“Do you want a song you know or an original?”

Pippa chewed her bottom lip, full of seriousness. “Could you sing one about me? About us?”

I couldn’t move as Estelle glanced at me before straightening her spine. She looked petrified but resolute as if she’d hidden this part of herself for too long and no longer could.

Sing for me.

Please, God, sing.

“I can. The lyrics belong to a song I’ve tentatively labelled Sand Solitude. I can sing that if you want.”

Pippa shifted to her stomach, resting her chin on her upturned hands. “I’d like that. Pretty please, sing that one.”

Conner mimicked his sister, holding his face to listen. “I’m down with that one, too. Rock on, Stelly.”

Estelle smiled tightly, her concentration inward.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t move, locked into my recline with my legs splayed and elbows dug into the beach behind me. I had an awful fear that if I moved, I’d spook her and she wouldn’t sing.

I need her to sing.

Already, my cock twitched at the epic joy of finally hearing her. I’d be in huge trouble before the song was over.

I wanted her beyond anything.

If she sang for me...I doubted I’d be able to stand for a month.

For the longest second, she didn’t move.

But then, heaven happened.

She closed her eyes and let herself come alive. She transformed from the girl I’d fallen in love with to a goddess framed by fire and marked by ambrosia itself.

Her husky voice held the melody better than any instrument, so fresh and pure, so dark and sexy. Lyrics and verses tumbled from her mouth, wrapping around us like our green fishing net, capturing us forever.

In that single moment, there was no place on earth I would rather be.

“Once there was a little girl who played upon the shore. Her parents loved her deeply, her brother so completely, and her world was magical more and more.

Once there was a young girl who crashed upon the beach. Her past no longer relevant, her old life beyond negligent, and her world now full of prayers and beseech.

But there she found salvation.

In the form of unwanted vacation.

By a man sworn to damnation.

And a woman with no foundation.

Once there was a little girl who swam within the waves. Her smiles hardly changing, her happiness darkly raging, and her world now black and brave.

Once there was a young girl who flew above the earth. Her soul was free, her future at sea, and her world vastly different in wealth and worth.

But there she found salvation.

In the form of unwanted vacation.

By a man sworn to damnation.

And a woman with no foundation.

Once there was a little girl who harnessed hell itself. Her past long forgotten, her will never rotten, and her world full of tempest and war with herself.

Once there was a young girl who fought against death for life. Her soul will survive, her future will revive, and her world will finally be free of hardship and strife.”

And that was how Estelle stole everything and made me hers.

For eternity.

Chapter Forty-Five

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

E S T E L L E

......

My world changed from notes and quavers to flesh and sinew.

I’m no longer defined by music, but by the days I spend alive. I’m no longer afraid of stepping from the pages and living. Truly living.

I’m no longer interwoven with fear but standing free with my pockets bursting with possibility.

My heart is the drum, my feet are the chords, and my fate is my finest melody.

Taken from the notepad of E.E.

...

ONCE WITHIN A song, a woman who trusted in nothing finally found the strength to stop doubting everything.

“G?” I smoothed my gold negligée (the one piece of clothing not tatty and sea-faded) and cursed my fluttering heart.

This is ridiculous.

I lived with the man. I cooked, I laughed, I joked, I argued, I survived with him by my side. He knew what I looked like tired and cantankerous. He knew my smiles and tears. He knew me in torn t-shirts and boring bikinis.

Just because I’d dressed up and done my best to pinch some colour into my cheeks and plaited my hair with the same flowers he laid on my breakfast every morning didn’t mean this was any different to everyday living.

So why does it feel so completely scary?

If it wasn’t any different...why did my heart jackrabbit and my breath come shallow?

Because it is.

We’d had sex before. This wasn’t new. I’d seen him naked. He’d been inside me.

But this...it had a whole new level of romanticism and connection.

My flip-flops stopped making a sound as I drew to a halt in the bamboo grove.

Galloway had vanished after dinner, leaving me to tidy up and get the children to brush their teeth (with well-used toothbrushes), rinse their faces, and climb into bed.

He’d told me to meet him here.

I had no idea what to expect.

I jumped as a twig cracked in the dark. My eyes flared in the gloom, doing their best to see. “Galloway?”

He smiled, coming from the darkness to gather me in the tightest embrace. “You came.”

We shared a brief kiss. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know.” He let me go. “Lots of reasons.”

Stalking forward, he took my hand and guided me into the magical grotto he’d created. Not only had he layered a few of my flax blankets on the ground with a couple rolled up for pillows, but he’d also gathered coconut shells and captured fire in their half-round shapes for illumination. The flickering lights surrounded us with warmth while the wind-up torch from the cockpit wedged in the bamboo stems to create an up-lit effect. The spooky shadows of the skinny, sensuous leaves seemed like an intricately woven bed-head.