“I know.”
She steps back, and I walk in, the door closing behind me. I sit on the edge of the bed, and she joins me.
We don’t talk at first. I take her hand, and she lets me. After a moment, she leans into me, resting her head against my shoulder while we sit together in silence, letting the reality of it slowly catch up to us.
“What do we do?”
I take my time before answering.
“We sleep tonight… in a real bed. Tomorrow we see Grandad. Then we go home to Brisbane.”
Home.
Something in me pushes back against the word before I can stop it.
Brisbane is where I was born. It’s where I’m supposed to belong. Where people would say my life is. But when I reach for it, there’s nothing there I can hold onto. Not the way I can with the island.
Home is the sound of the ocean at night. The shelter we built, piece by piece, until it could hold against anything. The fireat dusk. Days shaped by light instead of time. Knowing where Charlotte is without looking, and her knowing the same about me.
It’s the graves under the trees.
It’s where our son is.
That’s where everything that matters to us still remains.
Brisbane is a place I remember.
The island is where I lived.
Charlotte presses a soft kiss against my shoulder. “People are going to have opinions about us. Strong ones.”
“They will.” I look at her. “Let them.”
“You make it sound simple.”
My fingers brush over the wedding ring on her finger. “We know what we are, Charlotte. That doesn’t change just because we’re back.”
She lifts her eyes to mine. “People won’t understand.”
“I don’t care, babe.”
She runs her thumb slowly over the braided band on my finger. “I think we should keep our relationship to ourselves for now,” she says. “At least until we can gauge what’s happening.”
I study her face for a second and catch the uncertainty she’s trying not to show. Then I nod once. “Okay. Whatever you want.”
We sit there for another moment, the quiet settling comfortably around us.
“I’d like a shower,” she says eventually. “What do you say?”
I glance toward the bathroom, then back at her. “I think that sounds like a really good idea.”
We move at the same time, like we always do—standing, crossing the room together.
I turn on the shower, letting the water heat up while we undress.
There’s a mirror above the vanity, and Charlotte catches sight of herself in it as we step into the bathroom.
She pulls her shirt over her head, and our eyes meet in the mirror.
