“Oh, so now he’s my son,” Matthew responds teasingly. “I see how it is.”
I ignore him as we approach the reception desk where I’m handed a manila folder containing the ultrasound images. With a hand resting on my lower back, Matthew guides me towards the elevators, a crooked smile still on his face. He looks like Christmas has come early, and I don’t know if that’s because of the kiss in the exam room or something else. Unlike when we arrived and maintained distance from one another, Matthew leans against the elevator wall right beside me and has yet to remove his hand from my back. Not that I’m complaining. We seem to have gotten over several hurdles today, all of which seemed insurmountable just two days ago, and I couldn’t be happier about that. Judging by the content expression on his face, neither can he.
It’s not surprising when I realize I’m not looking forward to the moment he drops me off, whether it be at the bookstore or back at Claire’s. As much as I want to turn to him and tell him I want to come home, I’m determined to at least see things through to our date tomorrow night. And it hasn’t escaped my notice that he hasn’t mentioned me coming home at all; while this might have made me wonder if there was some underlying reason, I realize it’s because he doesn’t want to pressure me into a decision. He knows this has to be my choice, since I’m the one who ended us to begin with, and I’m incredibly impressed by this newfound patience of his. I wonder if it’s got something to do with his therapy sessions…
As promised, Matthew drives us to a little pizza shop not far from the doctor’s office and the employees seem thrilled as we walk through the door. Apparently the storm is hurting their business. The result is that we have eager servers practically tripping over themselves to tend to us. I know how they feel; the only thing that ever closed Chet’s Diner in Iowa was a power outage and even then, Chet would get the generators going and try to go on with business as usual. There were days we were lucky to have a handful of customers all day and the rest of the time was deathly boring.
A hand waves in front of my face and I blink myself back to the moment, finding Matthew grinning in the chair across from me. “I ordered pepperoni and spinach,” he informs me. “I remember you liked that when you were pregnant with Tyler. If you want something else…”
I smile, shaking my head. “Sounds delicious.”
He beams at me, reaching across the table for my hand and starts playing with my fingers. “So Claire mentioned something interesting yesterday,” he begins, his eyes studying my fingers as though they are the most interesting things in the world. I raise an eyebrow in question. “Something about Reilly and Tyler and a puppy…”
Inwardly, I roll my eyes, making a mental note about talking to Claire about saying things just to bait Matthew, which I know was her intention for bringing up that particular subject. “I was thinking about getting Tyler a puppy for Christmas,” I tell him quietly.
Brow furrowed, he looks up at me. “If Tyler wants a puppy, I can get him one,” he says. “I don’t need some other guy getting my son a puppy for Christmas.”
Sighing, I lean back in my chair, inadvertently pulling my hand from his grasp. A hurt expression crosses his face briefly, but I need him to understand rather than jumping to conclusions. “I’m perfectly aware of how capable you are of getting Tyler a puppy,” I say. “And if this hadn’t come along, I’d say go for it. But Mark’s dog fathered a litter and they’ve managed to find homes for most of the puppies except for the runt. Bonnie brought it up in the context that her nephew had puppies and I had no idea it was Mark. He came to the bookstore and showed me a picture of the puppy. It’s not about Mark giving Tyler a puppy or taking anything away from you. It was an opportunity and I took it. That’s all.”
He nods slowly, accepting my words. “Okay,” he says slowly. “And were you going to tell me about your lunch date with the doctor?”
Honestly, I’m surprised he hasn’t brought this up sooner… “It wasn’t a date,” I tell him. “It was lunch between two friends.”
“Well, imagine my surprise when I passed the café and saw the two of you through the window.”
I blink a few times as his words sink in. “You were there?” I ask. I assumed the first he’d heard about that lunch outing was yesterday when Jessica casually mentioned it over dinner.
