Page 13 of Return to the Island

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“You’re my business. Tell me.” He pressed at my hands for emphasis, lowering the weight of his body to rest on mine. I bucked up, searching for friction. My legs desperately wanted to wrap around him and draw him to me. I wanted to prove I had power over him.

“None,” I hissed. “There’s been no one but you.” My hips thrust forward, but he stilled. He might have even held his breath. The moment gave me a thought.

“What about Miller?” he harshly whispered before I could speak.

“He’s my best friend,” I replied, almost disgusted at the thought. “How many have you been with?” I demanded, my tone softening with fear. I’d seen the blonde. I recognized her from the articles about him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, allowing his lower body to relax over mine. One hand released mine and cupped my jaw. He’d kiss me next. This was his move.

“It matters to me,” I said, struggling under his fingers.

“A few. No one important. No one like—“

“Get off me,” I hissed. My head struggled to roll away from his grasp. He tightened his hold, nearly pinching me. “Get the fuck off of me.” I could have screamed, but I didn’t want to wake Miller in the next room.

“Mouse?” His hand released my face and flattened on the bed next to my head. “Where are you?” he whispered, his tone softening to one I recognized. He stared at me, as if he didn’t see me before him.

I’m still me, I wanted to yell.

Where are you? I wanted to reply, but it was evident, he’d forgotten. He’d forgotten everything.

+ +

“Wakey, wakey, cuppie cakey.” Miller’s voice startled me, and I rolled to my back, my head rotating to face the opposite pillow. Tack was gone.

Last night, he had rolled off of me and laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling. I twisted to my side, facing away from him. I thought he’d leave when I presented my back to him. We weren’t the same two people we’d been on the island. He even looked different. His hair was styled. His face shaven. I found no trace of the man I knew. But at some point, he turned into me, his chest pressed against my back. His arm looped over my waist.

“Let me back in,” he whispered to the nape of my neck. Hesitantly, I reached for him, stroking from his elbow to his wrist to raise his arm against my chest. His fingers fisted with mine until I placed our joined hands over my heart. For the first time in a long time, the pieces came back together, and I realized even more how much I missed him.

And just like when we were on the island, his disappearance made me question if he had been there at all.

“Looks like we had a visitor? Did someone get lucky last night?”

My head spun to Miller. His brows wiggled as his eyes suggestively shifted to the dip in the pillow next to mine.

“No one got lucky last night,” I snorted, combing through my long hair.

“Well, you didn’t, at least.” He winked.

“Who?” I giggled.

“My secret,” he said. “Now get out of that bed.”

“You give new meaning to the term manwhore,” I said, falling back against the pillows with a false laugh. “I can’t do it. I can’t face him today.”

The mattress dipped as Miller sat next to me.

“Etty, you can’t keep hiding from him. You said you loved him once. Based on the way he looked at you last night, I’d say he still feels the same way about you now.”

I stared at Miller. Look who was imagining things now, I thought.

“Just say I have a headache. I promise this morning will be the only time. I’ll participate fully in every other activity.” I could not face Tack yet, my emotions in too much turmoil.

“Just this one time.” Miller scowled but the look didn’t work for him. He couldn’t pull off tough. He leaned forward and kissed my forehead.

Each organization was scheduled to pitch to Tack and his team with excursions to the local market later in the day. I decided to see the market while the pitches were happening. I was familiar enough with island markets as Miller and I visited some when we started our organization. We saw what sold. We saw what didn’t, and we decided what products to make from there. Our most popular item was still the leaf-material bracelet. Tack had some variation of that bracelet on his wrist, but it wasn’t mine—the original one he promised to never take off. I couldn’t imagine it lasted. Two years was a long time, and as he’d told me, there had been others.