Young Revelations (Young Series) (34 page)

“Right, because that makes complete sense,” Bonnie says sarcastically. “You’re telling me it’s better for Samantha and Tyler to live out of suitcases at your sister’s house than to be at home with you where they belong?”

“No,” I reply instantly. “But that’s the decision she’s made and for now, I have to respect that. Like I said, I’m working on it.”

“Work faster,” she demands. “I don’t know how long she’ll be at lunch. Do you want to hang around until she gets back?”

I run my fingers through my hair. “No,” I say regretfully. “It’s probably not the best idea for me to have just dropped in like this anyway. It was a spur of the moment decision, and I don’t want her to think I’m pressuring her to make a decision.”

“Maybe if you made some sort of attempt to communicate with her…”

“Yeah,” I say, pushing off the counter. “Well, I’m spending Thanksgiving at my sister’s, with Samantha and Tyler and I intend to have a good conversation with her then.”

“I’ll make sure of that,” Bonnie says with a grin. “I’ve been invited as well. And I’ll be bringing my nephew.”

This catches my attention. “The mysterious nephew of Bonnie Harris,” I say with my own grin. “About damn time.”

She huffs a laugh. “You say that now,” she mutters. I narrow my eyes at her. “Anyway, I’ve got work to do. And if you want to wait until Thanksgiving to speak with Sam, which I think is a damn foolish decision by the way, you might want to be on your way.”

I glance at my watch and nod. “I’ve got an appointment soon anyway,” I tell her. “Don’t tell Samantha I was here. I don’t want her stressing out or getting upset.”

Bonnie gives me a sympathetic smile and tells me she’ll see my on Thanksgiving, and I head back towards my car. As I cross the street near a little café Samantha and I used to frequent whenever we came into town, it occurs to me I haven’t brought her here recently whereas seven years ago we tended to make up excuses to come every couple days. Samantha usually has their grilled chicken sandwich with a loaded baked potato side dish, and for dessert we split a huge piece of cake between us.

And as though wishing could give me what I want most, I swear I see Samantha inside the café as I cross the street towards it. Approaching the building, I realize I am seeing Samantha, and I forget everything I was supposed to do today. From where I’m standing she’s pale, thin, tired-looking, but she has a smile on her face, however wan it is. She’s a beautiful sight as always and at least she’s eating and taking care of herself again. I debate whether I should go in and say hello, but that thought is forgotten the moment my eyes find her apparent lunch date.

“You’ve got to be kidding…” I mutter to myself.

Dr. Mark Reilly is sitting across the table from Samantha grinning like the dipshit douchebag he is. He says something and I can hear faint sounds of her giggle—the giggle I thought she reserved specifically for me. I suppose that’s a bit arrogant, thinking a laugh of any sort can be reserved for one person, but I really don’t give a shit at this point. She’s mine. That giggle is mine. And Dr. Dipshit is not going to win.

More determined than ever to get her back, I force myself to turn away and head for my car.

––––-o––––-

Sitting across from Mark, I’m actually having an enjoyable lunch hour. From the moment he came to the bookstore to pick me up, I’ve been carefree and relaxed, and I wonder if that’s a result of Mark himself or the fact that I’m socializing with somebody who isn’t directly associated with Matthew. Either way, I’m in no hurry to return to reality.

My morning didn’t start out on a great note. It seems Tyler has hit an age where he’s acting out and he decided to make a scene at breakfast. I’m still not even sure what had him so upset; he was cranky from the moment I woke him and it only got worse when I placed a plate of eggs and sausage in front of him. Apparently he would have preferred bacon and he threw a fit, swiping his arms across the table and knocking his plate to the floor. From there, he refused to apologize for ruining the breakfast Claire made for him, then screamed bloody murder when I tried to get him ready for school. A well-placed swat on his backside stopped the tantrum, but the drive to school was silent aside from the occasional sniffle in the backseat.