He nods. “I’d been in town running some errands and stopped into the bookstore to see you, but Bonnie said you were out. I decided to just head to my therapy appointment and I walked past the window. Do you have any idea how much self-restraint it took to not rush in there and cause a huge scene?”
“Why didn’t you?” I ask curiously.
“I didn’t think it would do me any favors,” he responds, grinning crookedly. “That and I wasn’t in a particularly good place that day. During my therapy session, Dr. Morris got me talking about what I saw at the café and that led to a discussion about your relationship with Tom.”
“Tom?” I repeat in disbelief—only partly because he’s using Tom’s first name rather than his last or one of the many derogatory nicknames he’s come up with over the years.
Again, he nods. “I realized I haven’t given you enough credit when it comes to other men. I’ve always been jealous and overprotective and slightly possessive of you, and I’ve tried so hard to keep all that to a minimum, because it scared me when I realized I’d never felt that way about anybody before or after you. My insecurities have made me think the worst of you with both Tom and Reilly. I assumed that day in the hospital that there was something more between you two than mere platonic friendship. I assumed that fucking video had driven you into the arms of another man, and even after you tried to explain what was really there between you, there was still that little niggling doubt in the back of my mind. Dr. Morris thinks that’s why I keep screwing things up with you—she thinks I’m going on the defensive by hurting you because my subconscious believes you’re going to hurt me.”
I can only stare at him. I hate what he’s saying to me, though I’m beyond relieved he’s finally being open and honest without my prompting. And it makes sense, even if his feelings on the subject are rather skewed. I couldn’t intentionally hurt him, certainly not by leaving him for another man.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair and opens his mouth to speak. Our server approaches at that moment with our pizza. Matthew gives her a tight smile and a nod of thanks as she goes back to work. “I know it sounds bad,” he continues, putting a slice of pizza onto a plate and handing it to me. “And I know logically you couldn’t do that to me. It came as one hell of a shock to me when I realized you’d rather be alone than be without me.”
“How could that possibly come as news to you?” I ask him incredulously. “I’ve told you that. You saw it when Tom and I were staying with you.”
He nods. “I know,” he says quietly, picking at his pizza a little. “And it’s not that it came as news to me, but the way Dr. Morris approached the issue made me see it from a different angle and I get it now.”
I can only shake my head. No matter how far we seem to come in understanding each other, we always end up right back where we started. Nothing I say or do is enough to convince him he’s it for me. There is no one else that could ever measure up and I’m at a loss of how to proceed. “We spent five years apart,” I say quietly. “And in those five years, we’ve both tried to move on in some capacity and obviously those attempts aren’t going to be easy for either of us to just ignore. But if we don’t put that behind us, we’re not going to last and we both know it.”
“I agree,” he replies. “I think when it comes down to it, I’m absolutely terrified of you, Sam. Of what I feel for you and how intrinsic that is to my very being. Of how there is nobody else in this entire world who could hurt me the way you can. I’m scared of losing you for good, even while I know you would probably be better off without me. But you’re right; we can’t keep bringing up old issues if we want to move forward. And I very much want to move forward with you
.”
“I want that too,” I tell him. “I’m not going to lie to you, Matt. It’s not easy knowing you had other women in your life after I left, especially when one of those women has made herself known the way she did. And I know it’s not easy for you knowing about my relationship with Tom. But that is my past just as Natalie and whoever else is your past. I don’t want to think about anything but our future. Yours and mine and Tyler’s and our daughter’s. I don’t want Mark Reilly or anybody else and I need you to trust me when I tell you that, because it is one hundred and fifty percent truth.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes eating our lunch and our server refills our drinks, asking if we need anything else. I politely decline any further service, since Matthew is so lost in his thoughts that he can’t seem form any sort of response. It’s only when I reach for another slice of pizza that he reacts, taking my plate for me and intently putting a slice on it before placing it in front of me again. I don’t get a chance to eat it yet; he’s taken both my hands and pushed aside our food so he can look directly at me as he speaks. “I do trust you,” he whispers. “More than anyone else in the world, I trust you, Samantha. You are the only person who has never wanted anything from me but me. Not money, not job opportunities, nothing. Nine years ago, I never would have believed someone like you existed, let alone that you could possibly want anything to do with me. I kept waiting for whatever the catch might be, that maybe I’d wake up some morning and you’d be a complete figment of my imagination. And then one day you were gone and my entire life shattered. Now you’re back and carrying our second child, and I still can’t quite believe this is happening.”
