not with the way I watched her) but I wanted the moment to be perfect. I wanted her to know that I didn’t just love her for being here but because she was mine forever.

Tonight.

Perhaps tonight, I would finally be able to tell her.

.............................

For the rest of the afternoon, Pippa played with her carved cat, now named Mr. Whisker Wood, and Conner invented a new relay game where they chased each other on the beach, swam in the ocean, and flew through the sky like birds rather than stranded children.

The sun glided across the sky, illuminating us with happiness before finally descending and snuffing itself out on the sea-owned horizon.

As dusk turned to darkness and dinner was eaten and cleaned away, Estelle stood and looked at the tired children with such love in her eyes, I swore a cluster of planets existed in her gaze.

It was more than just love. It was contentment. Satisfaction. Fulfilment.

Who would’ve thought such things existed in the middle of nowhere.

We were all drowsy from eating, and my eyes turned heavy. However, the moment the kids were asleep, I had grand plans of what I would do to transform the bamboo grove before Estelle joined me.

I had a gift for Estelle, too, and it wasn’t just in my shorts.

Estelle shifted, pushing herself up onto her elbows and shaking her hair over her shoulders to tangle in the sand. She looked like a mermaid who’d climbed from the ocean for one magical evening. She looked otherworldly...like she would vanish just like every other mythical creature in the storybooks.

Scooting into sitting position, she twirled her fingers.

She’s nervous...why?

Keeping her eyes down, Estelle murmured, “I have one more gift for you, Pip. If that’s okay?”

Pippa sat up from sprawling on the flax blanket by the fire. Her little face turned solemn. “You’re going to sing for me?”

My heart stopped beating.

Ever since Estelle let it slip that she was a songwriter, she’d refused to tell me more, constantly changing the subject as if it was unimportant to our current situation. But I wasn’t above admitting I followed her sometimes when she thought she was alone. I saw her scribbling in her notebook. I listened covertly when she hummed certain lines and sang gentle lullabies to send the kids to sleep.

I stole her secrets one by one until I knew how passionate she was about music. And what a talented singer she truly was.

Not that I could tell her.

I wasn’t supposed to know.

To hear her finally give up this part of her coveted life would be the greatest gift.

Estelle clasped her hands, unsuccessfully hiding her shaking fingers. “Yes, if you’ll let me.”

Pippa dug her heels into the sand, hugging her knees. “I’d love it. Please.”