While waiting, she took in the views of her surroundings. Still quite chuffed with the idea of actually being there, Gwen whispered a silent thanks to fate for bringing Crispin into her life. Watching him now, returning with his coffee and her tea, she was reminded of that day back in the café in Kingston. The same wave of chills racked through her at the very sight of him.
“Keep staring at me like that…”
“And what?”
He flashed her a crooked grin, winked and sat beside her. Dragging her chair closer to him, he then proceeded to eat his lunch in silence. For a guy who didn’t like being touched, he certainly enjoyed sharing close proximity. After a few contemplative bites of her sandwich and a couple of sips of tea, Gwen placed a tentative hand on his thigh and waited to see what he might do. Right away, he tensed but didn’t react otherwise. She then took another chance and kissed him on the cheek. He was sitting so close, it didn’t take much of an effort, yet mentally, it was proving quite taxing. Every move she made felt risky. But she had promised herself she would get to the bottom of his issues. This was, to her, the best way to broach the subject. Yet with every carefully executed caress on her part, she likened to petting a caged lion who at any second, might turn and bite.
As it was, he had stopped chewing, swallowed his last mouthful, and took a purposeful drag of his coffee. The whole while, he avoided eye-contact with her. She then gave him another kiss, closer to his ear, her fingers tightening their grip on his thigh.
Sure enough, she had gone too far, pushed her luck and his steely grip came down hard on her hand and gave her fingers and near painful squeeze.
“Watch yourself, young miss,” he growled, his jaw clenched, brow furrowed, eyes shut tight against her sweet assault on his person. “Don’t ruin this.”
“Ruin?” She actually choked back an unexpected sob at his choice of words. “How exactly…” It hurt, it did, his reaction to her touch and the woman inside of her demanded to know why. “… am I ruining anything?”
“Just don’t.” With one last punishing squeeze of his hand, he removed hers from his thigh, got up, grabbed his satchel and walked off.
Abandoning the last of her lunch, she followed in concerned silence. With one last look over her shoulder, she said a wistful goodbye to St. James’s Park, her eyes lingering the bench by the pond. The recent memory of Crispin with the duckling made her smile despite the sour turn in his mood. Turning her attention to him again, she took purposeful steps to keep up.
She didn’t even care where he was headed, she followed him, this mysterious travel companion in head-to-toe black. The thing with Crispin was, he always seemed to know where he was headed. Ever since the nightmare on the tube, he’d taken the lead and that was quite fine with Gwen, because, in the end, he always led her where she wanted to go. Like she could simply envision the destination and without asking for direction, he’d take her there. Like right now for example, sure enough, after a brisk walk, they reached Wellington Arch, which, of course, was quite breathtaking in itself.
Another thing with Crispin was, he never stayed angry, if angry is what you could call it, for long. In anticipation of her reaction to the majestic structure, he slowed his steps and allowed her to close the distance between them. When he looked over his shoulder, sure enough, her smile brought forth one of his own and he held his hand out for her. Just like that, all was forgiven.
“Wow, Crispin!”
“Quite impressive, isn’t it?”
“I can’t get over all this architecture. It’s so different to what we have back home.”
Right across from Wellington Arch, they came across Hyde Park. In a much better mood, and feeling a tad guilty for running out on her at lunch, Crispin made up for it with a couple of decadent ice cream bars, double chocolate for him, cookies and cream for her.
“Hyde Park,” Gwen declared, taking loving bites of her treat. “This is perfect. Right around here is Kensington Palace. But don’t worry, we won’t go in. We’ll just spend the afternoon outside.”
“Is that so?” Crispin teased, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her in for a sloppy ice cream kiss. “Worried about me, are you?”
His kiss came out of nowhere and his unexpected embrace nearly caused her drop what was left of her treat to the ground in favour of more of him.
“Cute, you are.” He kissed her again before resuming walking as if nothing happened.
After strolling through the extensive greenery, they found a sunny patch of grass by The Serpentine, a snake-like body of water, and sat down.
“I’m actually tired,” said Gwen, resting back on the grass.
“We’ve walked quite a bit today. Go ahead and take a nap.”
“I don’t need to sleep.” She giggled when he took his notebook from inside the satchel, then tucked the leather bag under her head.
“Do as I say.” He leaned in real close and nipped at her earlobe.
“Yes, Master.” She giggled again.
“Much better.” He rewarded her with a kiss before sitting up beside her.
Surprisingly, she did sleep. Actually, it more like dozing in and out of consciousness. Each time she stirred, she opened one eye, and sure enough, found Crispin at her side, scribbling into his notebook. “What are you writing?” she murmured at one point.
“None of your concern,” he whispered as he continued, surprising himself with how easily the lyrics flowed. He hadn’t been this inspired in months and he didn’t want to risk losing the inspiration with idle chit chat.
“Crispin? Can I ask you something?”
“Shush…”
“Have you ever…”
“Give me a second.” There, the last lyric was written, the song complete. The third so far this trip and they had only just started. At this pace, the Kingston Quartet would have a brand new album for the summer tour. He had no idea where all this inspiration was coming from but he would embrace it for all its worth. When he finally closed his notebook, he turned to Gwen and that’s when his heart all but stopped. “Hey… what are you doing?”
