Chapter 9 - Crossmoor Reborn
Two months later.
Crossmoor House no longer smelled of rain and quiet destruction.
On a bright Saturday afternoon, the sprawling front lawn was filled with the sound of children laughing, running through sprinklers, and chasing a golden retriever puppy that Damon had finally agreed to adopt.
Julian, Leo, Toby, and Micah were building an enormous wooden fort under the shade of the grand oak trees, supervised not by a terrified rotating cast of temporary nannies, but by Ruth, who was sitting in a wicker rocking chair with a glass of iced tea, smiling from ear to ear.
Inside the kitchen, the counters were clean, shining, and free of orange juice waterfalls.
Mara stood by the stove, humming softly as she stirred a pot of homemade tomato soup, while a small seven-year-old girl with bright, curious eyes sat at the island drawing pictures in a brand-new sketchbook.
“Mom,” Lily asked, looking up from her drawing. “Is Mr. Cross going to live with us forever?”
Mara paused, a warm flush rising to her cheeks as heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Damon walked into the kitchen, his dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up, looking less like the terrifying King of the Gulf and more like a man who had finally found his way home.
He stopped behind Mara, resting his hands gently on her waist, and looked down at Lily’s drawing.
“That’s a very good question, Lily,” Damon said, a soft, genuine smile touching his lips as he looked from the little girl to Mara. “What do you think, Mara? Does the King of the Gulf have a permanent contract here?”
Mara turned in his arms, wrapping her hands around his neck, her eyes shining with happiness.
“Only if you promise to do the dishes on weekends,” Mara smiled.
May you like
Damon leaned down and kissed her softly, right in the middle of the kitchen where it all began.
“Deal,” Damon whispered.