Claire thinks he’s just acting out because he misses Matthew and he’ll get over it. She insists that by the time I pick him up from school today to begin his Thanksgiving holiday break, he’ll be back to my sweet little boy again. I’m not so confident. He never acted like this before. The so-called terrible twos were a complete breeze for me—the worst he’s ever gotten has been when he’s sick or over-tired. His nightmares have gotten fewer and far between, but I’m sure they still affect him somehow. It’s possible all the changes in scenery have caught up with him and he’s as sick of moving around as I am. I’m working on that, though I’ve still not come up with a solution that I’m happy with for more than a couple hours. Stay in New York to be near Matthew and Claire, especially with the baby coming. Go back to Iowa and live with my brother on the farm, only to revert back to my pre-Matthew days by working at Chet’s to support my son. Find someplace completely different and start a new life for the both of us. Or swallow my pride and go back to Matthew, where I feel I belong. Even though I’ve been debating the same four scenarios, I don’t settle on any one for more than a couple hours before second-guessing everything again.

Thanksgiving is going to be interesting to say the very least. When I told Claire that Mark is Bonnie’s nephew, she told me to invite both of them to dinner, saying she’d planned on inviting Bonnie anyway. She still hasn’t told me whether Matthew will be joining us as well—apparently he’s yet to decide—but if he does come, it’ll be interesting to see how he interacts with Mark, all things considered. Personally I think she’s inviting Mark for the entertainment factor of having him and Matthew under the same roof on a day meant for family.

I push aside that thought and tune back into my discussion with Mark about a book he’s been reading. While I’m sure the premise of the book is interesting, considering how animate he is talking about it, I honestly have no idea what the damn thing is about—I’ve been daydreaming for most of our lunch. If he’s noticed my lack of interest, it hasn’t bothered him; he continues to try engaging me in conversation.

When our food arrives, I shake myself, determined to make up for my less than interested responses and come up with a topic that might actually manage that. “Can I ask you something?” I say as I cut into my baked potato.

“Of course,” Mark says, seemingly pleased that I’m engaging in conversation with him finally.

I take a deep breath, uncertain if I actually want the answer. “Is Bonnie okay?”

He looks at me in surprise, then immediately averts his gaze, but I don’t miss the sadness that crosses his features. “She hasn’t told you?” he asks softly. I shake my head. He sighs. “Without betraying her confidence as both her family and a doctor, all I can really tell you is that she’s getting the best care possible.”

That doesn’t sound promising. “Can you tell me if it’s life-threatening?” I ask tentatively.

He doesn’t respond, but he holds my gaze and I know the answer to that is yes.

I nod, returning my attention to my lunch. “Okay,” I say quietly. “I won’t ask anymore about it.”

Mark gives me a tight smile and we sit in silence for a few minutes as we eat. “So have you told Tyler about the puppy?” he asks with a grin.

I snort a laugh and roll my eyes. “No. And at this point, I’m debating on whether he’s getting a puppy for Christmas or coal in his stocking,” I mutter.

Mark’s eyebrows shoot up. “Causing trouble, is he?”

Shrugging, I tell him about Tyler’s tantrum and how he’s never acted like that before.

“Granted I’m not an expert in child psychology, but I know when I was around his age, I went through a phase where I put my mother through the wringer even though she didn’t deserve it. I got over it in a few months, though, so I’m sure Tyler will be the same,” he comments.

“Well, I think I know what’s causing his sudden change in behavior and the solution to the problem isn’t an easy one,” I say wryly. Mark cocks his head to the side and raises a questioning eyebrow, inviting me to explain further if I want to. “I think he misses Matt.”

“Ah,” Mark says, nodding. “I wasn’t going to ask, but I did hear the two of you split up.”

Rolling my eyes, I take a sip of my water. “You know, there’s something to be said for being in love with a man whose personal life isn’t the talk of an entire town,” I mutter sarcastically.

Mark chuckles. “Sorry,” he says sincerely. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t know the details.”

