Pippa (bless her heart) had tried to give me her mother’s ring. She’d said, between rolling tears, that her mother would want it to be worn.
My eyes had threatened to water like hers, but I’d curled her fingers around the diamond and kissed her forehead. I’d told her that the ring was hers. One day, it would be an heirloom for her daughter and it should be treasured.
“Okay, we have the rings.” Conner rubbed his face. “I guess, um...the power vested in me...by um, our island and the turtles, I pronounce you man and—”
“Wait!” Pippa bounced on the spot. “You didn’t ask if anyone objects.”
Estelle burst out laughing.
I struggled to hold in a chuckle. “Seriously, kid, you’re ruining my ego here.” I slung my arm over her tiny shoulders. “Do you object to me marrying this woman and having a baby with her and giving you a little sister or brother to play with?”
A calculating gleam entered her gaze. “I don’t object if it’s a sister. If it’s a brother, I do.”
Estelle laughed harder. “Sorry to disappoint, Pippi, but I can’t guarantee that and we have no way of knowing.”
She pouted. “Oh. Well, in that case. No, I have no objects.”
“Objections?” I squeezed her closer.
“Objections. No, I don’t have any of those, either.”
Conner smirked. “Honestly, and you call yourself smarter than me.” He ducked as Pippa whacked him with Puffin.
We couldn’t get married without the stuffed cat as our official witness.
He ducked. “Watch it!”
“Can we perhaps get back to the wedding?” I arched an eyebrow, doing my best not to laugh.
“Fine.” Conner grinned. “For the record, I have no objections. However, seeing as I’ve had a crush on Estelle since we crashed, I’m not going to let you put a step wrong; otherwise, I’m stealing her.”
My smile fell.
What?
Estelle giggled nervously. “That’s nice of you to protect my honour, Conner, but I’m sure Galloway won’t mess up.”
Conner and I never stopped glaring.
I didn’t expect it to happen, but the competition I’d feared had borderlined reality.
Conner meant what he said.
Just how deep do his feelings go for Estelle? And why didn’t I pay attention?
Dropping his gaze, Conner said, “Do you take Estelle as your wife?”
It wasn’t exactly the line I’d taught him to say, but it would do.
The sooner she was married to me, the sooner Conner could get over his little crush and respect that Estelle was mine forever. I pitied him that he was alone when no doubt his libido was through the roof, but I also didn’t want to fight with him.
And I would if it came down to it.
Something about living on an island made animalistic tendencies rise to the surface.
“I do.”
Looking at Estelle, Conner’s face softened. “And do you take Galloway as your husband?”
Estelle only had eyes for me.
She gave me a heart attack and resuscitated me all at once with a single glance.
“I do.”
Rubbing his nose, Conner announced, “In that case, I now pronounce you married. You may French kiss or do whatever it is that you do.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Grabbing Estelle by her nape, I yanked her close and kissed her.
I kissed her until my trousers were tight and lungs were empty.
I kissed her and wiped away everything that’d happened.
I kissed her with a promise that we might not have a priest or official document but this was as real to me as any ceremony.
We were married.
Until death did us part.
And even then, I’d put up a fight to keep her.
.............................
That night, once the kids were in bed, and we’d eaten an amazing dinner, Estelle and I headed to our bamboo sanctuary that’d become our date night and sexy time hang-out.
There, I made love to her.
I stripped her bare.
I kissed every inch.
I licked her all over.
And when I entered her, I did it as her husband.
I vowed that we were one now.
And no matter what happened, I would take care of her.
.............................
DECEMBER
The day of our fight and consequential marriage helped clear the air completely.
November trailed into December, and we respected each other’s feelings. We were careful to be open and honest about how things were. And somehow, we became closer rather than drifted apart.
Estelle still hated when I laid down the law, ordering her not to do something. And I did my best to hide my desire to lock her in a protective bubble, settling for treating her like filigreed china instead.
She didn’t like my bossiness but tolerated my demands for her to take it easy because she knew it came from a loving place. A completely infatuated place.
I forbid her from any heavy lifting.
I took over her job of collecting firewood.
I fished.
I cleaned.
I even helped her soak more flax until the softest strands were available for a baby blanket.
She barely tolerated me, but I never felt excluded if she needed some alone time. She went out of her way to make sure I felt valued and adored, and when she kissed me, she held my entire world in her palm.
We’d found balance.
We’d become a team rather than enemies.
By day, I worked on building an extension to our home, creating a lean-to that was accessible from our bedroom where the newly built crib would rest.
I just hope my skills design a better crib than a raft.
I still cringed, thinking how quickly and disastrously the bamboo platform had broken apart. Turned out, I should stick to land architecture, not boats.
By night, I massaged her back, combed her hair, and rubbed her aching feet.
I didn’t let her out of my sight, and even permitted Conner and Pippa to spend the night on the other side of the island as an adventure and non-traditional sleepover, just so I could make tender love to her in front of the fire without having to traipse to our grove.
