Young Revelations (Young Series)

by Kimble, W. R.

  I plaster a smile on my face and accept his kiss, then watch his retreating back and try not to let my good mood deflate. Despite everything Matthew has done since we started our vacation to keep my mind off our recent troubles, he’s gotten phone calls at least twice a day, usually from Leo or Marcus, that leave him frustrated and short-tempered for hours afterwards. I know this won’t be an exception and I’m debating on whether I should even waste my time getting us something to drink or just call a cab to take us back to the house, since the evening will undoubtedly be ruined when he returns. The worst part about is that he won’t even share what the phone conversations are about with me. I know his priority is to make me feel like nothing is wrong and to keep my stress levels down while I’m pregnant, but he doesn’t realize his behavior is more stressful than actually telling me what’s going on.

  Determined to make the most of this evening and to make him follow through on his promise of dancing, I head towards the bar ordering a beer for Matthew and a virgin strawberry daiquiri for myself. Even if I can’t drink, I can pretend and not feel out of place. While I’m waiting for our drinks, a man walks up and leans beside me at the bar. I dart my eyes towards him, briefly registering that he’s very handsome with his blond hair, blue eyes, dimples, and bright white smile that’s directed at me. With a friendly smile of my own, I turn back to watch the bartender’s progress, admiring how she moves around the bar and prepares drinks with an ease and comfort I could never manage without breaking several glasses and dumping half the alcohol onto the floor.

  “Having a good evening?” the blond man beside me asks smoothly.

  “Yes, thank you,” I tell him, inwardly rolling my eyes as he ignores my curtness and slides a little closer. I try to subtly move away from him.

  “A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t be out here all alone,” he says, reaching beside my hand for a bar napkin and allowing a finger to lightly trace the back of my hand before retracting his touch. “Anything could happen.”

  “I think I can handle myself,” I retort, trying to remain polite while letting him know his advances are unwanted. He doesn’t seem to be getting the hint, though.

  “Let me buy you a drink,” he insists, raising his hand to signal the bartender.

  I sigh. “Not necessary, but thank you.” I consider telling him I’m here with someone and that I’m pregnant, but I don’t really think it’s any of his business.

  His smile turns wider, more insistent. “Come on, sweetheart, we could have some fun.”

  “I’m pretty sure she’s not interested,” says a voice behind us.

  Shit. I glance over my shoulder to find Matthew standing there looking pissed.

  “Who the hell are you?” the blond man scoffs.

  “Her boyfriend,” Matthew says firmly, his hands clenching and unclenching at his side. “And the father of the child she’s carrying.”

  The stranger’s eyes widen, looking between us, smirking. “Boyfriend, huh?” he says. “What, she’s good enough to fuck but not to—”

  Before he can even finish his sentence, Matthew’s fist is in his face and he’s grunting in pain. I’m shouting at Matthew to stop while the other people at the bar scuttle away from the scene as Matthew’s foot connects with the man’s ribs. The stranger is screaming obscenities and I think Matthew has forgotten I’m here; apparently all his frustrations have come to a head and he’s taking it all out on the asshole cowering on the floor. After a few more kicks, a bulky bouncer intervenes, pulling Matthew away. I follow them in shock and quite a bit of anger. Understandably, Matthew is banned from the club. He replies with his own opinion of the place and stalks off down the sidewalk, leaving me behind.

  “What the fuck was that?” I yell at him once I catch up to him.

  “Did you not hear what he said?” Matthew asks, turning on his heel to face me. I instinctively take a few steps back when I see his normally loving, sweet eyes radiating nothing short of rage. “Do you really think I was going to let that bastard talk to you like that?”

  “So you’re just going to beat the shit out of him in a bar,” I shout back at him. “Matt, I was handling it just fine before you showed up. I didn’t need you going all caveman on him!”

  “Really?” he asks me harshly, crossing his arms and glaring at me. “So you’re just going to let some bastard hit on you in a bar while I’m in the same fucking room on a phone call? Is that what you want, Samantha? To be picked up and taken home and fucked by somebody else?”

