Couldn’t she see this wasn’t a joking matter?
I’d done this to her.
I should never have forced her to sleep with me.
And she wanted me to come inside her? The most incredible gift she could ever give me was given because I’d already taken everything.
The moment she’d said it, the mood was broken.
My erection turned flaccid with self-hatred and I left our bed to tear through the jungle to watch the sunrise on the other side of the island.
There, I went through so many emotions.
I prayed for a miscarriage before it was too late.
I bartered with God that I would never touch Estelle again if he somehow annulled the pregnancy.
I pleaded with the baby not to hurt its mother.
I threatened the little soul and cursed it to Hell if it so much as gave her bad cramp.
Amongst my loathsome terror, I also begged that he or she would be born safely.
That a part of Estelle and me would survive, blended for eternity.
I wanted our child.
I hated our child.
I wanted a baby.
I wanted to kill it.
I went through so many feelings that by the time I returned home, I was wrung out and bloody exhausted. I’d stayed away for the full day, only returning late that night when I was sure I wouldn’t dissolve into a cursing tyrant or, worse, melt into ridiculous tears.
Estelle was pregnant.
With my child.
Shared genes and bodies and souls.
This should’ve been the happiest few months of our lives.
Not the countdown for absolute disaster.
.............................
SEPTEMBER
Estelle’s birthday fell on the 17th of September.
That meant she’d already had one on the island, seeing as we’d crashed at the end of August. Had she remembered a year ago? Or had the crash deleted such superficial events from her short-term attention?
Either way, she tried to let it slide.
She pulled a Pippa and didn’t tell anyone.
And I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t commandeered her solar-charged phone and manically shot a home movie the night before.
Pippa and Conner had adorned themselves in head-dresses of ferns and palm leaves, putting on a badly acted and laughably funny theatrical performance of Fijian cannibals.
Pippa was the delicious sacrifice and Conner was the war chief seasoning his future meal.
Sprinkling sand and ash on his little sister for taste, Conner paraded around like a pompous fool, declaring how delicious his dinner would be.
Estelle and I laughed where appropriate and oohed and ahhed in suspense. Her body had already changed, rounding and filling, looking sexier every day. I hated that I found her condition beyond attractive. I cursed my cock for wanting her ten times more.
But her hormones matched mine, and the sex...goddamn, the sex reached smouldering heights.
I wanted to be careful.
She wanted me to be rough.
I wanted to take her gently.
She wanted me to take her hard.
Every time I entered her, it was like a bloody war, leading to the most intense orgasm for both of us.
And yes, I finally came inside her.
To say it didn’t change my world would be an absolute understatement.
Switching my thoughts from sex to the kids acting, I swiped on the camera app only to see a blaring reminder on the screen not to forget Estelle turned twenty-seven at midnight.
I’d pretended I hadn’t seen, and after everyone went to bed, I snuck out, careful not to disturb my sleeping birthday girl, and spent the entire night carving a wooden heart with the words, ‘You’ll always be mine,’ by moon and firelight.
It was the truth.
She would always be mine.
No matter what happened in a few months.
No matter if our baby survived or died.
Estelle would never be alone again.
Chapter Forty-Nine
...............................................
E S T E L L E
......
There comes a time when life doesn’t listen to what you want.
It ploughs ahead, confident that you can’t jump off the journey it’s decided on.
I wish there was a way to change my destination.
Was I charging toward death?
Was I running toward motherhood?
What would happen when this was all over?
Taken from the notepad of E.E.
Final inscription.
...
OCTOBER
“G, I DON’T want you to do this.”
“Estelle, we’ve been over this.” Galloway refastened the vine tying his long hair back. A few months ago, we’d used the Swiss Army knife to cut all our hair. Me, Pippa, Conner, and Galloway.
The brittle, salt-tarnished lengths had been too straggly and annoying.
But it seemed the Fijian heat made everything grow faster, including our hair.
“We’ll be okay, Stelly.” Conner carried the crudely made oars to the sea edge. “We’re just going to test it. Make sure it floats.”
My heart hadn’t left my throat since Galloway announced he wanted to test the life raft.
After my birthday, when he made me a delicious dinner of smoked fish, flax seeds and minted taro, and presented me with the most precious wooden heart, he’d delivered the news that if we were going to leave, we had to leave now.
I was five months pregnant.
Already, my stomach had grown and heartburn was a daily nightmare. The acid racing around my chest made me snappy, and poor Pippa was in charge of steeping concoctions, sampling the leaves we knew were edible in different preparations to see if any had antacid properties.
We had (totally by fluke) found that a small fuzzy plant helped with blood clotting and decreasing inflammation. Galloway had once again injured himself on a stupid forage into the forest with no flip-flops and stood in a patch of this furry plant while chopping down a palm tree. Instead of the wound being infected and swollen, it’d remained free of flowing blood and healed in half the time it normally would. Which was just as well because cuts on our feet lingered for months, seeing as we lived in the ocean and the salt turned the wound to sea ulcers.
