Summer Kisses (94 page)

“Rob could’ve given me ten rings without feeling it.” She gazed lovingly down at the tiny diamond on her hand. “After Matt bought me the GTO, he didn’t have much left from selling his patent. These were all he could afford.”

“He could’ve sold his Harley.”

“He was about to, but I wouldn’t let him. The rings Matt gave me may not be much, but they have lots of love attached to them.”

“Just because it wasn’t a financial sacrifice for Rob doesn’t mean there wasn’t just as much love involved. If you ask me, he probably cares more than your husband ever did.”

She blew out an angry huff. “Why are you constantly minimizing how much Matt loved me?”

Probably because he remembered the kind of person he used to be. Peter had been wrong when he’d called Matt a love’em and leave’em guy. Fuck’em and leave’em would’ve been much more accurate. It disgusted him to recall how many girls he’d banged while he was in college. It was a miracle he hadn’t gotten the clap or something.

“You have no idea how my husband felt so how dare you compare his love to Rob’s.”

“No, you’re right. I don’t know how Matt felt.” If he did, everything would be a whole lot simpler. His history of buzzing from flower to flower suggested he hadn’t taken Abby any more seriously than any of his other girlfriends. He’d just messed up and gotten her pregnant. “Even though I can’t speak for your husband, I can say for certain Robert loves you a lot.”

“And what makes you so sure of that?”

“What else would possess a man to call in a favor to help his
rival
get a job? Obviously, Rob wants you to be happy more than he wants to beat me out.”

“Are you saying I should marry Rob after all?”

“No, that’s not what I want. Although, it might be the best thing for you. I just want you to stop thinking the man you married was so damn special. From what your brother and you’ve told me, I have a feeling Matt wasn’t the man you think he was. He doesn’t deserve your devotion.”

“I don’t particularly care what you think. You didn’t know Matt, so stop badmouthing him in front of my son.”

His gaze shot to Tommy’s tense face. Damn. He’d forgotten they had an audience. “I’m sorry, Buddy. Your mom’s right. I don’t know enough to be able to talk about your dad that way.”

The problem was he was too well acquainted with the younger Matthew T. Foster before he met Abby. If he’d been Peter, Matt wouldn’t have let a bed-hopping Romeo like him get within a mile of Abby. In fact, he would’ve sent her to a convent on the opposite side of the country and left no forwarding address.

Abby sank into the swivel chair at her sewing machine to finish the dress she was working on. When she shook out the garment, the kids’ treasure maps fluttered to the floor.

She scooped up the intricate drawings and smiled at their vivid imaginations. Some typewritten print showed through from the back of the page and her amusement died. The boys were in hot water if they’d scribbled on something important. Flipping the papers over, she released a breath of relief. Copies of Mac’s résumé must have been in the closet, too.

Scanning the page, she read Matt’s name and gasped.

Matt’s
full
name.

Stunned, she stared at the paper, trying to think of one single, plausible explanation.

Uh-oh. Was this why Mac had been pumping her for information about her husband since the day they met? So he could use Matt’s credentials? Maybe the woman who’d asked for Matt on the phone had been from an employment agency.

For most people, being an alumnus of a prestigious school wouldn’t be worth giving up their entire identity. But Mac couldn’t remember his own life, anyway. Perhaps he figured he had nothing to lose by assuming her husband’s place in the world.

Oh, dear God. Her stomach knotted. What if Mac had made up the whole story about being held captive and he was actually a fugitive from the law. Everyone constantly berated her for being too trusting. Maybe Rob had been right about Mac all along. The only thing she knew about him was what he’d told her. That story about his amnesia could be a big fat lie.

Did he think he could just step into her husband’s shoes?

She snorted, disgusted with herself. Shoes were the least of it. She’d given him Matt’s clothes, his motorcycle—
his son
. She’d as much as handed Matt’s whole life to him on a silver platter. Dear Lord, she’d even slept with him.

Did he really think she would never find out or that, if she did, she would go along with his charade?

She yanked open the basement door and yelled down the stairs. “Mac, come up here!”

“Just a sec. I have to finish applying this coat of varnish first or it won’t come out even.”

