Naturally, I feel violated knowing somebody was going through my things, and though I’d never voice it aloud to Claire, I feel uncomfortable being her. Without Matthew, I feel exposed and vulnerable, which I’m sure is typical after a break-in, but even with police presence and at least one member of Matt’s security team that’s been following us around since Ty and I got here, I feel unsafe. Almost on reflex, I feel myself leaving the bedroom and heading down the hall to where Tyler is sharing a bedroom with the twins. All three boys are sleeping peacefully, thankfully undisturbed and unaware of the evening’s events.
For several minutes, I watch my son sleeping and think about several alternative scenarios of hour our lives could have turned out. We could have stayed with Matthew to begin with. Perhaps he would have followed through on his thought to leave behind the danger of his current job for one in which I wouldn’t have to worry about whether he’d even come home at night. I don’t think I could ever force him into a normal job. He’d be miserable and end up resenting me for it down the line. He could have stuck with his job and for all I know, we could have remained incredibly happy until now. Of course I could have stayed with Tom, gotten remarried, and we could have several children together, and we could also be incredibly happy. Again, though, there would be resentment. It would be utterly unfair, but I have no doubt that I would have started resenting Tom because he wasn’t Matthew. I realize there is a common theme when it comes to my probability of happiness and I also realize that common theme hasn’t even made contact with us since the break-in.
The Matthew Young I know would have rushed through Claire’s front door and pulled me into his arms and held me so tightly it would hurt, but I wouldn’t have complained, especially when he was murmuring comforting words into my hair. So where is he? Have recent events been enough for him to wipe his hands clean of me altogether? The very thought forces me to stifle a sob and I hate myself and the situation, and have to wonder what else has happened over the years that he has changed so drastically.
Resolving to call him whether he wants to hear from me or not, I force myself to leave Tyler’s side and return to my bed. Despite having no delusions of actually getting a full night’s sleep, I fall into bed and do my best to get comfortable, and to my surprise, I actually manage to fall asleep within the hour.
-------------o-------------
When I wake, I have no idea what the time is or what woke me other than the feeling of being watched. I don’t even open my eyes, knowing it’s only my residual paranoia from what happened tonight. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t get comfortable and the feeling only gets stronger. There’s a slight shifting beside my bed and I freeze, my eyes flying wide open and my heart racing. I’m not alone. I want to call out for help, but no matter who I call for, help won’t arrive before it’s too late.
Terrified, I slowly roll onto my back and make out a shadowed figure sitting at my bedside in a desk chair. The figure is hunched, elbows resting on knees, hands clasped, fingers interlocked, but I can feel the gaze locked on me. It only takes an instant before my terror turns to relief.
“Matt?” I whisper into the dark.
“Hey, Sammy,” he whispers back. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
I roll my eyes, knowing he can’t see me. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have been sitting here staring at me. How long have you been here?”
I can vaguely see him shrug. “An hour or so. And I like staring at you. I’m pretty sure we’ve had this discussion several times over the years.”
He’s trying to break the tension with humor. And I hate that it’s working. “Doesn’t make it any less creepy,” I reply grumpily. “What are you doing here?”
Sitting straight up, I can feel rather than see Matthew getting annoyed. “Why do you think I’m here?” he says with strained patience. “I needed to see you. Make sure you’re all right. Make sure Tyler’s all right...” He sighs. “Are you all right?”
“Never better,” I mutter sarcastically. “Claire’s pissed at you.”
“Yeah, I know,” he says, wincing. “She met me in the driveway and gave me the what-for. I’m surprised it didn’t wake you up. Then again, it might have only sounded like shouting to me. I’d ask where she learned such foul language, but I suspect it was from me.” I crack a smile. “You don’t see pleased to see me.”
“Should I be?” I retort, feeling a sense of déjà vu from the afternoon he showed up on my doorstep in Omaha. He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m pleased to see you, Matt. I really am, I just thought...”
