Unseen Messages(187)

Estelle gasped, shaking a little. “Wow, I didn’t know they could do that.”

“Well, you should’ve read the fine print.” Madi patted Estelle’s knee. “Don’t worry. I did, and I made sure I got everything you were owed, even if you were dead.”

“But...Madi...that means...” She pressed her hand against her cheek. “Oh, wow.”

“Yes, wow.”

I placed my empty beer bottle on the side table, sitting forward with my hands steepled between my legs. “Anyone want to tell me what this gibberish means? Why the hell has my wife gone white?”

“Wait, wife?” Madi gaped.

Estelle flinched. “Oh, yeah. Um...surprise?”

“Surprise?” Madi’s eyes narrowed. “First, I find you chose death over me. Now, I find out you got married and I wasn’t your maid of honour.” She clutched her heart. “You’ve wounded me. For life, I tell you. Life!”

Estelle laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Stop with the dramatics. I know I have a lot of explaining to do, but so do you. Stop teasing and repeat what you so flippantly said before.” Pointing at me, she added, “Tell him so he can stop looking at me like I’m about to pass out.”

“Are you about to pass out?” My thighs bunched, ready to launch myself from the chair. After dealing with starvation and childbirth, living with broken bones and sickness, I’d never seen her pass out.

Madi faced me, her cheeks round and rosy. “Well, Mr. ‘I Still Don’t Know Anything About You,’ your wife is worth three million, two hundred thousand, and a few other measly dollars.”

My mouth hung open. “What?”

Estelle shook her head. “I—I had no idea.”

Madi slapped her on the arm. “Didn’t I tell you you’d hit it big when I uploaded that YouTube video?”

“What YouTube video?” I inched further off my seat, drawn deeper into a conversation I couldn’t understand.

Millions?

How?

She told me she penned songs and occasionally sang. I ran a hand through my hair. She told me the singing tour was low key and hardly anyone went. She told me it meant nothing!

“Estelle...goddammit, what have you been hiding from me?”

She blushed. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You kept this from me.” My heart literally hurt. “How could you downplay something like that? Your songs on our island. Your music. Your bloody talent. I should've known a voice like yours wouldn’t go unnoticed. I should’ve seen past your blasé comments and dug deeper.”

I stood, unable to sit still any longer. “How could you keep such a secret from me?”

Estelle never took her gaze off me as I paced. Her head tilted to one side, blaring messages only for me. “You had a secret, too, remember? And you only told me a few days ago under pain of death.”

I froze. “That’s different.”

“No, it’s not.”

“How is it not? You should be proud of your accomplishments. While I should...I should—”

“What, G? You should continue to punish yourself? Find some other way to pay? You’ve paid enough, don’t you think?”

My nostrils flared. “That’s not for you to decide.”

Madi stood up, waving a white pillow from the couch. “Whoa, time out you two.”

Estelle and I glowered, but we stopped. The argument (wait, was it even an argument?) hovered, waiting for the smallest spark to erupt again.

Madi pulled a cell-phone from her back pocket. “Before you kill each other, let me show you.”

My insides clenched to think of the sun-cracked and ancient phone we’d left behind. Pictures of us younger, fatter, and scared, slowly morphing to capable survivors. Videos of Conner. Theatrical performances of him and Pippa and newborn entries of Coco.

God, I would give anything to have that bloody thing.

I rubbed at the ache in my chest as Conner’s death and Pippa’s leaving weighed heavily.

Estelle laid her hand on Madi’s as she swiped the phone’s screen with practiced fingers. “Wait, don’t show him. He doesn’t need—”

I held up my hand. “Don’t you dare say I don’t need to see this, Estelle. Don’t you dare.”

“Don’t get angry with me, Galloway.” She crossed her arms. “Just because I love you doesn’t mean I have to tell you everything.”

“Eh, yes it does.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“I would agree if it’d been something stupid like you stamp collected or hoarded stuffed toys. But bloody hell, Estelle, this is major. You’re worth millions. I’m worth nothing. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

The argument switched to a full fight.

“Compete? There is no competition, G.”

“Wrong choice of words. I’m not competing with you. But how can I accept that you have so much to offer when I have nothing?”

“Really? You’re truly going there? You can start by not saying you’re worth nothing!” She came toward me, stabbing my chest with her finger. “And money doesn’t define us, G. We were equals on that island when we had nothing. Don’t take away that equality just because a bank statement has a different number of zeros.”