  I stare in shock at his words, uncertain whether my dominant emotion is anger or hurt right now. Whichever it is, it leads to me slapping him hard in the face. “Fuck you,” I snarl at him. He stares at me expressionlessly, hardly flinching as my hand hit his cheek. Anything else I say right now will only make things worse, so I turn around and stomp back towards the club, hailing a taxi that’s passing by. It stops immediately, and I glance over my shoulder to find Matthew has joined me, but isn’t meeting my gaze. I think he’s expecting me to tell him to find his own ride back. Tempting, but I’m not in the mood to deal with the repercussions. I scoot over to the far end of the taxi, give the driver our address, and wait for Matthew to slide in and close the door.

  During the ride, we don’t speak, don’t look at one another, and the tension between us grows. I’ve always known Matthew has a jealous side, but I thought he was confident enough in me and our relationship to not act like a total jackass. The fact that he actually had the balls to ask me if I wanted to be with the man who hit on me in a bar sent me right over the edge. I’ve never given him reason to think so lowly of me. I can try and defend his actions by saying he’s stressed out and protective after everything that has happened, but I realize there is no defense for him. His actions say more about his lack of trust for me than they do anything else. Does he really think that after the last few months I’d just throw everything away?

  By the time we get back to the house, I’m fighting tears and I don’t even argue when Matthew stuffs a wad of bills in the driver’s hand as I rush to get away from him. I ignore his begging voice calling for me to wait, burst into the house, and barely blink to find Claire and Danny on the couch in what could only politely be called a compromising position. They stare at me with their jaws dropped, Danny’s hand under his wife’s shirt, as I pass them to get up the stairs and into the bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

  I wait for the telltale signs of Matthew following me, and then wait a little longer. I imagine Claire stalled him and demanded information, and I’m smirking at the thought that she’s probably giving him a dressing down for his outrageous behavior. After what feels like almost an hour, during which I begin to drift off, I hear the bedroom door open, a sigh, then the closing door before I feel the mattress dip as Matthew sits at the edge. He removes his watch and his wallet, then probably his socks and shoes before scooting onto the bed.

  Without even looking I know he’s got his back pressed against the headboard, watching me.

  “Samantha,” he says very softly, wisely not touching me.

  “I don’t want to hear it,” I mumble at him through my pillow, not caring if he hears me or not. “This was supposed to be a nice night out and you ruined it with a fight over nothing.”

  “Nothing?” he whispers incredulously. “Samantha, he was hitting on you, trying to buy you alcohol, ignoring your attempts to get him to leave you alone, then basically insinuated—”

  “I know what he insinuated, Matt,” I tell him sharply. “I don’t need you repeating it.” Especially when it’s all I’ve been thinking about since I heard it and I’ve started wondering myself. “I understand you’re under a lot of stress right now, but you need to trust me enough to know I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize a relationship that I’ve wanted back for five fucking years. I’m yours. Nobody else’s. Like you told him, I’m carrying your child.”

  I can almost see him rubbing his hands over his face. “I trust you,” he tells me softly, lea
ning as close to he as he dares before I tense. “I don’t trust other people. He could have been anybody.”

  “Don’t. Matt, I’m not in the mood to hear you telling me anybody who tries to hit on me might be doing it because he’s part of some grand scheme to destroy you,” I say, moving the pillow away from my face so he can clearly hear my words. “You were an asshole tonight and you know it. Just leave me alone.”

  He’s silent for several minutes as though he’s trying to figure out what to do next. I feel the mattress move, then his soft breath on my ear. “I’m sorry, Sam,” he breathes. “I love you.” He kisses my cheek once, then he’s gone and out the door.