We’d experimented over the course of a few months and found that boiling the leaves and using as a poultice increased its effectiveness.
We had no medicines. No antibiotics. No painkillers.
But we did have a small chance at dealing with superficial cuts without issue.
However, all of that was beside the point.
Galloway was leaving.
Leaving me and my waddling fat body to bob idiotically on the bay.
“You’ll never get past the breaking waves on the reef.” I hated how pessimistic I sounded, but the thought of leaving (while halfway through my pregnancy and irritable) was not on my top ten things to do.
Along with heartburn, the tiniest flutters of my evolving baby kept my thoughts turned inward. I knew I’d ignored Galloway a little the past few weeks, but that was natural...wasn’t it?
My body was cooking a human.
It was only right for my mind to mature and prepare, too.
Galloway slid the bamboo raft onto the water, leaving it to float innocuously on the surface.
How many times had we swam in the tide and made love? How many times had Galloway carried my pregnant ass into the waves and washed my hair or massaged my back or kissed my lips as if I would smash into a trillion tiny pieces.
I loved him.
I love him.
He couldn’t leave me.
“Please, Galloway. Don’t.” Tears pricked my eyes. Along with my thoughts becoming quieter and more obsessed with what happened internally, my emotions were on the knife-edge of intensity.
I bawled for no apparent reason.
&nbs
p; I blew up over the slightest infraction.
I couldn’t stand myself, let alone understand what it was like to live with a she-monster like me.
“You’re only doing this because I’m annoying you and you want to run away from me.” My bottom lip stuck out.
I shook my head at my dramatics, rolling my eyes at this weepy, manipulative creature I’d become, but I couldn’t stop it. Whatever chemicals drenched my blood turned me from rational to insane.
Grasping his hand, I tugged him into my bulging belly. “G, I’m sorry. I won’t moan anymore. I won’t snap. I won’t do anything to annoy you ever again. If only you’ll stay. Please, say you’ll stay.”
Galloway’s arms looped around me, holding me gently but firmly. The adoration in his blue, blue eyes threatened to send me into hysterics at the thought of never seeing him again.
Tears slicked down my cheeks. It probably came across as a tactic to make him stay, but I was honestly terrified of him leaving. This wasn’t a trick. This was life or death for me.
“Estelle...don’t.” He collected my raining tears, cupping my cheeks with both hands. “I’m not going anywhere. You’ll be able to see me the entire time.”
I sniffed, doing my best to control my terribly tangled emotions but failing. “But...what if something happens.”
“Nothing is going to happen.”
“But it could.”
“Yes, it could.”
“Then, stay, dammit. It’s not worth it.”
His thumbs tightened on my cheeks. “Estelle, you’re pregnant. Remember how terrified you were at the beginning?”
I tried to remember, but strangely, those past fears had been muted. I didn’t know if it was baby hormones or sensibility, but I wasn’t nearly as freaked out. Perhaps, it was self-preservation so I didn’t go mad and try to cut myself open to avoid the horrendously painful birth.
Galloway kissed me. “Well, I’m now just as terrified. In fact, I’ve been terrified for months. And if I have a small chance that I can get you off this island before...” His eyes drifted to my large belly. “Well, before the baby arrives, then I’m going to do whatever I can to make that happen.”
Letting me go, he strode purposely to the water.
Pippa ran to him, hugging his middle. “G, I’m with Stelly. I don’t want you to go.”
My heart pounded as he ducked and squeezed his island daughter.
Daughter.
Soon, he would have another son or daughter.
A fully fledged blooded and bonded fruit of his loins.
Who the hell came up with that term? Fruit of his loins.
I curled my upper lip, realising too late that my inner thoughts probably made no sense to those watching me.
Waddling to G and Pippi, I slid my arm over her shoulders from behind, tugging her close.
I needed her closeness.
Considering I’d run all my life from being touched or getting emotionally attached to others, I now craved the company.
I never wanted to be alone again.
And he’s leaving me.
My tears began anew, tickling my chin as they rolled in sadness.
Galloway groaned. “Estelle, stop it. You’re killing me.” Grabbing my nape, he jerked me close and kissed me.
He didn’t kiss me softly. He kissed me violently with tongue and taste and tantalizing torment.
Pippa squirmed in my embrace, crushed between Galloway and my belly.
We broke apart, smiling apologetically at the girl.
Galloway took the opportunity to hop onto the raft, his arms stabilising as the bamboo rolled with the current.
Conner was already on, balancing like a pirate, holding both paddles.
He passed one to Galloway. “Ready?”
With one last look at me, Galloway nodded. “Ready.”
There were no spinnakers to harness the wind. No rudders to steer, no masts to steady.
Just a fateful, soon-to-be-failure.
No one listened to my protests as they pushed off from the shore and paddled away.
They crossed the bay, they approached the reef, all while standing proud on their floatable platform.
.............................