She ate what I told her to, ensuring she had her ration and most of mine to feed both mother and growing child. As she grew bigger, I grew skinnier as I refused to fish too often so I wasn’t far from her.
Conner picked up a lot of my slack, taking on more duties, and restocking our pile of coconuts and water reservoirs without me asking him to.
Not once did he give me grief, and I never caught him gawking at Estelle in inappropriate ways.
Perhaps, he’d only been joking. Not that it mattered; I’d keep an eye on him just in case.
Once again, we chose not to celebrate Christmas.
The birthdays were enough to remind us of quickly passing time. However, we did plan a big meal and bonfire when the turtles returned.
We spent the night watching the massive beasts haul their bulk from the tide and repeat the same process from a year ago, laying countless eggs, doing their best for their offspring’s chance, before slinking back into the sea in silence.
.............................
JANUARY
Pippa had another birthday.
It felt like only yesterday she’d turned eight. The little girl, resembling a washed-up princess, slowly turned into a young woman complete with long legs, beseeching eyes, and a wicked intelligence that thought outside the box and allowed us to experiment with different materials, find plants that provided pain relief for mosquito bites, and flowers that helped with swelling and sprains.
We weren’t often hurt but everyday scrapes and injuries were common. She somehow morphed into the pharmacist of our island-world, constantly murmuring with Estelle about what to try next and the risks versus reward of the red and yellow flow
ers decorating our beach.
Our larder slowly housed a small apothecary, too. Growing with herbs and supplies as analysis turned to verification.
I had no doubt if she were back in a city with schooling and teachers, she would’ve been top of her class and already on her way to deciding her career.
I’d asked her a week ago what she wanted to be when she grew up.
And despite the caustic reply that she doubted we’d get off the island, she wanted to be a doctor.
She certainly had an affinity for healing and health.
Unlike the murderer I killed.
I just hoped we wouldn’t need her adolescent skills when it came time for Estelle to give birth.
Chapter Fifty-One
...............................................
E S T E L L E
......
FEBRUARY
IT STARTED SLOW.
Painful and slow.
But with an urgency that terrified.
The skin around my distended belly rippled with pain as the contraction wrenched me from sleep.
Gasping, I jerked in Galloway’s arms.
No, I’m not ready.
I’ll never be ready to face this.
Another ripple tore a louder gasp from me, rousing G.
Damn, I didn’t want to wake him.
He’d only fuss, and he’d hardly slept at all this past week, worrying about me, constantly looking at the calendar to pinpoint when I was due. I hated that he gave me his food, willingly hurting himself to ensure I had more than I needed. He was far too kind. Too generous. I didn’t deserve it after the way I’d acted.
I twirled my flax wedding ring. Already, it was almost non-existent with wear but the weight of our marriage and bond of love seared into my flesh like a tattoo.
I adored him.
And I was so sorry this had happened when we were so unprepared.
The contraction tightened again, stealing my breath.
He roused, his eyes opened, hazy with sleep but sharp with protectiveness. “What is it?”
I shook my head, holding up my hand to signal I couldn’t talk.
He shot to his knees, his eyes wild.
He acted more panicked than I did. But that was because I’d got better at hiding my fear.
Ever since our fight, I’d been very conscious of how I came across to him. My thoughts had remained locked on my baby. He was now (as awful as it might seem) second best. I couldn’t help it. It was my body making me pick the most important.
And for now, the soon-to-be-born baby was more important.
Not that I could ever tell him that because I loved him. With all my heart.
My heart had just expanded to encompass more.
The contraction faded.
I relaxed.
It could just be another false alarm.
I’d had a few of those the past week. Sometimes, it was hard to tell what was preparation and what was the rowdy baby in my belly.
I’d been afraid I wouldn’t carry to full term. But by some miracle, I had. (Mainly thanks to Galloway’s constant monitoring). However, I was about a week early. Was that a good thing or bad? Was the baby fully grown or not? Was it too big for my body or would I deliver without injury?
So many questions.
So many terrors.
And no one to give me answers.
I had no way to tell if it was a boy or girl, healthy or deformed. But I knew from the strength of its kick that it wanted out. It stupidly wanted to enter a world where I couldn’t guarantee its safety.
“Stel...is it the baby?”
I stroked his cheek. “Don’t worry about it. Just a cramp. Go back to sleep.”
He sat up instead. “Let me get you some water. Do you need to use the bathroom?”
The concern and hopeful fear in his gaze undid me.
I smiled softly. “I love you, G.”
His shoulders slouched. His hands came up and captured my cheeks. He kissed me long and slow, tasting and worshipping me all at once. “I love you more.”
I laughed as he gathered me in his embrace. “I don’t think we need to debate who loves who more.”
Rearranging his grip, he hauled me to my feet. With him acting as my crutch, he guided my waddling pregnant form from our house to the smouldering fire outside.
