Crescent Hill

by Jackie Wang

  I nodded. “Okay, don’t you dare laugh at me.” I stood up slowly and began jumping up and down on the bed. “I haven’t done this in ages. Not since I was a kid. I could never do this back home; it’d be too embarrassing so—”

  The springs creaked as Roman joined along. “You know what, I don’t think I’ve ever jumped on a bed before. Not for fun anyway.”

  And just like that, we jumped around for a few minutes, until I was laughing so hard my sides hurt. It should’ve been embarrassing, but it wasn’t.

  With Roman, everything felt right.

  Roman climbed down, topped up my glass and handed it back to me. “I think you need to quench your thirst with this.”

  I took a sip, then put down my glass again. Warmth coated the back of my throat and spread across my chest.

  This time, I didn’t play any more games. I lunged at him, twelve months’ worth of lust all built up to this very moment. “You stopped me last night,” I said. “Don’t stop me now.”

  “Wasn’t planning on it.” Roman grinned. He helped me out of my coat, and we dove under the covers, which were made of the silkiest fabric I’d ever felt. I tugged at his shirt, while he freed me from my sweater. Our pants and underwear followed, until we lay naked and panting.

  I raked my eyes across the hard lines of Roman’s body. “Have you been working out? When did you get these abs?”

  “Maybe. A little, yeah.” He looked smug. And damn sexy.

  “You look delicious.” The cool, crisp sheets sent a tingle up my spine. I climbed on top of Roman, fire dancing in my eyes. Without another word, my mouth crashed down to meet his, and he groaned. The sound vibrated through me, mingling with the heated drumming of my heart. We devoured each other, abandoning all reservations.

  No more second-guessing.

  No more hesitation.

  No more waiting.

  Roman’s hands found my breasts and cupped them. “I missed you,” he murmured.

  “I missed you too,” I said.

  “I was talking to your breasts,” Roman teased, bringing a pebbled nipple to his lips. He wrapped his mouth around it. Flicked it. Lapped it. Sucked it.

  “I missed the taste of your skin. The way your toes curl after you orgasm. The way your left cheek dimples when you smile. The way your knees lock when you’re anxious. The way your eyes cloud when you’re upset. I missed your musical laughter; your humming, your shouting, your gasping, your moaning, your writing, your pussy…”

  My legs clenched at his words, which coated me like hot honey. His words were my weakness, and they unraveled me.

  But I needed more than words. I needed him. Every inch of him, inside every inch of me.

  “I missed everything about you too,” I said. “I denied it, and denied it, but I won’t anymore. I love you, Roman. I. Love. You. You saved me. You gave me my life back, and so much more. I’ve been looking—needing—someone like you all my life. I just didn’t realize how much I needed it until I saw you again. You broke through all my walls, Roman, tore them down…and you’re the only one I want to share my everything with.”

  Roman took my lips and cupped my cheeks, his nose brushing against mine. God, he smelled amazing. Like fresh laundry and endless possibilities.

  “Welcome home, Maggie.” He brought my hand up to his chest. His heart was beating insanely fast. “This is where you belong, for now, and always.”

  I nodded. “Mmhm.”

  I let my hand trail down until it met with his heated length. Slowly, I tugged at his growing erection, feeling it swell in my hand. I brought his tip to my entrance and murmured, “And this, is where he belongs. Inside me. For now, and always.” With that, I pushed him through my heated slit, letting my warmth envelop him.

  Roman lifted his hips, driving deeper inside me, so deep that I gasped and arched my back. I didn’t know he could go so deep. I didn’t know anyone could go so deep. When he bottomed out, he stayed there, not moving. “Fuck, Maggie, we need to use a condom—”

  “Are you clean?” I gasped. “I am. And I’m on birth control.”

  Roman nodded. “Are you sure—”

  I rocked against him in reply. Feeling his cock bare inside me drove me wild with desire. We were connected in the most intimate way, and I relished every second of it.

  I hadn’t done this in a while, and I could hardly stop the orgasm that was already thundering through me.

