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He was sobreathtaking.
Sobeautiful.
My heart might have beat erratically, but my soul.. it had held its breath. I was mesmerised. I was caught in his… hiseverything.
He was mine. Heismine.
Malakai can deny the connection between us all he likes. He can hide behind a threat that has never materialised, but I know the truth. We belong together. My skin prickles, just like I knew it would. A warning flashes across every inch. A warning that I once again choose to ignore. He’s back. Inside, my relief finally makes way to anger. It surprises me with its force, almost taking my breath away.
I’m suddenly seething. Shaking. Mad as hell.
For the first time in over a year, my anger makes itself known. He left without a word. He read every damn message I sent but never responded. Lola mourned himagain. I mourned what could’ve been, and even though I texted him regularly, I never once asked him to return. I never once got angry.
Now I’mfurious. Now I’mlivid.
On the outside, however, I’m as calm as the ocean before me as I school my emotions. I might have dreamed of this day for the past year, but if Malakai thinks he can just walk back into my life and pick up where he left off, as though the past year hadn’t happened, he’s got another thing coming.
He better be ready to grovel. He better be ready to get down on his knees and beg my forgiveness because I’m not the same lovesick girl he left behind a year ago. I might’ve longed for him. I might still ache for him, but I will not let him walk over me again. I won’t.
Gritting my jaw, I force myself to remain seated. I don’t get up and rush to the harbour to search for Malakai like he’s demanded, even though every single part of me wants to. Instead, I wait for Peter to arrive.
Ten minutes later he steps onto the beach wearing cut off denim shorts and a blue Hawaiian shirt that’s he’s left hanging open to show off his tan skin and solid six pack. He’s tattoo-free and when I asked him a few days ago why he never chose to adorn his body with a tattoo, he’d simply replied;‘my body is a temple’. Admittedly, his response had made me laugh for the first time in months, but despite that brief happiness I couldn’t help but think of Malakai and the tattoos that covers all those scars he was determined to keep hidden.
“G’day, Connie. Why so sad?” Peter asks, as he plonks himself down beside me on the rock and slides his bare feet into the rock pool next to mine. His golden tan, light blonde hair and fit body is attractive, but I just don’t feel that connection to him.
“Not sad, just thoughtful,” I shrug.
“Want to share?”
I shake my head. “I’d rather swim.”
“Then let’s swim,” he says, standing.
When he holds his hand out to me, I take it, ignoring the fact that Malakai is right here on the island. Ignoring the fact that my heart is pounding at the thought of him so close by. Ignoring the building anger and the utter relief.
Malakai Azaiah Dunbar has keptmewaiting for over a year.
Now he can wait forme.
