CHAPTER 29—MADDIE
***
Ed: this was an amazing event. Amazing. Great job!
THE WALK BACK TO DAMIAN'S apartment feels different tonight. The streets of Swans Cove are quiet, a light dusting of snow softening the world around us. Maybe it's the lingering high from the Christmas-Adopt-thon's success, or maybe it's just the way Damian's hand fits perfectly in mine. Whatever it is, I can't shake the feeling that something's shifted.
As we climb the stairs to his floor, my heart races, and not just from the exertion. I'm hyper-aware of every point of contact between us - his shoulder brushing mine, the warmth of his breath on my neck as he leans in close.
"You okay, Princess?" Damian asks, his voice low and concerned. "You seem... jittery."
I nod, offering him a small smile. "Just... excited, I guess. And maybe a little nervous."
His brow furrows slightly, but he doesn't push. Instead, he squeezes my hand gently, a silent reassurance that makes my heart swell.
When we reach his door, I take a deep breath. "I have a surprise for you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Damian raises an eyebrow, that half-smirk I've come to adore playing on his lips. "Oh? Do tell, Princess."
"Close your eyes," I instruct, fumbling with the keys. He complies, a look of amused curiosity on his face.
I push open the door, guiding him inside. The apartment is just as we left it - minimalist and undecorated, a stark contrast to my Christmas-explosion of a place upstairs. But there's something different, something that wasn't there before. "Okay," I breathe, positioning him just so. "Open them."
Damian's eyes flutter open, immediately landing on the piano. It sits in its usual spot, but it's different now. Polished, gleaming in the soft light. And there, stuck to the music stand, is a bright yellow Post-it note.
I hold my breath as Damian approaches the piano slowly, almost reverently. He reaches out, fingers ghosting over the keys before plucking the Post-it note from its perch.
"You fixed it," he breathes, his eyes wide as they scan the three words I'd scrawled earlier: 'I love you.'
I nod, suddenly nervous. "Alessandro helped. He let the repair guys in. I hope that's okay. I wanted it to be perfect for you."
Damian's silent for a long moment, just staring at the Post-it in his hand. Then, without a word, he sits down and lifts the cover. His fingers hover over the keys, hesitant.
"Play for me?" I ask softly, moving to stand beside him.
He takes a deep breath and begins to play. The melody is haunting, beautiful in its melancholy. It fills the room, wrapping around us like a warm blanket. I feel tears prick at my eyes, overwhelmed by the emotion in every note.
As the last chord fades away, I know. With a certainty that should terrify me but doesn't, I know.
"I love you," I whisper, echoing the words on the Post-it note.
What follows is a symphony of a different kind. Damian's hands grip my hips, spinning me to face the piano. His body cages me in, hard and unyielding against my back.
"Hands on the keys," he growls, his voice low and commanding. "Don't move them unless I say so. Understand?"
A shiver runs down my spine. "Yes," I breathe, placing my palms on the cool ivory.
"Yes, what?" His teeth graze my earlobe.
"Yes, sir," I gasp, heat flooding my core.
"Good girl," he purrs, the praise sending a jolt through me.
Damian's hands roam my body with possessive intent, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He hikes up my dress, bunching it around my waist.
"You're mine, Maddie," he says, his voice rough with desire. "Say it."
"I'm yours," I moan as his fingers find where I need him most. "All yours, Damian."
He works me slowly, building the tension until I'm trembling against him. Just when I think I can't take anymore, he stops.
"Please," I whimper, pressing back against him.
"Please what, Princess?" I can hear the smirk in his voice.
"Please... I need you inside me," I manage, my fingers itching to move from the keys.
"As you wish," he murmurs, finally, finally pushing into me.
We both groan at the sensation. Damian sets a punishing pace, each thrust driving me closer to the edge. The piano creaks beneath us, keys jangling discordantly as my hands press down involuntarily.
"That's it, baby," Damian encourages, his grip on my hips tightening. "Let me hear you. Let the whole town hear who you belong to."
His words push me closer to the precipice. "Damian, I'm close," I pant.
He reaches around, his fingers finding my most sensitive spot. "Come for me, Maddie," he commands. "Now."
I shatter, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash over me. Damian follows soon after, burying himself deep with a guttural groan.