“What?” he says, his voice barely above a breath. “What did you think, Sam?”
Annoyingly, I feel my eyes tearing up again and let out a sniffle. Before I can even blink, I feel the mattress shifting as Matthew sits down beside me. “I thought you’d be here hours ago,” I say, surprised that my own voice is so even. Not to mention the annoyance of his sudden appearance after days of having not heard a word from him. “Claire tried to call you. I was going to call you in the morning. You can’t tell me you didn’t know what happened.”
“I actually didn’t know what happened until a few hours ago,” he says quietly, his hand hesitantly resting his hand on my knee. Even through the thick blanket, I can feel the warmth. “My phone’s been turned off for the last couple days and I haven’t really bothered checking my messages. Leo got the call and pulled me away from my packing to tell me what happened. We left straight away.”
My brow furrows at his words. I can’t remember the last time he turned his phone off for anything—on our honeymoon, I practically begged him to shut it off so we could have a peaceful dinner together and it took an argument for him to finally agree. Even when Tyler was first born, he refused to do anything more than set it to vibrate. The number of times I’ve wanted to take his phone and run it over with a car tire... But something else catches my attention. “Packing?” I repeat. “Packing for what?”
He shifts so that one leg is on the bed, the foot tucked under the leg on the floor. “I’m heading to Italy in the morning,” he states quietly. “I’ve got a business meeting.”
Dread settles in my stomach. “What sort of business meeting?” I ask hesitantly.
He looks away briefly at the window and though I still can’t quite see him, I know his brow is furrowed and he’s frowning. He’s debating with himself on whether to tell me. “I’ve decided to sell the chip,” he says carefully. “This has gone too far and it’s not worth the hassle anymore. It’s bad enough I’ve dragged you and Tyler into this, effectively ruining your relationship with Tom, which truly wasn’t my intention, and now it’s at my sister’s doorstep. I can’t put any of you through this for much longer.”
“Who are you selling to?” I demand. He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to; I know exactly what he has planned. “Matt, you can’t do that. You can’t really be considering selling to these people.”
“It’s not really your choice,” he says coolly. “I’m not selling to the people threatening us; I’m selling to a respectable Italian company that, unlike these people, is completely legit. As proud as I am of this little chip and as much as I wanted to see it do great things, I can’t risk my family’s safety anymore. Once it’s out of my hands, we can all move on.”
I swallow hard, wanting to ask what he means, but not really wanting the answer. Especially if “we can all move on” involves us once again parting ways. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” I notice aloud. He’s not looking anywhere near me and I know him well enough to know the signs that he’s worried.
Standing suddenly, his hands fist in his hair and he starts pacing. I sit up slowly in bed, crossing my legs to watch him make several passes across the room. "There's been a leak. Someone in my organization has been speaking with our foreign friends, passing along necessary information. For example, only a handful of people knew that you and Tyler would be coming here when you did. Claire didn't even know until half an hour before your arriv
al." I look at him in surprise; there had been no indication on Claire's part that she hadn't had advanced knowledge of our impending arrival, and she never let on otherwise. "I asked her to act as though this had been the plan all along, nothing out of the ordinary. At the time, I had a suspicion that these people were somehow gaining inside knowledge, but I had no idea it went this deep."
Without a doubt, I know he's referring to Tom, having believed that once Tom was back in Omaha, the "leak" would be stopped. Clearly that isn't the case at this point, even though I did tell Tom where we are staying... My eyes widen, and to my surprise, Matt shakes his head before I can even vocalize my thought.