  Passion and lust had me seeing fucking stars. My head spun, and I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m…close,” I said. “I ha—”

  I didn’t have time to finish my sentence before Roman gave me three hard thrusts that sent me over the edge. “Fuck!” I cried as an orgasm ricocheted through my belly. “Oh my fucking—”

  I didn’t even have time to ride it out because Roman flipped me around and kept going.

  He didn’t stop.

  I didn’t want him to stop.

  He relentlessly took me from behind, a man possessed. As if we were the last two people on Earth, and this was the last time humanity would ever have sex.

  He was rough, impatient, wild.

  Before long, I was coming again, even harder and louder than the last time.

  I wanted to stay in this crazy hot, over-the-top fantasy forever.

  Forget about the real world.

  Forget about the past, and the future.

  I wanted to live in the moment, with him, breathe with him, move with him, feel my body sing with him.

  I was selfish, I knew that. I was demanding, I also knew that.

  But he didn’t care. I didn’t care.

  We didn’t care.

  Roman indulged my every whim. Rewarded every one of my kisses and strokes with ten of his. And I lost myself with him. In him. In the best way imaginable. I lost myself to find myself, and realized that I loved the person I was when I was with him.

  He made me whole; he made me feel loved, cherished, precious, irreplaceable, in a way that no one made me feel before.

  He patched me and healed my scars, cut himself in the process, but never blamed me for his wounds.

  He could’ve abandoned me. Could’ve chosen to forget I ever existed. Instead, he came running back into my life, more determined than ever to love little broken me. For who I was, as I was, and nobody else.

  I wanted to spend the rest of my life thanking him for being my hero. For having the courage to play with a fire starter, knowing that he’d get burnt. But did I have the courage to love him back, the way he deserved? Did I have the courage to stay? To live out this happily ever after? Claim my very own fairy tale?

  We stopped a couple hours later for a late afternoon snack, then went for one more round before I had to pick up my sons from camp. As we got dressed, I said, “I may need crutches to walk tomorrow.”

  Roman smirked. “Then I’ve done my job, and done it well.”

  “Roman, I meant what I said earlier. I really do love you. You—”

  “Shh, Maggie. I know. I know, love. I’ve known all along.”

  Chapter 42

  Twelve Days Left

  “Everything in there was made after 1660, in the Jewel House. The crowns, sceptres and orbs prior to that had been destroyed after the monarchy ended in 1649…”

  “I told you having a local guide makes everything better, Mom,” Greg said triumphantly.

  “I never had anything against a local guide,” I said, nodding to the wizened old man who was giving us a tour of the Crown Jewels in the Tower of London. “I just think I could’ve done an equally satisfactory job.”

  “I can’t believe we’re finally here,” Jason said. “It only took a year to convince you to come, Mom.”

  “To London, or the Tower?”

  “Both.”

  “Boys?”

  My sons arched their brows. “Yeah?”

  “How do you feel about London?”

  “It’s great! There are so many things to see and do here. So much better than Penderton, where nothing ever happ
ens,” Greg said.

  “Great enough to stay?” I asked slowly.

  “What do you mean, Mom?” Jason asked.

  “Do you like London enough to stay here? Live here?”

  Jason gasped. “Are you suggesting—”

  Before I could say more, Roman popped around the corner, holding an armful of snacks and a few brochures.

  “Who wants to see some torture weapons?” Roman asked, rubbing his hands together.

  “We do!” the boys chimed in.

  I watched as Roman took the boys to an exhibition at the bottom of Wakefield Tower. Greg and Jason worshiped Roman. Clung on to every word he said. Even before they met, the boys saw him as an idol, a celebrity. Now that Roman was in our lives, I wasn’t sure they’d want to let him go. I wasn’t sure I wanted to let him go either. I couldn’t let him go. The idea was unthinkable.

  But the fact remained, I had my whole life waiting for me back in the States. Granted, it wasn’t much, but it was home.

  Home was safe. Familiar. Routine.

  I was so homesick. I missed my parents, Grammy, even Jesse and Caitlyn. And all the Crescent Hill staff…Just the thought of Crescent Hill brought me close to tears.

  London was a risk. New. Foreign. Exciting, but also terrifying.

  And really, really risky.

