Young Revelations (Young Series) (8 page)

When it comes time to put Tyler to bed, I almost want to extend his bedtime so there’s still a buffer between Matthew and me, which makes me feel guilty for using my son. Sighing, I kiss his forehead as he’s already drifting off to sleep and turn towards the door, barely stifling a yelp when I find Matthew leaning against the doorframe. He smiles tentatively at me. “Sorry,” he mouths, stepping out into the hallway so I can pass him.

I do so without brushing against him, despite his attempts to get me to do so, and head down the hallway towards our bedroom. Having spent enough time sleeping in the guestroom, I decide I’m not letting him chase me out of our bed. It crosses my mind to make him sleep elsewhere, but I know that’ll only cause another fight, and I’m really not in the mood. I take my pajamas into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me to show him that just because I’m in our room, it doesn’t mean all is well between us. After taking my time running through my nightly routine, I exit the bathroom to find Matthew already changed into his pajama pants, no shirt, leaning against the headboard of the bed with his ankles crossed and his eyes trained on me. His eyes sparkle hopefully as I cross to the bed and pull down the covers.

“Good night,” I mutter crisply as I wrap myself with the blankets and shut off the lamp on my nightstand.

“Samantha,” he whispers.

I ignore him and eventually he gets the hint, shuts his lamp off, and gets beneath the blankets. Tears sting the backs of my eyes at the thought that I can’t remember the last time there was so much space between us in a bed. Normally we’re pressed so closely together it’s difficult to tell who is who, even when we’re just sleeping. Matthew always seemed to have a thing about keeping me nearby when he’s asleep. The first time we shared a bed it made me a little uncomfortable, but I quickly adjusted and haven’t had a decent night’s sleep without his arms around me since before we met.

Without looking at him, I know he’s not having a much better time than I am right now. I can feel him tossing and turning and hear him sighing under his breath. Finally he flops onto his back with a grunt. “Do you know why I broke up with Natalie?” he asks into the dark. I don’t answer, don’t move, don’t breathe. He sighs, shifting onto his side to address my back. “When I first met her, I’d just managed to get myself back to work for full days without drinking a bottle of whiskey or punching someone out.” I can almost see him rolling his eyes at himself. “I wasn’t exactly stable. Anyway, at that point, it’d been nearly a year since you and Tyler left. Then this girl walks in, a representative for the IRS. And I had no idea why she was there. I’m sure someone told me at some point, but I’d blocked everything out. She was there because my company was in talks with the IRS to come up with a chip.”

I swear, the temperature in the room drops several degrees as I realize what he’s talking about: the reason we’ve been brought back together after five years.

“Yeah,” he says, reading my mind. “
That
chip. So I listened to her for an hour about what the IRS was looking for, managed some sort of half-assed attempt at brainstorming, and she left. She was back a couple days later for more information. I’d had a particularly long night and she got on my nerves, and I snapped at her. She snapped right back telling me if I wasn’t up to the task, she could take her business to my father’s company.” I almost want to laugh, but bit my lip to avoid making a sound. “Well, that pissed me off, of course.” He sounds just as amused. “There was a bit of back and forth, but eventually we settled on the fact that I was taking the project. She and I worked together on it and became friends. I told her all about you and Tyler and how much I missed you both. The friendship went on for a year or so and eventually evolved.” And now all my amusement is long gone. “We were together for six months. And I suppose I was in love with her. If it had gone on…” He trails off and I suddenly feel ill. He clears his throat. “Anyway, one morning I woke up and realized everything I loved about her were the things I love about you—smart, sexy, strong, and an absolute refusal to take any of my shit. I realized I’d been comparing her to you all along. Building her up in my mind as you. And then I realized how incredibly unfair it would be to the both of us if I continued on with the relationship knowing what I’d been doing. I got out of bed, went downstairs, made her breakfast, and broke up with her. She was very understanding and said she’d suspected all along what I’d just figured out, only she had hoped it would change. She left, we remained friends and business associates, and she hasn’t had any hard feelings against me. Obviously we finished work on the chip and she stepped completely out of that mess.

“The day you saw her in my office, she’d just gotten back into town after a temporary relocation, and had come to see if I really had made it back in one piece after the plane crash. I told her about you coming back and our engagement. I should have told you who she was, but I was afraid of stressing you out too much, particularly before a doctor’s appointment you were already worried about. I should have asked if you were okay with inviting her today. I shouldn’t have let her touch me like that. I’m sorry, Samantha. And you were right about Saunders; if you’d invited him, I’d be beyond pissed off. I probably would have punched the bastard in the face in front of everyone. So for you to have the restraint to not drag Natalie out of our house by her ponytail… I’m impressed.”

