Oh, my God, I’ve missed her.
After so long, I finally had my best friend in my arms. As we sat hugging on the tiled entryway, I expected a sarcastic quip, a punch to my arm, an insider joke. Something familiar within our dynamics of friendship.
However, she shocked me stupid when she burst into ugly sobs, burrowing her face into my neck.
Galloway froze, his delicious body shining with rogue droplets from his long hair. He cleared his throat. “I, eh... I’ll leave you guys to it.”
Vaguely, I was aware of him scooping up our naked daughter and disappearing into the single bedroom off the lounge, closing the door quietly behind him.
My heart went with my family, but my attention focused on crying Madeleine. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here.”
“I thought—I thought you were dead!” Her wails tangled with my hair, knotting with every sob. “I—I—” She couldn’t finish, clutching me harder. “When they called me and said you’d chartered a helicopter that crashed...I thought they had the wrong person. What were you thinking? Why would you do something like that! You left me!”
A smile broke my face.
A laugh followed not long after. “You mean to tell me...that after all this time claiming you don’t cry at TV shows or shed a tear in books, you’re crying because I’ve come back from the grave?”
She pulled away. Her eyes puffed red and tears glittered on her cheeks. “When you say it that way, no, I’m not happy you’re alive.”
I nodded coyly, smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. “Oh, really? So the tears...that was staged, huh?”
“I didn’t miss you.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“It was just a publicity stunt.” Her nose tipped up with airs and graces. “I know you. You’d rather go native and hide away for years rather than go on stage and sing. I’m your manager. You don’t run away from your manager!”
“I can if she’s a tyrant.”
Her cheeks reddened. “I was not a tyrant.”
Giggles percolated in my chest. “Do this, Estelle. Do that. We have to go shopping. We have to travel around the world together. Oh, oops, I just made you an internet star, now you must always obey me.”
She swatted me, unable to hide her smile anymore. “You liked it.”
“No way.”
“Go on...admit it. You missed me.”
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“Nope.”
We glared at each other, slipping straight back into awesome pointless bickering. Our fake glares switched to watery welcome and we fell back into a hug.
“God, I’m so glad you’re back.” She kissed my cheek. “Just next time you need your space, tell me and I’ll leave. Like instantly. Not like before. I won’t hound you. I promise. Just...don’t try to kill yourself again, okay?”
I stroked her curly red hair. I’d always been slightly jealous of her amazing colour. Where mine had been boring blonde (not stark white from the sun), I’d felt monochromatic compared to her. Especially seeing as I favoured a wardrobe of greys and pastels, and she preferred vibrant almost garish designs.
Pulling away, I pointed at her blotchy nose. “You have snot mingling with your tears. It’s kind of gross.”
She pouted. “Well, you have no boobs anymore. So I think I win.”
I glanced down, hastily rearranging the gaping neckline of my dress. “Just because you have double D’s doesn’t make you queen.”
“It does.” She pinched air. “Just a teeny tiny bit.”
“You suck.”
“No, you do.”
Launching herself at me, her arms lassoed tight and her lips landed once again on my cheek. “Estelle, I’m warning you. Don’t ever leave me again.”
I laughed.
But my heart cracked.
To her, everything was perfect. I was home. I was safe. I was exactly where I’d been three and a half years ago.
But my soul was no longer here.
I’d left it in Fiji, on our beach, in our bungalow, with Conner swimming at sunset.
I didn’t belong here anymore.
And I couldn’t make promises I didn’t know if I could keep.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
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G A L L O W A Y
......
I WAS ALONE with two women.
Two gossiping women.
Coco didn’t appreciate the loud conversation, and once Estelle and her friend had calmed down, I dressed Coco in her store bought (no longer tatty t-shirt) diaper and placed her into the nest on the floor where the comforter from the bed had turned into a hard but warm welcome.
The moment she lay down, her little eyes drooped.
I couldn’t blame her.
The past few days had been immensely tiring. For everyone. I hadn’t been to sleep yet (neither had Estelle from talking all night) and the antibiotics had boosted my system so fast I forgot I was knocking on death’s front gate only a week ago.
I felt okay, but my energy levels were at half capacity and the temptation to nap with my daughter rather than dress in clothing (heaven forbid) and make polite conversation (kill me now) was not appealing.