Abby flopped into the chair to wait. What a fool he’d made of her. How dare that two-faced impostor pass himself off as a man who’d been a model of honesty and integrity?

~*~

Matt dropped the varnish brush in a jar of denatured alcohol and trotted up the steps. He found Abby seated at the table, her arms crossed over her chest, looking ready to blow a gasket.

She rose shoved the boy’s treasure maps at his chest. “Did you think I’d never find out?”

“Find out what?” He frowned at the children’s drawings. “Where they buried their baseball cards?”

She snatched the papers back and flipped them over, slapping them down on the table.

Matt’s stomach sunk.
She knew
.

He raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “Look, I understand you being pissed. But I was going to tell you eventually. I just hoped we’d fall in love with each other first.”

“You lying son-of-a-bastard. Did you honestly believe if you conned me into falling in love with you, I’d let a fraud like you take over Matthew’s life? Did you think I wanted my husband back so badly you could become him for me?”

Damn. She
didn’t
know.

He gawked at her, amazed she could possibly think he was impersonating himself. It was ludicrous. It wasn’t as if Matthew T. Foster had a whole lot going for him.

What the hell had happened to the woman who only saw the good in people?

The time had come to take the glasses off and confess he was really Superman.

Matt cupped her cheek in his hand and stared into her eyes. “Abby, I
am
your husband.”

She shoved his hand away, her face contorted in outrage. “Did I actually let someone mentally ill into my home? You’re delusional if you think you have a prayer of convincing me you’re Matt.”

“I know it’s hard for you to swallow. I’ve changed a lot. At first, I didn’t believe it, either.”

“Just stop it! Not only is what you’re doing despicable, you’re insulting my intelligence. Do you think I wouldn’t know my own husband? You are
nothing
like him.”

He could show her the copy of his birth certificate, but in her state of mind, she’d probably accuse him of forging it. One phone call to Dr. Grant could clear up the whole mess, but for some inexplicable reason, he wanted Abby to recognize the hidden man within him.

Sadly, it was just as he’d feared. The man she loved no longer existed.

“I
am
your—”

“Would you keep your voice down.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the living room.

“—husband,” he finished in a softer voice. “Whether you believe me or not.”

“You don’t quit, do you?” She huffed. “If you’re Matthew, tell me something about us that only he would know.”

“I can’t do that. I really don’t have any memory about us. I only know what you and Pete have told me.”

“What a handy excuse,” she snarled, pushing him away. “You’re not even the same age as Matt, who would’ve been twenty-nine. You’re at least thirty-five. And your hair isn’t even close to the same color.”

“Years of torture ages a person, Abby. My dad’s hair got a lot darker as he got older, too.”

“Right. And how do you explain your face being different?”

“Half the bones in it were broken at one time.”

“And I suppose they put braces on your teeth while you were a captive and straightened that crooked one.”

“No.” He scrubbed his eyes, racking his brain for a way to convince her. “I looked like Tommy and Royce when I came home. I’ve got a permanent bridge.”

Abby glared at him. “Assuming everything you’re saying could make sense, there’s still no way you could be my husband.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I’ve been to bed with you,” she whispered. “A man’s penis doesn’t grow as he ages.”

“What!” He burst out laughing and then lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “My dick is no bigger than it’s ever been. It just seems like it is because I’m so thin right now.

“Yeah, well you don’t make love anything like Matt did, either.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Your cries of ecstasy prove that’s not necessarily a bad thing.” He peered into her face. “If I’m so all-fired different, why’d you call me Matt when you came?”

She crossed her arms indignantly. “I did not.”

“The hell you didn’t.”

When she continued to stare at him, he tossed his hands up. “Fine, don’t believe me. Eventually, you’ll realize I’m giving it to you straight, and you’ll be sorry. As for now, I’m telling my son who I really am.”

“Don’t you dare!” she hollered, grabbing his arm. “I won’t let you fill my child’s head with lies. I want you out of here, right this minute. Peter will finish painting my house.”

Matt yanked his arm out of her grasp. “No. I’m staying. If you want me out of here, you’ll have to call the police.”