  ––––-o––––-

  When I make my way downstairs for breakfast the next morning after a very sleepless night, I immediately note the bundle of blankets and pillows on the end of the couch, and wonder if Matthew slept there. In the kitchen, he’s leaning against the counter sipping morosely from a coffee cup, but straightens instantly when he sees me, eyeing me with such concern that my knees nearly buckle. I drag my eyes from him to find Claire and Danny sitting at the table, both of them looking at me with sympathetic smiles. My lips curve in a semblance of a smile, but I otherwise ignore all three of them as I take a seat next to my son eating breakfast.

  Breakfast is tense, especially with Tyler looking at me strangely as though he knows something’s wrong, but doesn’t know how to ask, while Claire jumps up to get me a plate. I manage to choke down a piece of toast, a couple slices of bacon, and half a glass of orange juice before the sight and smell of the scrambled eggs begins to turn my stomach. Rushing out of the room, I can faintly hear Matthew cursing and dropping his coffee cup on the counter to follow me, then Claire telling him to leave me be. As I empty what little food I managed to eat, I feel Claire’s hand gently rubbing my back and pulling my hair from my face.

  “All done?” she asks softly when I rest my cheek against the toilet seat.

  “God, I hope so,” I groan. “The morning sickness would kick in today…”

  She laughs a little and helps me up, then into the shower. Twenty minutes later, I’m feeling much better, get myself dressed in the clothes Claire brought in for me, and return downstairs to find the house mostly empty.

  “Where’s everyone?” I ask Claire when she hands me a bottle of water.

  “The boys took the kids to the beach,” she responds. “Matt put up a fight,” she smirks at her pun; I glare at her, “but then told me to take you out for the day. I thought we could hit a spa or something. You deserve some pampering after last night.”

  While a spa day isn’t normally my idea of fun, nor is it usually Claire’s, I agree immediately, thinking a massage might be just the thing to make me feel a little better. A car is out front waiting for us and we both roll our eyes, knowing Matthew has arranged for it. Inside is a selection of ridiculously expensive chocolates I craved when I was pregnant with Tyler and crackers, along with ginger ale for me, and champagne for Claire.

  “My brother does know how to grovel,” she says appreciatively as she pops a chocolate into her mouth.

  I roll my eyes, allowing myself a small smile. Chocolates don’t make up for last night, but they certainly don’t hurt anything. On our way to the day spa, Claire tells me that Matthew indeed slept on the couch last night, or at least he setup to sleep there; she’s not sure how much actual sleep got since when she came downstairs he was at the kitchen table with his laptop typing away. And of course she gave him a piece of her mind when she found out what happened last night, which she recalls for me.

  “I would have punched the guy too, though…” she admits wryly as I roll my eyes. “But at the same time, I know you can handle yourself and that you’d never go for something like that. Matt overreacted, but when it comes to you, he doesn’t know the meaning of reasonable.”

  “Still,” I say with a sigh.

  Dropping the subject of Matthew for the moment, we pull up in front of the spa and are immediately greeted by a team of women who lead us inside for a morning of massages, mud baths, primping, then lunch, followed by more primping. Claire then drags me off to a clothing boutique where we spend two hours modeling dresses for each other, something neither of us is completely comfortable with, which makes it that much more enjoyable. By the time we leave, I’ve forgotten why I was angry to begin with. We expect the car to take us back to the house, but it makes a detour, delivering us at another fancy restaurant. Now I understand all the primping and I’m rolling my eyes at Matthew again. I’m pretty sure we did this last night and it ended in disaster.

  Before I can protest, Claire is entwining our arms and leading me not into the restaurant, but around the side to the back. The deck is set out over the water and I find myself grudgingly smiling at the sight when Danny, the twins, Abby, and Tyler come into view. I would love to have been present to see Danny and Matthew getting the three little boys into those very cute suits, then Abby into the most adorable dress, all without any of them getting themselves dirty again. Danny and Matthew are both in suits as well; my heart skips a beat to find Matthew leaned against the deck railing in perfectly tailored clothes.

  Just like this morning in the kitchen, he straightens up when he sees me, his expression the very definition of the contrite male. I glance at Claire and realize immediately this entire day was planned. She grins and winks before going to greet her husband and children, leaving me alone for Matthew to approach me.