NOVEMBER
We never discussed what happened that day in October.
No one said a word as Conner and Galloway swam back to shore, minus the raft and oars.
I’d been right.
The calm atoll had been a paddling haven, but when the craft reached the curling waves over the reef, it’d disintegrated beneath the smashing wet weight.
My soul hurt for Galloway’s creation. My heart wept at how much energy and time he’d put into making it. I hated his crushing disappointment.
But I was glad in a way.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to get off the island. It wasn’t that I didn’t crave medical supervision and a hospital when it came time to deliver.
But this way, the option had been stolen.
If the raft had survived and they’d broken past the reef, I would’ve had to make a choice.
A terribly, terribly hard choice.
Leave now...with meagre supplies and a body already stretched to its breaking point, or take my chances here and have an island birth.
As much as I feared my future, I didn’t have the strength to leave the only place I knew.
I didn’t have the confidence to willingly walk into the shadow of death when it was already dark enough on our piece of paradise.
Having it sink was the best thing for all of us.
Chapter Fifty
...............................................
G A L L O W A Y
......
THREE YEARS BEFORE THE CRASH
“YO, MATE.”
I swallowed my curse and faced the daily tormentors from E block. It wasn’t an afternoon in the yard without a sore jaw or verbal abuse. “What do you want, Alf?”
Alf lumbered closer, accenting a stupid swagger that didn’t hide the fact he was shorter than I was.
By three inches.
If I wanted to, I could knock the asshole out with one punch.
But I didn’t.
Because the rules were you got better treatment, more choices on work, and a cleaner slate for parole if you behaved.
Alf sneered, “Come on, pussy. Today’s the day.” He held his fists by his face, ready for a sparring match. “You’re never gonna get out anyway. Life, baby doll. Might as well have some recreational fun.”
I’d schooled my face to stay ragefully cold. He wouldn’t know what the words ‘life in prison’ did to my insides. He didn’t need to know how bloody twisted I was. Part of me agreed that I’d got a fair punishment.
I’d killed a man. I deserved to never be free again.
But the other part of me hated that my victim had killed so many others and he’d never been caught. He’d had the devil on his side.
Until me, of course.
.............................
“ESTELLE, YOU NEED to sit the hell down.” I pointed at her large belly. “If you don’t do as I say, I’m going to handcuff you to the bed.”
Estelle whirled on me, dropping the two water bottles she’d been carrying to give to Conner and Pippa playing in the shallows. The bottles weren’t heavy, but she’d been bloody waddling all over the camp since dawn. “With what exactly? We don’t have a bedhead and we don’t have cuffs.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t know what you mean. How about you leave me alone?”
Whoa, what?
My heart shed its calm beat for a frenzied flurry. My voice was deceptively low. “I suggest you reassess what you just said to me.”
Damn woman didn’t know how to stop fussing. Her constant fretting made her tired. She shouldn’t be tired. She had to be healthy and strong for the birth.
The birth.
I swallowed hard.
Every time I thought about wh
at Estelle would face in a few short months, my temper exploded out of control. There was nothing I could do. I couldn’t take her pain. I couldn’t save her from agony. And I couldn’t do a fucking thing if complications arose and she died.
I hated everything about this pregnancy, including the fact that Estelle seemed adamant at cutting me out of her life. “I don’t appreciate being told to leave you alone when all I’m trying to do is—”
“All right, that’s it! I’ve had enough.” Her eyes narrowed, hands flew to her hips, and her face darkened beneath her honey tan. “That’s all you do these days, Galloway. You follow me around muttering that I shouldn’t do that and I shouldn’t do this. You’re constantly under my feet. At night, you want to hear insistently that I forgive you for knocking me up and that I still love you. What the hell has gotten into you? I’m not dying, for God’s sake. I’m not an invalid.” She poked her stomach. “You’re so needy it’s as if you’ve turned into the baby and I don’t need this one.”
I froze.
The axe in my hands, from chopping firewood, dropped into the sand.
I should leave.
I should turn around and get some air before I said something I regretted.
But the air swirled with a fight.
I didn’t want to fight.
But this had been brewing for weeks.
We’d been off-kilter ever since the raft incident (which I still couldn’t think about without cursing the wasted time) and unable to find our way back to each other.
As the pregnancy progressed, Estelle shut me out. I didn’t think she did it consciously, but she’d done it nevertheless. She didn’t lean on me. She didn’t ask for my opinion. She shouldered more and more responsibility as if she didn’t trust me to do it right.
And it made me feel like an asshole.
Because the more she didn’t need me, the more and more desperate I became.
I needed her.
Not just sexually. But emotionally, physically, spiritually—every damn way. And it wasn’t enough that she cuddled into me at night and let me do the chores she normally would.
The chasm between us confused the hell out of me.
I felt...I feel second best.
Somehow, the baby that I’d shackled her with (the same spawn she’d been terrified of having) had stolen the heart of my woman before it’d even been born.