Page 111 of Obsession Under the Southern Stars

“That’s what I thought.” He laughs as I fling my arms around his neck. “The only issue is it’ll take you away from Rory,” he says softly as he gives me a squeeze. “But if he’s going to Darwin anyway, we can make sure we call in there and visit on our way back to New Zealand a couple of times a year.”

I nod, moving back, trying not to cry. “What do you think Fraser will say?”

“I’ll talk to him about it. I think he’ll be fine. He’ll be gutted to lose the two of you, obviously, but I’m sure he’d be thrilled if we said that while we’re away, we’ll promote the museum and hopefully encourage the exchange of exhibits. He’s always looking for interesting artifacts to display.”

I examine the necklace. I can’t believe Joel had this made for me. “Can I ask you something?”

He nods. “Of course.”

“I’d like to put this in the museum for Valentine’s Day week. I promised Fraser I’d find an item for his Love Under the Southern Stars exhibit, and I’d like to write a display explaining about the Relentless and Captain Mair and his wife, and it would be great to show people what the original might have looked like.”

“It’s yours,” he says. “You can do whatever you want with it. You can keep it in the museum, if you like.”

“No.” I touch it reverently. “I want to wear it. It’s incredibly beautiful, Joel. It must have cost you a fortune.”

“You’re worth every cent,” he says softly.

I swallow hard, turn to face him, and lift my arms around his neck again, and he holds me tightly. I’m still holding the necklace in my hand, and over his shoulder I watch the opal shining in the light. I think about what he said, that I’ve been yearning for something lost and unreachable. Sadness tightens my throat so much that I can’t breathe for a moment. Joel might be right, and I might be able to tell Rory I’m his mother when he turns eighteen, but it’s certainly not going to happen anytime soon, not unless I want to tear my family apart and destroy my own mum, and I don’t want that, not really. It’s time I stopped clutching onto the fantasy as if I’m clinging to a beautiful bird that’s straining to escape, and I let it fly free.

My throat relaxes, and I let out a long breath. I feel as if I’ve spent the last ten years barricaded in by a huge brick wall, and suddenly it’s all come tumbling down. Or, maybe more correctly, that Joel’s taken a sledgehammer to it and reduced it to dust.

I haven’t failed Rory. He’s a happy, healthy boy who loves me very much, and he’ll be fine in Darwin once he’s settled. Joel’s right—we can visit him a couple of times a year, andmaybe bring him back to New Zealand with us occasionally so he can see his father and older siblings.

It might not be quite what I’ve dreamed of all these years, but now it’s time to make new dreams with Joel. Traveling with him, working with him, and having a real relationship together—that’s the reality that awaits me. And maybe, just maybe, we might think about adopting our own child in the future. A baby of my own I can love.

I bury my face in his neck, inhaling his wonderful ocean scent. I love this man with all my heart. He’s waited for me, and he’s given me the chance to have a fresh start. How could I ask for more than that?

We sit there like that for a long time, while visitors come and go, murmuring quietly, and motes of dust dance like suspended dreams in the shafts of sunlight falling across the foyer.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Joel

When we finally decide we should move before someone slaps an exhibit sticker on us, Zoe returns to the conservation room to show Hallie the necklace. I spotted Fraser heading back to his office a few minutes ago, so I follow in his footsteps, crossing the foyer and jogging up the marble staircase, then turning left toward the offices.

His door bears a sign that says “Fraser Bell, Museum Director”. It’s the biggest office in the building, apart from the boardroom, and has a terrific view over the harbor. I knock on the door, even though it’s open, and he looks up from where he’s standing behind his desk, rifling through his papers.

“Got a sec?” I ask.

“Sure. Want a coffee?”

“Please.”

He presses a button on the intercom. “Can you make two coffees please, Louise?”

“Will do!” his assistant says brightly.

“Look at you,” I tease, “with an office and a secretary like a real businessman.”

“I even did up my own tie,” he jokes, flipping it. He gestures to the light-gray suite that sits to one side of the room, and we cross there and sit in the comfortable armchairs.

“You’ve done so well here,” I say. “I was thinking downstairs how you’ve completely turned the museum around.”

He looks amused. “Well, thanks.”

“I mean it, bro. You should be proud of yourself.”

He studies the coffee table in front of us for a moment. I can tell he feels awkward accepting the compliment. Dad really did a number on us both.

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