"Tom isn't even on our radar right now," he says shortly. "This is very internal. These people know things nobody should even be aware of." He sounds exhausted and pissed off, and I suddenly wonder how long it's been since he had a decent night's sleep. I'm guessing a week at least, probably longer, and I want nothing more than to make him better. What I don’t know is whether it would even be welcome at this point, even if I could succeed. “I don’t know what to do anymore, Samantha. About anything. This fucking chip, this entire situation.” He stops at the end of the bed and looks at me. “You. All I want—all I ever wanted—was for you and Tyler to be happy. I wish there was a way to make this easier for you and for me. I haven’t slept since you left and I’ve been fighting with myself since I decided to make this trip to Italy on whether or not to come see you before I left. We’re not really all that great when it comes to goodbyes and I didn’t want to have to face it again. At the same time, I needed the chance to explain why I did what I did and to ask you why you did what you did. Again, didn’t want to face it.”
He walks past me and I capture his hand, pulling him to a stop. Warm, long fingers close around mine and I look up to find him staring at our hands in surprise and slight confusion. Gently, I tug on his fingers until he sits beside me on the bed again. “Matt, I understand why you wanted us to leave. I’ve unintentionally hurt you over and over, and it didn’t help that I was practically flaunting my relationship with Tom in your face. If the tables had been turned and it had been you with another woman, I’d be pissed off too.” I briefly think about my conversation with Claire about Natalie and have to swallow hard to even go on. “You’ve been incredible throughout this entire ordeal and I will never be able to thank you enough for protecting us. But you’re right: we can’t keep on playing mind games with one another and the only way we’ll be able to be around one another is to not be around one another. I want you in Tyler’s life, Matt. I want him to know without a doubt who is father is—he already suspects. If we can work something out, then it would mean the world to me. If not...” I shrug lamely, uncertain what else there is to say.
Staring at me as though I’ve slapped him—again—I can’t imagine how he might reply. “The night I kissed you,” he says suddenly, “the same night you were with Tom... I knew what you did and why you did it—you wanted to hurt me for hurting you, and you used Tom to do it. And I’m sorry for saying it like that, but we both know it’s the truth. I asked you the next day whether Tom knew you faked it. I heard you two and I know what you sound like when you climax.” A grin grows on his face that almost immediately turns sad. “I don’t mean to be crass about it, but you didn’t sound like he was pleasing you. When I saw you the next morning, I knew everything I needed to know about your relationship with Tom. You might have loved him, but you weren’t in love with him, not the way you were with me. I know what I’ve said about the two of us together and how it won’t work, but the more I consider life without you, the more miserable I am. I can’t lose you and my son again, Samantha. I don’t care about anything else.”
I’m staring at him in absolute shock, not breathing, not moving. God, I hope I’m hearing him right.
“You’re tired right now,” he says gently, reaching up to run the fingers of his free hand down my cheek. I suck in a sharp breath at the touch. “I don’t want to talk about this until I get back from Italy. Until then, I need you to do something for me.”
Nodding quickly, I agree. “Anything.” At this point, I think I’d walk right off a bridge if he asked me.
“Trust me.” His face is right against mine, our noses practically touching. “Whatever happens, Sam, I need you to know I’m doing this for you and for Tyler because I love you both more than anything. I need you to trust that I know what I’m doing. Can you do that?”
I try to decipher his exact meaning, wondering what it is he has planned, but the look in his eyes is begging me to answer his question, not ask him more. “Yes,” I whisper. “I trust you, Matt. Of course I do.”
He sighs in relief and smiles a little. “Thank you,” he breathes, pressing a kiss to my temple.
At some point we move to lie down, my head resting on his chest, his arms wrapped around me. This is where I belong after a horrible night like the one I’ve just experienced, and I know he feels the same. “Will you be here when I wake up?” I ask as I’m falling asleep.
I feel him smile against my forehead as he responds, “Yes.”
9
Something isn’t right. After a rather pleasing dream in which Matthew had been in my room and we’d talked more candidly than we have in years, I fell asleep in his arms with his promise that he’d be there when I woke. The dream then evolved into something much less innocent than a conversation that has me squirming in my half-awake state. It’s then that I realize at least part of my dream wasn’t actually a dream. I’m sleeping practically on top of something that instinct tells me is none other than Matthew Young himself. My eyes snap open and I crane my head just enough to confirm it’s him and that he’s asleep. I bite my lip against anything more than a smile and take in our situation.