“Is that why we keep ending up here?” I ask him. “Because you think this is some sort of dream? Matt, this is as real as it gets. And if you don’t realize that soon, I don’t know if—”
Before I’m fully aware of what’s going on he’s out of his chair and I’m out of mine, and he’s kissing me with everything he’s got. I grasp his arms to keep myself upright and can barely keep up with the eagerness of his lips and tongue. When he pulls away, we’re both breathless and he seems to realize suddenly we’re standing in the middle of a restaurant, otherwise I think he would have happily shoved our lunch onto the floor and put me in its place. He glances over his shoulder and we both see our server and one of the pizza cooks watching us unabashedly. Matthew frowns at them and clears his throat; they quickly scatter away and he turns back to me.
“If this is a dream,” he tells me, despite our mutual knowledge that the moment has gone, “I don’t ever want to wake up.”
I smile and try not to roll my eyes at the cliché. It is sort of sweet… “Neither do I,” I reply.
He smiles and we sit down again to finish our lunch.
Twice today we’ve ended up sharing a heated kissing session in public. And while that might be considered far less than normal when we’re getting along, I remind myself that we are technically broken up right now. We shouldn’t be behaving like this. Then again, we’ve never really been able to resist the temptation of each other and today is just another instance of that. It’ll be a miracle if we get through our date tomorrow night still fully dressed…
“You going to answer that?” Matthew asks thickly around his pizza crust.
My brow furrows and he points to my cell phone that’s buzzing beside me. I glance at the screen to find a text message from Bonnie waiting for me. When I check, I’m not really all that surprised to see that she’s decided to close up shop early because of lack of business due to the storm. “No need to take me to the bookstore,” I tell Matthew, returning to lunch. “She’s closing up.”
He nods as though he suspected as much and for a brief moment I wonder if he arranged it. “Back to Claire’s, then?” he asks, wiping at his mouth with a napkin.
I nod. “I suppose so,” I reply quietly, uncertain if I want him to drag this afternoon out longer or if we should be alone with our thoughts for a while. He makes the decision for us and leads me back to the car, once again opening the door and helping me in, though he doesn’t close the door before bending enough to press a quick kiss to my lips.
“Couldn’t resist,” he mutters by way of explanation and closes the door.
Biting my lip against a grin, I know damn well he could have resisted; he just didn’t want to. And really, I wouldn’t have wanted him to.
The drive back to Claire’s is light and happy and joking, and I love times like these with him. I hadn’t realized how empty the last few weeks have been without them. While I know one day can’t possibly fix everything between us, every time we sit down and have a real conversation we’re making more progress than we’ve made in months.
We pull into Claire’s driveway and he puts the car in park, then turns towards me. “Did you want to come in?” I ask, really not wanting him to leave. “I’m sure Tyler would love the time with you.”
He smiles slightly. “I’d love to, but I have some work that needs to be wrapped up by this evening.” I try to hide my disappointment as he reaches over to tuck some hair behind my ear. “Thank you for letting me take you to your appointment today,” he says softly, his fingers lingering on my cheek. “And for having lunch with me and everything in between.”
I nod in response, then reach for my purse. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his expression fall as he probably believes I’m just going to bolt from the car without another word. Removing the manila envelope from my bag, I reach in and take out one of the ultrasound scans to hand him. “Take this with you,” I order quietly.