He’s trying to butter me up now. Flatter me so I roll over and kiss him until we’re both struggling to breathe. And as much as I want to, I stay on my edge of the bed. I’m grateful he explained about Natalie, but that doesn’t change the fact that he lied about her and their relationship. It doesn’t help that now I associate her not only with mauling my fiancé, but with the chip that uprooted me from my life. There is a part of me that realizes if she’d gone to Matthew’s father’s company to produce the chip, I wouldn’t be in his bed right now, wearing his ring, and carrying his daughter. That only annoys me, though; I don’t want to be grateful to Matthew’s ex-girlfriend for anything, let alone something that life altering and amazing.

We fall into silence again, though I can feel his gaze on me as he waits for me to say something in response to everything I’ve just been told. Eventually our breathing evens out and I can feel myself mercifully falling asleep. My last thought is the hope that tomorrow this will all turn out to be a dream or at the very least make me feel as though this is much less significant than it seems to be right now.

––––-o––––-

Unfortunately for me, I wake up in a much worse mood than when I fell asleep. Aside from tossing and turning all night, knowing Matthew was doing the same, and the dreams I kept having of him and Natalie together, when I open my eyes, I see a pair of suitcases set outside the closet door. It takes me a few minutes to figure out why they’re there and when I do, I just want to go back to sleep. The suitcases are a reminder that tomorrow morning Matthew will be leaving for Germany and I don’t know how long it will be before I see him again. That thought makes me want to rush downstairs, find him, and not let him go until the very last second.

I don’t understand why I’m reacting so strongly to this situation. Of course there is a reason to be upset with Matthew for doing what he did, but I have to wonder whether I’m overreacting or not, especially in light of his departure tomorrow. The memory of the last time he left me to fly somewhere, I nearly lost him for good. I don’t think I could survive if that happened again.

But even with that thought in my head, the hurt and anger he’s caused isn’t enough for me to forgive him right now. I try to get my emotions in control before going downstairs, not wanting what little time Matthew has left at home with Tyler to be sullied by our fight. The boys are in the kitchen making breakfast again. I wonder briefly if they’re trying to recreate the breakfast in bed they prepared for me the morning after Matthew proposed. If that’s the case, I almost feel bad for ruining their plan. I watch them silently for a few minutes wondering if my family is going to remain together after this. Now there’s a painful thought…

Matthew turns towards me, reaching for a cabinet and jumps when he sees me, clutching at his chest and yelping. My lips twitch, but I don’t think he sees it. Tyler is laughing his little head off at his father’s reaction. Grinning slightly, Matthew shakes his head a little, glancing over his shoulder at Tyler, then turns back to me. “Good morning,” he says softly, his fingers reaching out for my hand.

When I pull away from him there is undisguised hurt in his eyes that I try to block out. “Good morning,” I say stiffly. “What’s going on?” I jerk my head into the kitchen, not looking at him.

Sighing, his jaw tense, he turns back towards Tyler. “We thought we’d make you breakfast,” he says quietly.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Tyler chides.

I grin at my son. “Well, I’m sorry I’ve ruined the surprise,” I tell him sincerely. “It smells delicious.”

“Why don’t you go relax and we’ll bring breakfast to you?” Matthew suggests.

Nodding in agreement, I turn away and head downstairs to the basement. I hate being at odds with Matthew, especially when he’s trying so hard to make up for his wrongdoings. But as much as I hate it, it’s going to take more than breakfast to fix this.

Our day is tense. Matthew and I barely interact, despite Tyler’s attempts to play with both of us. Around early evening, Matthew announces he needs to pack for the morning, making a big deal of it with an attempt to remind me he’s leaving soon. My dismissal of his announcement seems to irritate him and I have a flash of satisfaction as he turns away and heads upstairs. While Tyler is occupied with his games, Claire calls to check in with us and make sure everyone is still alive after yesterday. It doesn’t take much prompting on her part to get me to open up and tell her everything that happened last night. By the time I’m finished, I’m in tears and I’m pretty sure she wants to drive out and beat the shit out of her brother.