  “How was your day?” he asks, still keeping a safe distance from me.

  “It was fine,” I say shortly, not quite ready to forgive him even after what he arranged for us today. “Thank you.”

  He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair, and shoots a glance back at the table where no one is paying us any attention. “I’m sorry about last night, Samantha,” he tells me quietly, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. “I wanted us to have a nice night out together and I totally blew it. I do love you and I do trust you, and I know you could have easily put that asshole in his place if I would have just let you. Please let me make it up to you.”

  And now I’m realizing where Tyler inherited his puppy dog eyes look. I crack a smile at the thought, shuffling forward to close some of the distance between us. “Okay,” I say simply. “Give it your best shot.”

  He gives me a beaming smile and places his hands on either side of my face, then presses his lips against mine in a kiss I know he didn’t intend to be too involved, but quickly turns heated. At least until we hear four tiny disgusted, protesting voices from the table. Matthew pulls away from me, shooting a glare at the kids. “Shall we continue this later?” he asks softly.

  Attempting to hide my twitching lips, I nod and allow him to take my hand to lead me to the table where he pulls out a chair for me, then sits beside me. Just like last night, dinner is perfect. With my forgiving Matthew, my world is back on its axis and I can enjoy myself. During dessert, which seems to involve ridiculous amounts of ice cream for the kids and cake for the adults, I lean into the arm Matthew has extended on my chair behind me and he immediately pulls me closer until my head is resting on his shoulder. I could fall asleep like this…

  “Look at that!”

  Tyler’s excited voice brings me back to reality and I look out over the water to find several sailboats heading in our direction. “What are they doing?” I ask in wonder, watching them seemingly synchronize their movements until they’re in line.

  “I don’t know,” Matthew murmurs, tugging on my hand as he stands. We walk to the railing for a better look and I feel Matthew’s arms wrap around my waist and his chin resting on my shoulder. Something about the scenario seems familiar, but I shake it off to watch the sailboats switch positions a few times, all without running into one another. The kids are all crowded around the corner of the deck opposite Matthew and me, while Claire and Danny stand nearby to keep them from trying to get into the water. I start to turn around and ask Matthew if he thinks this is some show
the restaurant puts on as entertainment for the customers when the boat on the far left opens its sail.

  When it’s open fully, I gasp, seeing something clearly printed across the white fabric. “SAMANTHA” My heart stops beating when the next one opens with one word written across it. “WILL” The arms around my waist tighten very briefly before the next sail is released. “YOU” The arms disappear completely. “MARRY” And I feel the tears streaming down my face with the last one. “ME?” My eyes sweep across all five sails and before I can process their meaning, I turn around and look down to find Matthew kneeling on the deck, a large, proud smile on his face as he holds a ring up to me.

  “From the first second I laid eyes on you, I knew my life would never be the same and that I had to have you.” The tears come more quickly as I gasp, realizing he’s repeating the words he used the first time he proposed to me. “There truly are no words to describe what you mean to me. You made me what I am today, Samantha, and I have no idea how to thank you for that. I took you, our love, and our marriage for granted, and like the idiot I am, I made the biggest mistake of my life by letting you walk away from me. I learned from that mistake and it is not one I will ever make again. Having you back in my life has shown me just how much I need you and more than anything, I want us to grow old together watching our children. So this is the last time I will ever ask you this question: Samantha, will you be my wife?” His lips twitch up slightly and he rolls his eyes quickly. “Again.”

  Gasping a laugh through my tears, I nod. “Yes,” I manage to answer, watching him side the ring onto my finger, then pushing to his feet as he pulls me against him in the most perfect kiss we’ve ever shared. It could be the situation, it could be the hormones, it could be that I’m happier than I’ve been in far too long, but once our kiss ends, I collapse against him and let out what seems to be five years worth of tears and frustrations while he holds me to his chest, murmuring comforting, soothing words.