Both of his arms are wrapped protectively and possessively around my middle, his head resting against the pillow in a way I know will give him a neck crick for a few days at least. Asleep, his face is completely relaxed, which isn’t something most people get the pleasure of seeing. Most of the time, even when he’s in his playful moods, there’s still a fair bit of stress and strain evident in his features. His lips and nose are buried in my hair, and I wonder, not for the first time, whether he’s able to breathe like that. I then think about how incredible it is waking up in someone’s arms. True, I woke up several times in Tom’s arms, but it wasn’t ever like this. I was always a little uncomfortable, like we didn’t fit together the way we should. Our arms didn’t have a niche on each other’s bodies. Hugging or resting my head on his shoulder didn’t feel natural, and even the simple action of holding hands never worked—his hands fingers were so much larger than mine that they tended to squeeze mine almost to the point of pain. I never had that sort of trouble with Matthew. He and I always fit together perfectly in every way possible, and only now am I realizing just how much I lost when I left him.
I jump a little when the arm around my waist tightens briefly and see the beginning of a grin on his face at my reaction. “Well, hello,” he says huskily, pulling me closer. “Fancy meeting you here...”
Resting my chin on his chest, I meet his grin. “A shock, indeed,” I whisper. “Considering this is the room where I’ve been sleeping for nearly a week...”
“Hmm,” he murmurs. I watch as his grin turns wistful. “I’ve missed waking up with you in my arms.” And there it is, my old friend Guilt. Matthew must see my expression change, because a moment later, he’s flipped me onto my back and is propped up over me on an elbow. “I know I said I didn’t want to discuss it until I’m back from Italy, but I need to apologize for my behavior lately. I have treated you horribly, blaming you for things that we’re both at fault for, and shutting you out when I should have been telling you everything.”
“Matt...” I start.
He places a finger against my lips to stop me speaking. “I’m sorry, Samantha. Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it and I want you to know that before I leave in the morning. You were my ent
ire life and losing you nearly killed me. And I don’t need you to say anything right now, just please know that I love you, I have always loved you, and I will always love you. It doesn’t matter to me who comes into our lives; you will always be the one I need the most. That will never change.”
I’m speechless. And I’m pretty sure I’m crying, but I’m too busy trying to register his words to pay any attention to anything else. There is only one thing I can do at this point and I don’t hesitate to reach out a shaky hand to the back of his head and pull him down until our lips connect. I feel his mouth open in surprise, but I don’t stop and a second later, he shakes off his surprise, responding to my kiss with such intensity that he takes away my breath. My hands are fisted in his hair, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his own hands moving wherever he can reach.
He leaves my lips, trailing kisses down my jawline to my ear and I turn my head slightly to give him better access to my neck. Pressing his body into mine, he leaves me in very little doubt of where he wants this to lead and I have no intention of stopping him. He pulls aside the collar of my t-shirt, his tongue leaving a trail of fire wherever it goes. A hand tentatively finds the hem of my shirt and slides up my body. My back arches when his fingers brush against my breast and I feel him smiling against my throat at the reaction; his palm presses and kneads and I’m completely lost to his touch. But I need more. I need to feel his bare skin against mine, if for no other reason than to confirm this isn’t a dream. He moans against me when I tug his shirt up, splaying my hands on his back.
A moment later, I’m panicking. He pushes himself up onto his knees and looks at me with such contradicting emotion that I feel my heart fracturing even further. Desire. Reluctance. Fear. Lust. Love. He’s fighting with himself and I know better than to try pushing him in either direction. I wait incredibly impatiently while his eyes dart wildly around the room, his fingers running through his hair with such force that I wonder how he hasn’t ripped it right out of his head. Finally, his gaze returns to me and I know he’s come to a decision, even though I have no idea what that decision might be.
Young Lies (Young Series) Page 15