I refused to use my walking stick any more than necessary and today was a day without it.
Gritting my teeth, I fought through the ache and did my best to hide my limp. She didn’t say a word as I moved with her, closer and closer to the house.
My fingers itched to touch her. Normally, I would fight the urge, but this time...I didn’t deny myself.
My hand curled around hers, holding loosely to give her the opportunity to pull away.
She didn’t.
Her grip tightened around mine, and together we entered our home.
The second her toes left sand and hit bamboo flooring, she bounced in place. Her black bikini top jiggled as her breasts moved; her cotton shorts bravely stayed up even with a few holes on the waistline. “It’s amazing.”
I’d painstakingly spliced, tied, and flattened the hard-wearing bamboo to finally have a floor that didn’t resemble a beach.
Conner and Pippa had already claimed their beds.
Their bright faces beamed. “You made us our own room.” Conner shook his head. “Wow, man. Thanks.”
It’d taken many hours of not having him there to help, but I’d inserted a few partitions in the house to make it more private. There were no doors, but Conner had his own spot with a partition blocking him from Pippa. It would be simple to remove the flax frond wall if they wanted to be together, but this way...they could have a normal sibling relationship without encroaching on each other.
Estelle drifted to the right where I’d put our wing.
Ours.
Only if she accepts me and stops fighting whatever exists between us.
I’d done the same thing on this side.
Another temporary wall separated her sleeping space from mine, but I hoped in time, we could reposition it to block the kids off and have our own private bedroom to do whatever we pleased away from the attentive eyes of youth.
Her fingers trailed over everything. From the natural walls to the fully stocked beds with a thick layer of fresh leaves to make a comfortable, warm, and no longer sandy resting spot. I’d arranged Estelle’s blankets just like a hotel would and even placed a tiny white flower on top. All that was missing was chocolate wrapped in fancy gold paper on the pillow.
The window holes let light in and a gentle breeze, keeping it cool while the shade finally gave our eyes a rest from the glare of fiery sunshine.
The middle of the house stored the cups and bowls we’d carved from coconut shells, the necklaces Pippa had made from fish vertebrae, and countless tools we’d adopted to make our life easier.
Shelving held the Swiss Army knife and axe, safe and ready for use whenever we required. We even had stored food, mainly salted fish with another bowl holding a variety of leaves and taro, along with a piece of fuselage hammered into a deep catchment holding fresh water.
We didn’t have a card house that would blow over like dominoes. We didn’t have a tent or lean-to. We had roots. Foundation. And for the first-time since we crashed, I truly took stock of what we’d achieved and how far we’d come from city dwellers to wild islanders.
We’d created this from nothing.
We’d forged bonds and skills through hard work and determination.
We’d become more than we ever thought we would.
I’m happy.
My heart shone like a torch as Estelle twirled in the centre of the house, smiling at the roof above her head. Watching her relax and throb with gratitude crucified my desire.
I was happy.
But I could be happier.
And I couldn’t wait any longer to find the ultimate paradise.
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