As we come down from our high, Damian's touch turns gentle. He peppers soft kisses along my shoulder, murmuring words of love and praise.
"I love you," he says, turning me to face him. His eyes, usually so guarded, are open and vulnerable.
"I love you too," I whisper back, overwhelmed by the emotion I see there.
As we hold each other, I feel a familiar itch in my fingers. Words are bubbling up inside me, demanding to be let out. It's a feeling I haven't had in months, and its sudden return is both exhilarating and terrifying.
"I need to write," I say, surprised.
Damian chuckles, his chest rumbling beneath my cheek. "What, did my magical orgasm unlock your writer's block?"
I swat at him playfully, but then pause. "Okay because the other ones weren't magical? You've given a few yesterday."
"True. I am that magical." He smiles at me that grin I love.
"I think... I think I finally know what I want to say."
He kisses the top of my head, then gently nudges me up. "Then go write, Princess. It makes you happy. And seeing you happy? That's all I want."
As I scramble for my laptop, feeling more inspired than I have in months, I can't help but marvel at how far we've come. From adversaries to lovers, from lost to found.
And as my fingers fly across the keyboard, Damian's presence a comforting warmth beside me, I realize that this - right here, right now - is my happy ending. And it's only the beginning.
THE NEXT MORNING, WE'RE strolling toward Aisling and Alessandro's house for Christmas lunch. Lady Grey will be there too, and I'm looking forward to seeing her. After everything that happened with Damian's birth parents at the Christmas-Adopt-thon, I'm glad he'll have his real mom there today.
"I still can't believe my parents are now fostering three dogs. It's wild!" I tell Damian, watching my breath form little clouds in the crisp air. My parents, Rose, and I had a video chat over breakfast—opening presents but mainly chatting. It was... nice. Really nice, actually. They've always loved us, but now they're working on showing it better, realizing some of the pressure they put on us came from their own insecurities. It's like watching our family dynamic evolve in real-time, complete with awkward pauses and genuine breakthroughs.
I sent my column about the shelter to Ed last night—not expecting an answer, but he read it before his kids got up and he loves it.
As we step into Aisling and Alessandro's home, we're greeted by a cacophony of sounds. Ava is sitting cross-legged on the floor, Barkey at her side, as she earnestly tries to teach him "Jingle Bells."
"Come on, Barkey! Like this: Jingle bells, jingle bells..." Ava sings enthusiastically.
Barkey tilts his head, then lets out a long, warbling howl that, surprisingly, follows the melody of the carol. Damian and I exchange amused glances as Ava claps her hands in delight.
"He's got some pipes on him," Damian chuckles.
As we make our way further into the house, I spot Liam and Sophie in a quiet corner. They think they're being discreet, but I catch them stealing a quick kiss under the mistletoe. Sorcha notices too, and I overhear her teasing Sophie.
"Well, well," Sorcha says with a grin. "Looks like someone got their Christmas miracle after all."
Sophie blushes but doesn't deny it, her hand finding Liam's under the table.
Lady Grey approaches us, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh, Maddie, dear," she says, linking her arm through mine. "Have I ever told you about Damian The Magician?
Damian groans. "Mom, please..."
"Oh, I definitely need to hear this," I say, grinning at Damian's obvious discomfort.
As Lady Grey finishes her story about young Damian's brief but passionate obsession with magic tricks, I'm struggling to contain my laughter. Apparently, he spent an entire summer trying to master the art of illusion, determined to become the next David Copperfield.
"Oh, you should have seen him," Lady Grey chuckles, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "He'd practice for hours, trying to make things disappear. Usually, it was just his allowance that vanished into thin air buying new props."
I glance at Damian, expecting to see him cringing, but instead, there's a wry smile playing on his lips. "Hey, I'll have you know I can still do a mean card trick."
"Oh really?" I tease, raising an eyebrow. "And here I thought your magical days were behind you."
Damian leans in close, his voice dropping to a whisper only I can hear. "Oh, I think you know I'm still pretty magical, Princess. Or have you already forgotten last night?"
I feel heat rush to my cheeks as memories of our passionate encounter flood my mind. Clearing my throat, I manage to say, "Right, um, your magic skills are... definitely not in question."