  It was also loud, chaotic, and intimidating.

  If things didn’t work out…

  Roman promised me the moon and stars. He said he loved me. I told him I loved him too. But how could he love someone so jaded and broken, with such a horrific past? The same old self-doubting questions cycled in my mind like clothes at a laundromat, until I was sick with myself. I didn’t want to think anymore. Doubt anymore. I just wanted to live. To see how things played out for the four of us. Was that such a bad thing?

  That night, after another ridiculously expensive meal at Roman’s other hotel, the Champs-Laurier, he asked me again, “I’m going to see my mum on Christmas Day. I’d be honored if you and the boys could come along. She’d love them.”

  And this time, though my brain screamed no, my head nodded yes. “I’d love to meet the amazing woman who singlehandedly raised you and your sister.”

  “I think you two would get along well,” Roman agreed. “I’m so glad we’re doing this. Thank you, Maggie.”

  “I’m glad too. Nervous, but glad.”

  Two days later, Roman came to pick us up at 11a.m. sharp. We’d be staying in Chelmer Village overnight, so the boys and I packed a change of clothes. Driving to Essex took approximately an hour. The road trip was filled with raucous laughter, stupid knock-knock jokes, and overplayed Christmas carols.

  Christmas morning was bright and sunny, and the weather forecast said it would remain this way for the rest of the weekend. But no amount of sunshine would quell the nervousness I felt in my chest. Anxiety squeezed my heart, like a firm hand toying with warm wax. I rolled down the window a bit and sucked in some fresh air.

  Amelia and Isabella, her daughter, had driven up the night before. The thought of them waiting for us upon arrival made me nauseous. Amelia’s threat replayed over and over in my head. I’d never forget her words. The way she looked down on me; made me feel inferior, undesirable, unloved.

  “What’s wrong? You seem tense,” Roman said, placing his hands over mine. “Your hands are stone cold. Should I turn up the heat?”

  I bit my lip and shook my head. “It’s nothing. I’m just nervous, that’s all. I’ve never met any of my ex-boyfriends’ families before. I mean, what do I do? Are there rules and stuff, for something like this?”

  “Just be yourself,” Roman said. “I wouldn’t want you to pretend to be someone else.”

  “And you’ve got us,” Greg reminded me from the backseat. “We can entertain them. Be distractions.” He hooked his fingers into the corners of his mouth and pulled them wide, letting his tongue loll. “Cheer up, Mom.”

  I pursed my lips. “Is Alice very conservative? How will she feel about you bringing home a never married woman with two sons? What if—”

  “She’s very open-minded. Great sense of humor too. You’ve nothing to worry about, honestly,” Roman reassured me.

  “Of course you’d say that–you’ve known her all your life. She might not be so nice toward a stranger.”

  “If you feel uncomfortable or unwelcome at any point, I’ll drive you straight home, how’s that?”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  Roman rested his hand on top of mine. “Mum will love you.”

  I had no idea what to expect when it came to Alice Finnegan’s home. When Roman pulled up to the curb, I took in the snow-covered landscape, the red brick house, and the cheerful Christmas decorations and nearly laughed. A ten-foot tall, inflatable Santa waved in the wind, accompanied by a pack of cartoonish reindeer. A small flower trellis was laced with twinkling lights, and I could see silhouettes flitting in and out of view through the main window.

  “How do I look?” I asked Roman, reapplying lipstick using the sun visor mirror.

  Roman kissed my forehead. “Like an angel. I mean it.”

  “Enough kissing already,” Jason said, making a face. “Let’s go.”

  We walked up the recently shoveled path, and Roman knocked on his mother’s door.

  “Coming!” someone cried from inside.

  Roman looked at me, and ran his thumb across my forehead. “Smile, Maggie. Your getting wrinkles.”

  I relaxed my forehead and smiled. “I…Yeah, you’re right.” I looked at my boys, whose noses were redder than Rudolph’s. They didn’t seem nervous at all.

  “Mom, it’s Christmas. Cheer up,” Jason said.

  I ruffled his hair. “You’re right, baby.”