Once I calm down, I tell her all the thoughts I had while I tossed and turned in bed last night and I listen to her advice on how to handle the situation. I’m not surprised to hear her say she’d have done much worse to Matthew than what I did if she’d been in my position; what I am surprised to hear is that despite his moments of idiocy, she doesn’t think I should completely write him off right now, especially in light of what tomorrow will bring.

As we’re wrapping up our conversation, Matthew finds me and I immediately wipe away my tears, though not quickly enough to avoid him seeing. I tell Claire I’ll call her tomorrow, end our call, and turn towards Matthew who is standing just outside the door leading to the back deck.

“Hi,” I say, still trying to wipe away my tears.

“Hi,” he replies, taking a couple steps towards me. “So I’m leaving tomorrow.”

I nod. “I know,” I say softly.

“And I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

I nod again, fixing my eyes towards the lake as he takes a chair near me.

“Samantha, can we please talk about this?” he whispers pleadingly. “I don’t want to leave thinking you hate me.”

I look at him sharply. “I don’t hate you,” I say, rather more harshly than I’d intended. “And it’s pretty shitty of you to assume I do.”

He holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Okay,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. What can I do to make this up to you, Samantha? Please tell me. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Shaking my head, I wipe my tears again and stand. “I don’t want to be the one to tell you what to do, Matthew,” I whisper. “You need to do this for yourself, not because of what I want. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get dinner ready for my son.”

As I enter the house, I look at his reflection
in the glass door in time to see him flinch at my words and realize this is the first time since we’ve been reunited that I haven’t referred to Tyler as “our” son. As much as I wish I could wipe away all the hurt both of us feel, I stand my ground for now, not willing to back down from him, even if it destroys both of us in the process.

I have no idea what time it is when I finally hear Matthew’s breathing evening out, signaling he’s fallen asleep. As carefully and quietly as I can, I slip out of bed and for a few minutes, I just watch him. This is the only time he ever seems completely relaxed and without worry, which is a state where he seems to permanently reside these days. I wonder how much of that is my fault, and whether his life would be easier for him if Tyler and I had stayed in Omaha with Tom. I know he’s worried about the baby and me and everything around us that seems to pile up without warning. Now he has to deal with this possible indictment in Germany. I suppose Tyler and I could have gone with him for support, but he never even suggested it and at this point, I’m not sure I’d want to be there. I wonder if there’s a reason he doesn’t want us there. It could be as innocent as knowing it’ll be stressful for him and not wanting to subject us to that. Or it could be a not so innocent reason… Suddenly Natalie’s face pops up in my mind again.

Without further hesitation, I turn and leave the room. Matthew needs his sleep and if I remain in here with him, I’m likely to either beat him with a pillow or suffocate him. Before I realize where I am, I’m on the boat dock, sitting on the edge with my toes skimming the water. I was surprised to find Leo’s windows all dark; it’s rare that he’s asleep before sunrise. Not that I’m complaining; I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone or answer questions right now.

My biggest concern right now is letting Matthew leave without him knowing how I feel. I think he realizes I’m pissed off and hurt, but I don’t think he realizes exactly why I feel that way. For such a smart man, his understanding of basic human emotions leaves a lot to be desired. But at the same time, I don’t want to fight with him anymore, which I know is what will happen if we talk before he leaves.

I think back to my discussion with Claire this afternoon. Her big advice was for me to not run away and to communicate as best I can with Matthew. One of her suggestions, aside from the much less appropriate ones that involved locking him in our bedroom and taking out our frustrations with each other in bed, was to write him a letter. It’s something he can physically hold and read, and might be the perfect way to get him to understand everything.

To my surprise, the thought of having a plan actually makes me feel better. I push myself up and quickly make my way back to the house for pen and paper before sitting myself on the back deck and pouring out my feelings, hoping to God this does the job.

––––-o––––-

I wake up feeling like shit and it takes me a couple of minutes to figure out why. Glancing to my right to find an empty spot where Samantha should be, then towards the foot of the bed where my suitcases are waiting, it doesn’t take long to remember what’s happening.

I turn towards the alarm clock, groaning at the sight of the digital numbers that tell me it’s way too early to even consider being awake. Rolling out of bed, I force myself into the shower, trying not to think about where Samantha is or the status of our relationship. We’ve barely talked since Saturday afternoon and even when we did speak, it was either the two of us arguing or me groveling. Touching her is completely out of the question. We’ve had arguments before that have lasted days at a time, but nothing like this, and never right before I leave town. My biggest fear is that the moment I’m gone, she’s going to pack up Tyler and leave me, because I’ve managed to fuck up yet again and I couldn’t even just sit down and listen to her point of view.