Lady Grey looks between us curiously, but thankfully doesn't ask for clarification. Instead, she continues, "He even put on a show for the neighborhood. It was... something."
"Something disastrous, you mean," Damian chuckles, his hand finding mine under the table. "Didn't the rabbit escape mid-act?"
"And hop straight into Mrs. Johnson's prized petunias," Lady Grey confirms with a laugh.
I squeeze Damian's hand, imagining a young, determined version of him, all serious concentration as he waves a wand. "Well, I for one would love to see some of these legendary tricks sometime."
His eyes soften as he looks at me, a mischievous glint appearing. "For you? I might just have to dust off the old top hat. Show you some real magic."
The double meaning in his words sends a shiver down my spine, and I have to bite my lip to keep from grinning like an idiot. "Looking forward to it," I manage to say, my voice only slightly breathless.
Lady Grey glances between us, a knowing smile on her face. "Well, I'm sure whatever tricks Damian has up his sleeve now are far more impressive than his childhood attempts."
If only she knew just how impressive, I think to myself, fighting back another blush.
Our moment is interrupted by Aunt Locelli, who bursts into the room waving an envelope like it's the golden ticket to Willy Wonka's chocolate factory.
"Well, well, well," she announces, her voice carrying over the Christmas music. "Looks like our resident vampire and his Princess Peach have made me filthy rich!"
I feel my cheeks burn hotter than Rudolph's nose. "Wait, what?"
Damian's arm tightens around my waist. "You didn't actually bet on us, did you?" he asks, his voice a mix of amusement and exasperation.
"Honey," Aunt Locelli says with a wink that could put Santa's twinkle to shame, "the whole town's been playing Christmas Cupid. And let me tell you, the pot is bigger than Aisling's Christmas turkey."
I bury my face in Damian's chest, torn between mortification and laughter. "Oh my God," I mumble into his ugly Christmas sweater. "I can't believe this."
"Believe it, Princess," Damian murmurs. "Looks like we're the town's favorite soap opera."
But then Aunt Locelli's face softens, and she does something that makes my heart swell three sizes (eat your heart out, Grinch).
"Now, now," she says, her voice gentler. "As much fun as it's been playing matchmaker, this money isn't for me. I'm donating the whole kit and caboodle to the shelter."
I lift my head from Damian's chest, shocked. "Aunt Locelli, that's... that's incredible."
Damian's quiet for a moment, then says gruffly, "Thank you. Those animals... they deserve it."
Aunt Locelli beams at us. "Well, consider it my Christmas gift to you two lovebirds. Now, who wants to hear about the time I caught Damian singing 'All I Want for Christmas Is You' in the shower?"
"Wait, what?"
"Oh it was at the gym—I assumed he was in the shower..."
Before I can process this, Damian calls for everyone's attention. "I just got a text. We've got some great news from the Christmas-Adopt-thon," he announces. "Over 50 animals found homes last night, and we've got foster applications coming in for another 30!"
The room erupts in cheers. Damian squeezes my hand, pride evident in his eyes.
"Oh, and Kellan called," Alessandro continues. "He's doing great in rehab and is looking into fostering a senior dog when he gets out."
Just then, Aisling's tablet chimes with an incoming video call. It's Grant, beaming from ear to ear.
"Hey, Swans Cove!" he says. "Just wanted to let you know, our collaboration was a huge success. We've had shelters from all over reaching out, wanting to know how they can implement similar programs. You guys started something big!"
As the celebrations continue, Damian pulls me aside. "I've got something for you," he says, handing me a carefully wrapped package.
I open it to find a rare first edition of my favorite true crime book. "Damian," I breathe. "This is incredible. Thank you!"
I hand him my gift - a vintage F1 poster signed by his favorite driver. His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning.
"This is amazing, Mads," he says, pulling me in for a kiss.
We're interrupted by Aisling, who's carrying two lumpy packages. "These are from the town," she says with a grin.
We unwrap them to find matching "His & Hers" ugly Christmas sweaters, complete with little vampire fangs stitched onto the collar.
As we laugh over the ridiculous sweaters, Damian leans in close. "I've got one more gift for you," he murmurs. "But that one's waiting in the laundry room."
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh really?"
He just smiles, but then, I add. "Me too."