The stars shone fiercely, determined not to give up their velvet patch as the horizon slowly brightened.
“Wait there. I’m going to get you a coconut. You need to drink and nibble on something.”
I’d learned not to argue.
There was no point.
He never listened anyway.
.............................
The sun slowly set on the most painful day of my existence.
The false alarm hadn’t been false at all and the banding agony only grew stronger and more painful as morning became afternoon and afternoon became evening.
I didn’t want to eat or drink.
I couldn’t move without Galloway’s aid.
I was tired, cranky, and in tears fearing what would happen.
The nightmare that’d haunted me for months seemed to come true the longer I was in labour. Contraction after contraction, my body tried to deliver my child, but contraction after contraction, it failed.
My water didn’t break, and slowly, my energy dwindled. I rode the pain rather than fought with it to push.
The children had spent the day by my side, alternating between bathing my sweaty body with seawater and holding fresh coconut juice to my lips. Galloway hovered like a heartsick parent, looking as if he’d happily go to war with death itself if it meant I would be safe.
The hopelessness in his gaze quadrupled my heart rate until I struggled to breathe.
And now, the moon took centre stage again, and still, I struggled.
How long did labour normally last for? Three hours? Three days? I didn’t have much more to give if it was any longer.
Don’t give up.
You can’t give up.
I couldn’t leave him. Leave them.
The night I’d taken Galloway as my husband was the night I’d vowed not to die in childbirth.
My place was here, by his side.
I. Will. Not. Die.
Panting through yet another contraction, I tensed until the pain subsided and collapsed into an exhausted sleep in Galloway’s arms.
.............................
I woke to wetness and shooting sharp pain.
Galloway shifted behind me; his arms tightened around my shoulders where he’d kept me safe, lying on his chest with my hips between his legs. The fire flickered over us, showing my swollen belly and his mangled ankle disfigured from the crash.
The pain wrapped awful pincers around me, squeezing my uterus until I screamed.
Something wanted me to push.
I needed to push.
Push.
Push.
Push!
I screamed again, giving in to the urge but coming up against more agony than I’d ever felt before.
I can’t.
You have to.
I’m not ready.
You are.
I wasn’t aware as Galloway moved me to stand. I didn’t comprehend as I left the sandy beach and somehow ended tucked in a fetal position in his arms.
“Where—where are you taking me?” My voice was weak and wobbly. I was thirsty, so thirsty. I was hungry, so hungry.
Everything inside argued with itself. I was upside down and back to front. Too hot, too cold, tired, ready, sick, energized, dying, alive.
I don’t know what to do!
Push. Push. Push.
“Your water broke in your sleep. You need to push, Estelle. And I’m going to help any way I can.”
No, I don’t want to. I want to believe this isn’t happening.
“I want to go to sleep.”
“You can’t. Not until you’ve delivered.”
“How is carr
ying me going to help me do that?”
He didn’t reply, merely carted me down the beach and straight into the cooling sea. The hotness of my skin welcomed the salty freshness.
I sighed in relief.
Yes, that’s better.
I’ll just live here.
Forever.
He waded a little deeper until the water lapped his waist before reverently letting me go. The buoyancy of the water and weightlessness of no longer fighting such heaviness of my womb was sheer heaven.
The tide cradled me, swishing me back and forth as it lapped against the sand. My feet brushed the sandy bottom, but I made no effort to stand. Reclining, I tipped my head back, wallowing on the surface like a spread starfish while my belly reached for the waxy moon.
Galloway sank beside me, ducking under to slick back his long dark hair. He’d shaved with the Swiss Army knife a week ago, and his stubble matched that of a tortured alpha male with sexy, dangerous shadows.
“I don’t know if it’s safe being in here while giving birth.” I hated to suggest we should leave after finding some comfort, but the very real fear of sharks wouldn’t leave.
“I’ll watch over you.” He scanned the black horizon. In over a year on our island, we’d grown accustomed to seeing in the dark. Our eyesight hadn’t improved (Galloway’s most likely had deteriorated without his glasses) but somehow, we understood the world a little more not having electric light blinding us every time the sun set.
“Besides, we’ve never seen a shark in our reef before.” He grinned. “You’re safe.”
“Just because they haven’t been here before doesn’t mean they won’t co—” Another contraction cut me off mid-word. My teeth clacked together and my hands landed on my belly, doing my best to push internally and externally.
Heavy hands landed on mine, gently adding pressure to the struggling baby beneath my skin. I looked up, drowning in his elysian blue eyes.
I didn’t speak.
He didn’t speak.
But we agreed that he would help me, and together, we would survive this night.
Everything else faded as I turned inward to my task. I didn’t ask where Conner and Pippa were. I didn’t struggle when Galloway went behind me and supported my legs so I could squat on the sandy bottom. I didn’t cry out even as my body bellowed and fought against stretching wide enough to grant life.