I’m not dense enough to not understand why she was upset. If she had invited Saunders (something I never would have allowed) and I had to watch him hanging all over her, I’d lose my mind in a blind, jealous rage. That fucker wouldn’t have gotten off my property without a black eye, broken nose, and busted lip. Still, if she knew Natalie, she’d understand that’s just how Natalie is: she’s very personable and very touchy-feely. I’m used to that, so of course I didn’t see anything wrong with it until Claire came up behind me and slapped the back of my head.

There is still an hour and a half before I need to leave, so I have a bit of time to try and fix this. Dressing in jeans and a t-shirt, I head downstairs, looking for Samantha. My panic that she’s already left me is premature; she’s curled up on the couch in the basement fast asleep. She’s so small and frail looking. Of course awake, she’s anything but. I wonder when she came down here and whether it was because she needed to be away from me. As much as I hate to wake her when she seems to be sleeping so peacefully, I can’t leave when my entire life hangs in the balance.

Kneeling down beside her, I hesitantly reach out to gently rub her shoulder. “Samantha,” I whisper.

It takes a few minutes, but she finally shows signs of life and opens her eyes. I try to smile at her; I’m not sure my nerves will allow it, though. Her brow furrows adorably and then her body stiffens, carefully pulling away from my touch.

Fuck.

My hand falls to my lap. “I’m leaving soon,” I tell her quietly. “I was hoping we could talk first.”

She sits up, looking as though she hasn’t slept all night and looks at me warily. “I’ll make you breakfast.”

Before I can stop her and tell her it’s not necessary, she’s off the couch and up the stairs. We eat breakfast in the same room, though we might as well be on separate continents for all the interacting we’re doing. She won’t even look at me when I try to speak to her. And when Leo enters the house, I know there’s no chance of us clearing anything up right now.

Samantha makes herself scarce until it’s time for us to actually leave. I said goodbye to Tyler last night when I put him to bed, trying not to promise when I’ll be back, since I don’t even know. Before I go to retrieve my luggage, though, I pop into his room and imprint the image of his sleeping form to memory, hoping I’ll see this again very soon. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, I whisper an
I love you
against his skin, and smile at how he doesn’t even twitch. He truly is my son…

Downstairs, I find Samantha in the kitchen washing the dishes from breakfast. She shoots a glance at me over her shoulder and I continue outside to where Leo is loading his bags into the back of the car. He’ll be joining me on this trip mostly for support. As I throw my stuff in with his, my eyes catch movement and find Samantha slowly walking down the stairs wearing a sweatshirt to shield her against the cold. I throw Leo a look, silently asking him to give us a minute. He gives me a sympathetic smile and leads Seth, one of my other security guys and our diver for the morning, towards the side of the house. Closing the back of the SUV, I cross over to Samantha.

“Can I at least have a hug?” I’m practically on my knees begging her and I’m shameless.

To my surprise, after a few moments of thought, she nods almost imperceptibly, steps off the last stair to close the distance between us. As pathetic as it sounds, I nearly sob in relief when I feel her arms sliding around my waist and her body press against mine. I hold her as tightly as I can without squeezing the breath out of her, breathe in the scent of her hair, the warmth through her clothes. I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t do to fix this problem between us.

She begins to pull away long before I’m ready, finally looking me in the eyes for the first time since Saturday.

“I love you,” I whisper, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “You know that, don’t you?”

She doesn’t acknowledge my question. “I love you too,” she tells me. Her hands pull away from me and I want to protest until I see her reaching in the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt, retrieving what looks to be an envelope. She then hands it to me.

“What’s this?” I ask, unable to keep the fear from my voice. The envelope is thick, almost straining against the folded paper inside.

“Reading material for the plane,” she tells me quietly. “Please wait until you’re in the air before you read it.”

Alarm bells are going off in my head. What the hell did she put in here that she doesn’t want me to open it until I’m in the air? “Samantha, what is this?”

She only smiles sadly before pushing up on her tiptoes and pressing her lips against mine. Instinct has my hands flying to her face, cradling her cheeks as she kisses me for all she’s worth. I can’t remember the last time a kiss between us was this desperate and I’m really getting scared about what this might mean for us. Why does it feel like she’s kissing me for the last time?

When our kiss ends, she backs away, tears in her eyes. “Have a safe flight,” she whispers.