“Don’t think I won’t.”

“Great. Make sure you ask them to send John. While you’re contacting them, I’m talking to my son.”

She jammed her hands into her hips. “You’d better not!” He ignored her and kept going. “Mac!”

Dr. Grant had speculated that Abby’s first inclination would be to try to explain him away. A corpse couldn’t just come back to life. She needed time to accept he hadn’t died.

He sat next to his son at the piano. “Hey, Buddy, can you stop playing a minute? I want to talk to you.”

Tommy turned to face him. “But I only played a little—”

“No, it’s not about the piano. It’s about you and me.” He pulled Tommy up on his knee. “There’s something I have to tell you. Your daddy didn’t die and go to heaven like your mom thought. He was captured and has been a prisoner in another country since you were born.”

Tommy peered at him and whispered, “How do you know?”

“I know because
I’m
your real daddy.”

“Really?” Tommy’s eyes widened. “Not just make believe?”

Matt smiled and hugged him. “Not just make believe.”

The envy on Royce’s face stabbed at Matt’s heart. He held his free arm out to him and the child dropped his notebook and rushed into his embrace. Pulling the little boy to his other knee, he looked up at Abby scowling at him from the archway. He squeezed Tommy and Royce to his chest and murmured, “I love you, guys.”

~*~

Abby gnashed her teeth, horrified by what Mac was doing to her son. Evidently she wasn’t as good a judge of character as she’d always thought. How could he do something like this to a child he professed to love? Unless....

Swallowing hard, she watched him press his face to each of the boy’s heads. Could it be true? She couldn’t see how. He was too different. All except for his eyes.

She mentally replayed the various times he’d reminded her of her husband in some small aspect. But they were such minor, insignificant ways. Just phrases and mannerisms.

No
. He was merely a talented con artist, and what he was doing was cruel.

Mac put the boys each into a headlock and tickled them until they screeched.

Still, how could a fake be so good with them?

He raised his eyebrows, wearing a smug expression. “So have you called the police to come drag me out of here?”

“Not yet.” She really should. So why hadn’t she? Maybe deep down inside she wasn’t really sure. But just wishing for it to be true couldn’t make it so.

“Hey, fellas.” He mussed the boys’ hair. “I think I saw some ice cream in the freezer.” He led the kids into the kitchen and dished up three bowls, glancing over at her. “Would you like some, Abby?”

She shook her head and leaned against the cabinets to watch them. While they ate their ice cream, Mac studied the kids’ maps he’d left lying on the table. “So what treasure did you guys bury this afternoon?”

“I had a bunch of special marbles,” Tommy said.

“And I buried some really cool stones.” Royce pointed to a purple X on his map. “See? X marks the spot.”

They spent the next five minutes discussing the various landmarks the boys had used. When they finished their ice cream, Mac picked up the spoons the boys had licked clean. He put the backs of them together with their handles between his fingers and banged them against his knee. “So do you plan to dig your stuff up tomorrow, or are you going to wait a little while?”

Tommy watched him clacking the utensils together. “Wow! That’s cool. Would ya teach me how to do that?”

Abby stared at Mac’s hands cupping the spoons, and the room spun. Matt had been the only other person she’d ever known who’d done that. As her knees buckled, she grabbed the counter.

~*~

Matt noticed Abby going down out of the corner of his eye. Dropping the spoons in a clatter, he rushed over to catch her. “What’s the matter?”

She stared into his eyes and made several false starts at speaking while tears poured down her cheeks. “Oh, Matt.” She threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, sobbing. “It
is
you. Why d-didn’t you tell me?”

“If you recall, I just tried.” Smiling, he tipped her face up and dipped his head to kiss her. Feeling two small pairs of eyes watching them, he looked back and nodded toward the hallway. “It’s time for you two to hit the shower. Get going.”

After the boys ran off grinning, he kissed her gently. “Would you have believed me if I’d said something sooner?”

Wiping her eyes, she shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably not. You’ve done several things in the last week that reminded me of you, and a few minutes ago I still didn’t believe you.” She put her hand to her head. “I’m so blind. I make Lois Lane look like a genius.”