“There’s not really much to know,” I tell him. “I got to the point that I decided I needed to separate myself from his life, take a step back and figure out if being with him is worth all the heartache and risk and drama. I mean, in the past six months, I’ve been taken from my home in Omaha in the middle of the night with my son and ex-boyfriend; Matthew has, for lack of a better description, died in a fiery plane crash, then miraculously came back to life. My son and I were kidnapped and we could have died. I found out I’m pregnant. I nearly lost my baby because I watched a video of my fiancé having sex in his office with
his
ex. My son has been kidnapped. When is it going to end?”

He looks at me with complete sympathy. “I wish I had an answer for you,” he says. “But like you said, you’ve got to be the one to make the decision. If you want my opinion, there’s no doubt in my mind that you love him and he loves you, and for most people, that would be enough. Though when you take into account all the things you’ve been through, I think anybody would have second thoughts. Do you want to be with him?”

I nod. “Yes,” I whisper. “More than anything. But every time we’re together, something bad happens that neither of us can stop. I don’t feel as though he fully trusts me, and I’m struggling to find a place in his life when for so long he’s managed without me. I never stopped needing him, and he says the same is true for him, but he hasn’t proven that.”

“Why does he need to prove it?” Mark asks challengingly. “He came after you and Tyler when you were taken. He went after Tyler again without hesitation. And considering what he walked in on that morning in the hospital between me and you, he’s dealing with a lot of the same issues you are. I can’t tell you whether he trusts you, but he does keep coming for you. If nothing else, he’s damn determined.”

“Yes, he’s so very determined that he hasn’t sent me so much as a text message in weeks.” I’m surprised at the bitterness in my voice.

“Well, you wanted space,” Mark says matter-of-factly. “He’s giving you that. If he’s as smart as he seems, he won’t leave you to your thoughts for much longer. For all you know, he’s planning some grand romantic gesture to win you back.”

I grin. “He is good at grand romantic gestures,” I say softly. “It’s more the everyday gestures I’m interested in seeing.”

“Give him time,” Mark urges. “No man in his right mind would let you go, especially when he has your heart the way I know Matt has yours.”

Blushing, I look down at my lunch. To my relief, Mark changes the subject to much more lighthearted topics and within minutes I’m laughing with him about nothing in particular. As I finish my lunch I get the feeling that I’m being watched. I look over to the entrance of the café and for a very brief moment, I swear I’d seen Matthew passing by the window. I shake myself. It’s the middle of a business day and he wouldn’t skip out on work to come into town an hour away from his building.

Mark insists on paying for lunch, then walks me back to the bookstore where I tell him I’ll see him on Thanksgiving. We hesitate for a few moments as though both of is wondering what we should do—I have the brief image of him leaning in and kissing me, and I think he does to, but neither of us makes the move to do so, much to my relief. Instead, he smiles tersely at me and opens the door for me to enter. I do, turning to look over my shoulder as he heads towards his car, running his hands through his hair in what looks to be frustration.

––––-o––––-

“You seem agitated, Matthew.”

I look up from my rapidly tapping feet to shoot an incredulous expression to Dr. Morris. “Do I?” I respond sardonically. “Imagine that…”

“Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

Sighing, I lean back in my seat and stare at the ceiling, shaking my head. “I saw Samantha today,” I say quietly.

“I thought you were waiting until Thanksgiving to see her,” Dr. Morris comments.

“It wasn’t planned,” I reply. “I was in town running some errands and she’s working at a bookstore owned by a friend of ours. I was just going to pop in and say hello, but Samantha was out having lunch. I stayed for a bit to chat with our friend, then left to come here. And as I was heading back to my car, I walked past this little restaurant and saw her through the window.”

Dr. Morris nods. “What did you think when you saw her?”

I smile sadly. “I thought about how beautiful she looked and how much I miss her and how much I hate that I’ve lost these weeks with her when with every day that passes, our baby is getting bigger. I thought about how meaningless my existence seems without her. And then I thought about beating the shit out of the fucking asshole sitting across from her.”

Dr. Morris looks at me sternly. “Language, Matthew,” she reminds me sternly. “We’ve discussed this before.”