When she didn’t answer but kept running her hand over the grass as if in a trance, Crispin suddenly found himself transported to another place, another time, a time he had long forgotten until that very second.
“What are you doing, Gwen?”
“Looking for a four-leafed clover.”
“I can’t believe you still think those exist.”
“I do because they do exist. I know, because I found one... once.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“When was that?”
“I was seven. I remember it clearly.”
“Where did this happen?” he asked skeptically.
“Outside my house one summer when we lived in Toronto. I was sitting on the grass, searching as I often did. My mother said if I ever found one, I’d be the luckiest girl in the world. So I made it my mission. I was quite determined at seven-years-old. Mom probably just said it to keep me busy throughout the summer. I don’t think she actually believed I’d find one... but I did.”
“You found one?” Placing his hands on her shoulders, he studied her closely as of searching for something. “What did she say?”
After a prolonged pause and sharing the same profound questioning stare, she continued, “I never got to show her.”
And that’s when it hit him like a freight train. Those eyes, that face, how could he have not recognized her? “My God…” He stroked a thumb over her cheek. “Gwen, I’m sorry. I got there as fast as I could.”
“What?” For a second, she couldn’t even breathe. “Wait… Was that you?” When he smiled and nodded, she nearly cried. “No way! You were the boy who saved me?”
“Is that how you saw it?”
“Is there any other way to see it?”
He shook his head and chuckled. “Incredible...” Crispin said in disbelief. “After all these years… how is it even possible?”
“I ha
ve no idea. But it makes perfect sense, this attraction to you, why I feel so safe with you.”
“I remember, I was about eight-years-old,” Crispin continued. “I was sitting on the front porch of the latest of many foster homes, watching you play in the grass in front of the house next door.”
“Foster home? You?”
“One of many,” he said with a melancholy smile. “I’d been living there a week when I first saw you. So very small and distracted you were, picking clovers. I often watched you, but being so enthralled, you never noticed me.”
“I was determined to find a four-leafed clover that day.” Gwen recalled the event clearly.
“What happened next?” Crispin quirked an eyebrow. “Do you remember?”
Gwen nodded sadly. “I found one. I actually found one! I was about to run inside to show my mother...”
“When those little bastards surrounded you and knocked it out of your hand,” Crispin spoke through clenched teeth as if seeing it all over again. “I was overcome with murderous visions eight-year-olds should never have. But those bullies had it coming. I only tolerated them because it was me they picked on. But you, you didn’t deserve that. You were just a little girl minding her own business.”
“I was devastated and scared all at once. I never saw them coming... or you. When you showed up out of nowhere and stood in front of me, I ran for it and didn’t look back. I’ve often wondered... What happened next, Crispin?”
“I had the shit kicked out of me, that’s what.”
“Oh... I’m sorry.” She blinked back a tear. “By the time I called my mother, all of you had gone. She told me not to worry about it. Some silly brush-off about boys being boys.” As she spoke, Gwen was overcome with emotion and overwhelmed with questions. “Crispin?” Unable to resist, she took his hand and held it to her chest. She didn’t even worry that he would pull away. And he didn’t. Not this time.
“She was right,” Crispin said, resting his forehead against hers. “Boys can be cruel. Too bad about your four-leafed clover. Did you ever find it again?”
A smile took over her face. “I did. He walked into the shop where I work the other day. Only my lucky clover wasn’t the green leafy type at all. He was dressed in black.”
Chapter 25
Have you ever gotten caught between clarity and confusion? Stuck somewhere between elation and a fear so great, you couldn’t see straight? Well, that’s where Crispin’s state of mind was as he weaved his way along the busy London sidewalk with Gwen’s hand in his. Ever since discovering they shared a common past, he didn’t know what to think. It was such an impossibility, yet here they were, so many years later, reunited. He didn’t know if he wanted to run away from this reality or towards it. And what of their current relationship? Did this change things, alter the course? Of course, it did. For better or worse, he couldn’t say.
Gwen did her best to keep pace with Crispin’s relentless stride. Despite his tight grip on her hand, she couldn’t help but wonder if he would rather be alone. It was a lot to digest, this information. While she was positively delighted to be re-united with that eight-year-old boy who so gallantly intervened on her behalf, all those years ago, she could sense Crispin’s inner turmoil over their shared past. Then, of course, she couldn’t help but want to ask him so many questions. Then there was the knowledge of him growing up in foster homes. The idea saddened her deeply. She wanted to know more but feared upsetting him further. Obviously, it was a sore spot and it still affected him. How could it not? She had seen it in his eyes, recognized it in his voice, the hurt.
“Crispin, slow down, please.” He hesitated for all of a second, but kept walking, heading somewhere only he knew. “Hey, what’s the hurry? My feet are kinda killing me.” Again, he ignored her. They continued walking a distance in silence. Somehow they reached the River Thames and facing forward, Crispin crossed the street. Only when she stumbled onto the curb and nearly fell, did he stop.