  A hunched woman opened the door moments later, wearing a mauve angora sweater and a gray woolen skirt that reached her ankles. She wore a fuzzy knit hat, and her feet were hidden inside the fuzziest slippers I’d ever seen.

  “Good afternoon,” Alice said, grinning from ear to ear. “How do you do?” She reached over and shook my hand. I noticed her eyes were ice blue, like sapphires. She wore bright pink lipstick and sported drawn-in, pencil-thin eyebrows that wriggled expressively as she studied me.

  I smiled. Alice was smiling. That was a good sign. “Hi. It’s so nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Finnegan. Roman’s told me so much about you.”

  “He probably hasn’t told you the half of it,” Alice said, laughing. “Come in, come in. My son hasn’t brought a date for Christmas dinner in over four years. I’ve been dying to meet the woman who’s captured his heart.”

  I took off my shoes, and Roman did as well. When Jason and Greg trailed in after us, Alice let out a cry of delight. “Ooh! Who’s this?”

  “These are my sons,” I introduced. “This is Gregory. He’s twelve this year. And this is Jason. He just turned seven.”

  “Oh, Roman! Why didn’t you tell me you were bringing two boys along? I would’ve made more food.”

  “Mum, you always make enough to feed the whole village,” Roman reasoned. “Besides, I wanted to surprise you. I knew how much you’d like them. I know I do. They’re so smart, Mum.”

  “Oh, let me have a look,” Alice said, beckoning Greg and Jason to come closer.

  My sons looked at me hesitantly. I nodded, and they stepped forward.

  Alice squinted at Greg first, then Jason. “Oh, they are two very lovely lads. Handsome, respectful. How wonderful.”

  “They come from the U.S., Mum, from a little place called Penderton Island,” Roman said. “I met them last year when I went there for business.”

  “Oh, how nice,” Alice said. She looked around, popping her head into the kitchen. “Now I’ve got to go find your sister and Izzy. They were just here a minute ago. Where did they go…?”

  As we settled in by the fire, I shot Roman worried looks, hoping I could telepathically transmit how terrified I felt sitting in Alice’s living room, about to spend Christmas Day with his family.


  Roman took my hands. “You’re wrinkling up again.”

  I took in a deep breath, and forced my muscles to relax. I sat up. “Oh! I need to call my family. They’ll be waiting—”

  “Relax, Maggie. They’re not even awake yet. Time zone difference, remember?”

  I slunk back against the cushy armchair. “Oh. Right.”

  Amelia and her daughter came in through the back door moments later. When Isabella laid eyes on her uncle, she launched into his arms. “Uncle Roman! Oh! I missed you so much!”

  “I missed you too, Izzy.”

  Isabella was very tall for her age, almost as tall as me. She wore a white and green sweater with long stockings and an orange hat that covered her ears. Her mouse-like nose wiggled a bit, then she sneezed.

  Roman pulled the blond-haired girl into his arms and squeezed her tight. “How’s my favorite niece?”

  Isabella rolled her eyes. “I’m your only niece.”

  Roman laughed. “And your point is?”

  Isabella giggled. “Mum and I just spent the morning building snowmen in the backyard. Wanna see?”

  “Sure. In a sec. First, I’d like you to meet someone.” Roman looked at me. “This, is my new girlfriend, Maggie Summers. And these are her two sons, Greg and Jason. Greg is the same age as you, and Jason is seven.”

  Isabella took off her snow-dusted mittens. “How do you do?” She shook Greg, then Jason’s hand.

  My sons looked baffled, as if they’d never had such a pretty girl talk to them before. I nudged them a little.

  “Uh…hi,” Greg said, unable to meet Isabella’s eyes. “What’s up?”

  “I want to see your snowman,” Jason said, which instantly brought a smile to Isabella’s face. And just like that, the three children became fast friends. They ran outside, and I was left facing Amelia’s scrutiny.

  “Nice to see you again, Maggie,” Amelia said, pulling a mug from a cupboard. Her face was passive, almost uncaring. “I didn’t know you two had gotten so serious.” She turned to Roman. “Guess she’s staying in the UK, then.” Amelia took out a sachet and emptied its contents into her mug.