I nod. “I’ll call you when I land,” I promise.

With that, I’m forced to turn away from her when Leo tries to discreetly clear his throat to tell me it’s time to leave. “I love you,” I remind her, leaning in to kiss her once more. It’s much briefer than before and I have to get to the car. We back down the driveway and I watch her growing further and further away from me and I clutch her envelope to me as thought it’s the last thing of hers I’ll ever hold.

––––-o––––-

The time it takes to get from my house to the airplane, then the airplane to cruising altitude might as well be an eternity. I’ve been so distracted that I barely thought about possible sabotage to yet another one of my jets and trusted my pilots to complete the preflight check. This is something I never do, even before the incident in Germany; there’s only so much I’m willing to leave to chance. But the only thing on my mind is Samantha and whether she’ll be at home when I return.

Leo tries to engage me in conversation, I think about our coming days, but I tune him out, my eyes locked on the lit seatbelt sign at the front of the plane. The moment it turns off, I’m out of my seat, muttering something about taking a nap that I know doesn’t fool Leo in the slightest, and make a beeline to the back of the plane and the small sleeping cabin. I take off my shoes, carefully remove the envelope from my jacket pocket, switch on a light, and sit on the edge of the bed, unfolding the thick stack of paper. For a moment I just look at Samantha’s neat, perfect script and I notice several spots where the paper is darker, almost as though she’d been crying while she wrote this. I don’t think I’ve ever been so afraid of reading anything in my life. Have I really messed up so badly that I’m about to lose her again?

It takes me several minutes to get up enough nerve to read, my fingers trembling with every word.

––––-o––––-

Matthew,

Right now it’s going on one in the morning and I’m sitting on the back deck trying to figure out what I want to say to you. The reason I’m writing rather than actually talking to you is because I’m afraid that the moment I open my mouth, we’ll just end up arguing again and all things considered, I think that’s the last thing we need right now.

I suppose to make you understand what I’m thinking and feeling right now, I need to go back to the beginning. The day I met you, I came alive. That might sound cheesy or melodramatic, but it’s the plain and simple truth. Even before my mom died, I don’t think I felt the way I did after you walked into Chet’s. I felt as though you completed something within me that I didn’t even know existed and I can’t imagine what my life would be like if I hadn’t met you. I think you’re well aware that I never understood what it is about me that you love so much and though I want to understand, I’m not sure it’s something you can ever properly explain. It’s the same with how I feel about you: I can give you a list of reasons why you’re everything to me, but in the end, there are not enough words to explain exactly how I feel whenever we’re together.

From the beginning, you terrified me. Not because of your physical presence or your money or anything else like that. It was because I didn’t understand what it meant for me that I’d fallen for you as quickly and surely as I had. I don’t know how it was for you, but for me, it was like all the breath had been knocked out of me. I tried to fight it; I’d never been the type of girl who thought she would ever need another person in order to be happy. I wanted to be independent. You didn’t so much destroy that desire as shred it beyond recognition. And I don’t mean to imply you took away my independence or controlled me or any of that. I only mean that the minute I met you, all the hopes and dreams I had for my life changed, and all I wanted was you. I tried to resist you, thinking that the moment you went back to wherever you came from, you’d forget about me, and if I didn’t get over the crush I had on you, you would just be another thing to add to the things I wanted but would never have.

That second time you visited the diner and waited for my shift to end, I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to either throw something at you or walk up to you and kiss you. Of course I couldn’t do either, but the desires were there. When I saw you talking to Tom, I didn’t know what to think. He’s always been protective of me, especially after Mom died, and I knew immediately he didn’t trust you in the slightest. Imagine that… You never asked me why I lied to Tom that day about why I cancelled our plans for that evening. I’d intended to go out with him that night; it was supposed to be our first date after so long of him trying to convince me to go out with him. But when I saw you sitting there next to Tom and his mother, I reacted without thinking about the consequences. I justified it by telling myself that Tom would be around after you left and he and I could go out another time.

You were the first person since my mother died to not treat me as though I would break with the slightest touch. You were sorry for my loss, but didn’t pity me for it, if that makes sense. Maybe it was because we didn’t know each other and you weren’t around to know my mother. Whatever it was, you were a breath of fresh air to me. And that was before you even kissed me—which, incidentally, had been the best kiss I ever had up to that point. And before you get all defensive, all the other kisses we shared later on only seemed to be more incredible than the last.