The smile on his face as he takes the photo makes me melt a little more. “Thank you,” he says. “I know the perfect place for this.” We smile at each other again and he finally leans in for a kiss that I immediately deepen. He gasps in surprise at my eagerness, but quickly responds by tangling his fingers in my hair while I do the same with his, holding him in place. I don’t stop until I realize I’m about a second away from crawling into his lap to continue this in a more comfortable position, and then I remember we’re in Claire’s driveway, which is probably not the best venue for this. We slowly pull away from one another, our breathing equally erratic.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I whisper, resting my forehead against his.
He nods slightly, one of his hands still at my neck. “Absolutely,” he breathes, pressing one last kiss to my lips before pulling away from me completely.
I exit the car and try to get myself together enough that I can walk up to the front porch without falling. After telling him to drive safely, I head up to the house, knowing he’s watching my every move, and I’m suddenly more excited than ever about tomorrow night’s date.
26
Pulling into my sister’s driveway, I can’t recall ever being so nervous for a date in my life. I spent most of the last twenty-four hours pacing around my house, running my hands through my hair—which only caused it to stick up in every possibly direction—and making last minute arrangements. I need this to be perfect as I have this feeling tonight will make or break my relationship with Samantha and if even one tiny detail is out of place, that might well be the end of us.
Logically, I know she won’t be critiquing the date and grading it. But after yesterday, in my mind at least, anything less than perfection is not good enough for her. Possibly the highlight of the day had been giving our daughter a name. When I thought of Olivia, I knew there would be a chance Samantha would shoot it down immediately, but of all the other names I’ve considered, that’s the one that’s stuck with me. Olivia Young. Or, if things go sour between Sam and me, Olivia Everett. I know which one I prefer… And when I wasn’t pacing my house like a caged animal last night, I was recalling how incredibly wonderful it felt to kiss her again. I realized the only reason she was holding back was because we were in public for most of the day; if we’d been anywhere else, I’m not sure which of us would have been more eager to get the other undressed.
I’m trying my best not
to get my hopes up that tonight will end with us in my bed, and I’ve had to take a few cold showers today to get my mind back on the right track. I don’t want her to think tonight is all about seducing her, though I think as the night goes on it will be more difficult to keep those thoughts at bay. It’s a good thing the weather has turned as cold as it has; otherwise, I would need another cold shower before we leave for our date.
I switch off the ignition to my car, realizing Samantha’s isn’t in the driveway, and head up to the house. I’m at least a couple hours early, since I couldn’t sit around at home anymore without pulling out my hair. She’s probably finishing up work at the bookstore. I figured I could fit in some time with my son before she gets back. Almost the moment I ring the doorbell beside the front door, my phone rings. I scowl as I reach for it, already knowing who’s calling and why.
“Marcus,” I say by way of greeting. “Hope you had a good Thanksgiving.”
“Yeah, it was stupendous,” he responds sarcastically. “Thought you’d want to know Natalie Walsh is being extradited to New York State next week to face kidnapping charges. She’s also being linked with a few other crimes that I don’t yet have details about, though I suspect they involve Frank Marone in some capacity.”
I sigh as the front door opens and Claire appears. Holding up one finger to tell her I’ll be inside in a minute, I walk to the end of the porch for a bit more privacy. “Not exactly what I wanted to hear,” I tell Marcus. “What are the chances she’ll be bailed out before trial?”
“Slim to not in a million fucking years,” he responds matter-of-factly. “And even if the judge decides to be lenient, she’s not leaving the county.”
That makes me feel a little better. The last thing we need right now is for Natalie to make another appearance in our lives. I’m only now starting to convince Samantha she and Tyler are safe with me. And I should probably tell Samantha about this rather than letting her find out some other way. We can’t have any other secrets between us, even when I think it would be better for her to not know. “Keep me updated,” I tell Marcus. “I’ll probably be incommunicado tonight—Sam and I are going out—but I’ll be around tomorrow.”
Young Revelations (Young Series) Page 41