“Oh, hey… sorry.” He caught her quick and tugged her into his arms, ignoring the stares of those who passed. “You okay? Did you hurt yourself?”
Gwen might have answered if he hadn’t made it impossible by smothering her face into his chest. She might have even cried if her heart weren’t so filled with love for this complicated man holding her so tenaciously. Yes, love, and she couldn’t deny it any longer even if she couldn’t verbalize it at the time. It kind of just hit her. It was in the way he held her, his scent all around her, her face pressed against his chest, her nose in his dark wavy hair. If it weren’t for his steely grip on her, she would have thrown her arms around him whether he wanted it or not.
“Gwen?”
“Oh, Crispin, I’m fine,” she said when he crouched down and inspected her ankle. “It’s you, I’m worried about.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. A second later, he stood up, shook his head and walked away from her. He didn’t go far, only a few feet to stand by the river, but it was far enough for her. Leaning against the concrete barrier, he stared aimlessly over its edge.
When she caught up to him, he refused to look at her, preferring to gaze at the passing riverboats. Standing beside him, shivering in the ebbing daylight, she missed his arms around her but thought better of imposing herself on him at this time.
She couldn’t help but wonder what he thought about. The realization that she had indeed fallen in love with him, left her feeling completely vulnerable and scared in the worst way. She feared he was preparing to call and end to their budding relationship. Perhaps he was trying to find a way to tell her without hurting her feelings.
“Gwen, sweetheart,” Crispin spoke, peeking over at her. “Stop thinking so hard.” The girl was an open book and a mystery all at once. Poor thing, none of this was her fault, yet he could tell she was blaming herself for all that was wrong in the world.
“Where were you going in such a hurry?” she asked.
“Away from you,” he said. “Towards you. Away from myself. I have no idea.”
“I don’t understand.” She shivered again, this time he couldn’t have missed it.
“Come here, you.” Tugging her into his embrace so she stood in front of him facing the river, he once again wrapped his arms around her. Hugging her tight, he nuzzled his nose into her ear, breathed her in and whispered, “You’re going to rip my heart out in the end.”
What? Had she heard him right? “No, I won’t. I would never…”
“Yes, you will.” Torn between talking and kissing her, he chose the latter and covered her neck and shoulders with kisses before continuing. “But that’s not your fault. None of it is.”
How typical of Crispin to cause her to press her knees together with want, and have her anticipating the worst at the same time. The man was a walking orgasm wrapped in heartache, a bittersweet killer combination. “I don’t understand.” Gwen braced herself for whatever he might say. She thought she would have to pry the information out of him but she sensed he was about to tell her everything she wanted to know, the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Resting his chin on her shoulder, he spoke. “Do you believe in soulmates?”
Well, that caught her off guard. Of all the things for him to say, that’s the last thing she expected to hear. “I hadn’t given it much thought, really, until recently.”
“Me neither until it happened to a close friend of mine.”
Swallowing the blow of disappointment, she slowly nodded. It took a few calming breaths to get over the idea he hadn’t meant him and her. She would have to get a hold of her emotions in order to deal with whatever he told her. But it was harder to do, after so recently coming to the realization that she was, in fact, in love with him.
“Who?” she eventually asked.
“Kell.”
“With Becky, you mean?”
“Yeah, you see, like me in a lot of ways, Kell is the most cynical bastard I have ever met. I think that’s why we get along so well. But then Becky came along and just like that, I watched the
whole thing unfold like a miracle in front of my eyes. I was lucky enough to be a small part of it but that only made me realize how much I wanted the same for myself.”
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” It was all she could do to focus on the passing riverboats, to keep from falling apart right then and there.
“No, I already told you that,” he whispered, placing a small kiss on her cheek. “I am in love with what they have together and it kills me not to have that kind of love. To never have it. To know it exists for others yet not for me.”
“Crispin…”
“No, listen, while I have the balls to say out loud what I’ve held in so long. Don’t ask me why I’m telling you this. I think it’s only because I feel like I might lose my mind if I don’t get it out. And oddly enough, much like you feel safe with me, I feel safe with you.”
“Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” she asked.
“I want to say yes, but…” he hesitated.
“But what?”
“Well, for one thing, I don’t think I could survive it,” he said.
“Survive what, though?” she asked.
“You said I should try some psychology on myself and you made a good point,” he explained. “You have your anxiety issues. Me? Well… I haven’t the slightest clue what to call what I have going on. Wait, that’s not right. I know exactly how to describe me.”
“I’d describe you as magical, but that’s only because, as you pointed out, I’m enamoured with your persona,” she said with a giggle, hoping to lighten the mood for them both.
“Don’t laugh,” he said with a melancholy smile. “We’re having a moment here.”
“I’m sorry, go on, Crispin. How would you describe yourself?”
Seconds passed before he responded. He wasn’t sure he could. But after a deep breath, he finally did while hiding his face in the comforting warm spot by her ear.
“Unlovable.”
“What? Did you say…” Unable to resist, she turned in his arms to face him. Surprisingly enough, he allowed it and held her gaze.
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