Unseen Messages(189)

Estelle closed the door as Madi skipped into the corridor.

She sighed under her breath. “She’s never been any different. I used to grow tired watching her buzz around like a wind-up squirrel, but now, now I find it energizing.”

“She’s something else, I agree.”

“Best intentions, though.”

“Oh, I have no doubt.” I lowered my jaw, watching her beneath hooded eyes. “I can’t say the same for my intentions, however.” The fact that our kiss had been interrupted wasn’t forgotten by my lips or my semi-hard erection.

Estelle slinked over the tiles, slotting herself back into my arms. “Your intentions?”

“I don’t know if I should spank you for keeping such things quiet or kiss you stupid for making our future so much easier.”

Her eyes darkened at the mention of sexual punishment but guilt won. “I’m sorry, G. I’m sorry for not telling you what the tour meant.”

“I’m sorry for telling you about my past and showing you the sort of man you married.”

“I’m not. I’m honoured you trusted me enough.”

“And do you trust me?”

“Unequivocally.”

“So no more big reveals? Nothing of such epic proportions?”

She smiled. “Not that I know of.”

“That’s good.”

“Oh?”

“I can stop being mad at you now.”

“You can?”

“Yep.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means...I have another issue that needs taking care of.” My body aligned with hers, pressing my hardness against her lower belly.

“Oh, yes, that’s very important.” Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed me. “Perhaps, I should help you with that.”

“Perhaps, you should.”

Our lips connected as she breathed, “Now...where were we?”





Chapter Seventy-Eight


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

E S T E L L E

......

Money.

It can’t buy happiness.

It can buy happiness.

But it can’t buy health. It can’t buy love. It can’t buy a future that is priceless.

Money makes everything easier, but it can’t buy dreams.

And dreams are what I want.

Taken from the New Notepad of E.E.

...

OUR LIVES CHANGED immeasurably in the next few weeks.

We underwent another medical examination to ensure the vitamins were working and our bodies were putting on necessary weight. We had a meeting with search and rescue, going over their inspection grid and discussing how far off they’d been from finding us (it wasn’t that much but enough to keep us secluded). We endured more conversations with Australian immigration about our residency. Sent a massive thank you to P&O Cruises for finding us. And we visited (much to my annoyance) another dentist to ensure nothing was overlooked on the cruise.

Considering we’d been missing for three and a half years, there wasn’t much wrong with us. Only a broken heart from a teenage boy’s death and the empty space at night where a solemn girl used to be.

But when melancholy tried to take us over, we remembered what we did have.

We had each other.

We had Coco.

We were alive and found.

We were lucky.

The day after Madi visited, Galloway carted Coco and me to the closest optometrists and sat for an hour having eye exams and picking frames for a new prescription. The bounce in his step at finally getting new glasses was worth the heartache of being lost in a city we couldn’t acclimatise to.

For a week, we readjusted to the busy world. We went out for dinner and gritted our teeth through loud noises, obnoxious diners, and processed food. We put up with a temperamental toddler who demanded the quietness of the beach and nightlights of the stars. And we waited (not so patiently) for Galloway’s glasses to be created.

Some days, we braved the supermarket where everything we needed on the island was available within reaching distance for the exchange of money.

Money.

I had some.

I had a lot.

I’d come from an upbringing where a few thousand dollars in savings meant you were doing all right in the world. Heading to America with Madi meant I’d leapt from a few thousand to a few hundred thousand, fully believing my life was set.

But now, I had a few million.

And I couldn’t comprehend what such wealth would mean.

It was all so surreal.

Coco would never go without. Galloway and I need never worry about where we could live or how we would afford it.

We were lucky.

Our hardship was over, and we’d been rewarded.

However, as each day bled into the next, I couldn’t shake the feeling of depression. I was more depressed here than I’d ever been on our island (even in those terribly dark days at the end).

Here, I felt like I didn’t belong.

I still cooked by moonlight, and we hadn’t turned the television on once.

It was as if we’d become suspicious of such conveniences and preferred the simplified existence we’d enjoyed.

The only change we did accept was Madi.

She slotted into our lives as if she’d been there forever.