Page 36 of Restoration

One day he’s going to have to accept that it may not ever happen.

Trying to shift to a more practical topic, I say, “We should think about some way to catch the fish that are out there. We could really use more protein, and we’re not having much luck with crabs or shellfish.”

“Yeah. I know. We can brainstorm on that.”

He sounds slightly distracted, and when I glance over to check his face, I swear I catch him leering at my body. It’s clearly visible since the minimal amount of fabric covering me is completely soaked.

I experience a little jolt of excitement, but Edmund looks away quickly, back toward the horizon. He certainly doesn’t appear to be a man overcome with lust.

“I’m gonna take a swim,” he mumbles.

“Okay. I’ll work on the coconuts for today.”

I watch him as he splashes out far enough to start swimming. He’s an even better swimmer than me. His arms slice through the water with each stroke, and his feet kick powerfully, surging his body forward.

I’ve always found Edmund attractive—far too attractive for my comfort. And I’ve always felt close to him and wanted to be closer.

But I’ve never really thought about his body as powerful before. Strong and capable and masculine andpowerful.

I sigh and turn away. Those kinds of thoughts are going to do me no good at all.

There have been several moments over the past days where it felt like a thrilling heat was shuddering in the air between us, but each time, Edmund has turned away from it. Broken it. If he wanted me in any real way, nothing would come between us as we’re isolated here on this island. Nothing that could keep us apart in the real world—his lifestyle, his wealth, my position as his assistant, our vastly different personalities and priorities in life—would matter.

He’s a virile man who’s had a lot of sex in his life, so his body is likely primed for it, but it’s notmehe wants.

And it doesn’t matter that part of me has always wanted him.

Blowing out all these thoughts with my breath, I return to the hut and dry off enough to pull on my shorts. I don’t lather up with sunscreen because I’ve almost used up the first bottle already. I have five more bottles from the tub, but applying it two or three times a day will burn through them too quickly.

I don’t know how long we’ll be on this island, so yesterday I decided to only start using it around noon since the morning sun isn’t as strong and I can usually manage to stay in the shade.

I do put on my other top since the thin fabric covers my chest and shoulders and most of my arms. After sliding on my shoes, I head into the forest to collect enough coconuts for the day. When I bring them back to the shelter, Edmund is still swimming, so I head farther in to where the best fruit trees are growing to collect some bananas and that green fruit we’ve been eating.

I return with my arms loaded up with fruit. Edmund is back, drying off with his towel, but he drops it and comes to help me with my haul.

We break open a coconut and split it with a couple of bananas for breakfast.

“So what should we do today?” I ask him when we’re finished eating.

“I’m going to finish that third SOS. What about you?”

“I might make another pair of those sandals.”

For the past couple of days, Edmund has been forming two new SOSs on the beach on different sides of the island in the hopes of increasing the chance that someone will see them. I’ve been making a kind of patio in front of our shelter with all the flat rocks I can find so we have a better surface to work and sit on. Ever since the incident with that spider, sitting directly on the sand has freaked me out.

Then yesterday I had a flash of brilliance and started weaving some of the long grasses into a mat. The mat is much stronger and more flexible than the big leaves, and it allowed me to secure vines to it in a way that’s more permanent so Edmund can tie them on as sandals.

They worked amazingly well. So well that I figure I might make some for myself so I don’t have to wear my boat shoes everywhere.

“Okay. That sounds good. I’ll be a few hours over on the other side of the island. You’ll be all right here?”

“Yeah.” I smile at him. “I’m going to stay here where I know there’s good shade, but I’ll be fine.”

He looks at me for a little too long, and I have no idea what he’s thinking. Then he ties on his sandals and pulls on his T-shirt from where it’s hanging on a long vine we’ve strung from a tree to the shelter so we can dry out our towels and clothes.

Then he starts striding down the beach.

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