Young Lies (Young Series Book 1) (40 page)

I hear him pull his chair closer to my bed. “Samantha, look at me,” he demands, his voice thick with emotion. I shake my head slightly, but don’t look at him. He sighs and stands, and the next thing I know the mattress on my bed is sinking with the weight of him sitting beside me. I feel the gentle pressure of his thumb and forefinger on my chin, tugging my head to meet his gaze. I’m shocked to find him smiling at me. “That’s how you really felt about it? Having someone else’s child?”

I nod as much as I can with him holding me in place. “Yes,” I whisper. “It didn’t seem right. I love Tom and I know he’ll make a wonderful father—hell, he was incredible with Tyler—but I was always afraid I’d resent any child I had with Tom if for no other reason than I’d know it wasn’t yours. What the hell kind of mother does that make me, Matt?”

“You’re an incredible mother,” he tells me, leaning forward to rest his forehead against mine. “Please don’t ever think any differently.” I look up through my eyelashes half-expecting him to lean in and kiss me. Instead he’s just watching me as though he’s trying to figure me out, which is just insane considering he’s the person who knows me best in the world. “Samantha, I’m only going to ask once, mostly because I’m well aware a man should never ask a woman this question...” He waits for me to nod before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly as he worked out the wording for what he wants to ask. “Am I going to be a father again?”

I smile. “Yes,” I whisper.

His eyelids slide shut slowly like he’s savoring that one word. I feel one of his hands slide from my chin to my neck, then slide to the back, cupping my head gently. “Thank fuck for that,” he breathes against my lips before kissing me in a way I think I might actually melt. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead between my neck and shoulder, pressing tiny little kisses to my skin. “I love you. The second you’re out of this hospital, you and Tyler are coming home with me. Don’t leave me again, Samantha.”

“I could say the same to you,” I respond, bringing my good arm up to touch him as best I can.

Sitting back, I see his eyes watering and his lips smiling. “Fair enough,” he says. “Not that you’re getting rid of me again.”

And with that, he gently pushes me back onto the bed, kicks off his shoes, and curls up beside me, our entwined fingers resting over my belly. For the first time in days, I fall asleep easily and happily.

I push open the shower door allowing the steam to escape and step out carefully, reaching out blindly for a towel to dry off. Somewhere outside the bathroom, I hear high-pitched giggling and deep, rich laughter, and I smile to myself as I remove the bag I have taped o
ver the plaster cast on my left arm.

The last few weeks have been interesting to say the least. A couple days after Matthew and I had our conversation in the hospital, the doctors overlooking my care decided I was well enough to leave and, true to his word, Matthew was right there to take me home with him. Claire and Danny were waiting for us at the house along with their kids and Tyler, and we spent most of the evening on the back deck with Leo, the grill running and the liquor flowing. Well, for them; I was relegated to soda and water. At some point I fell asleep in my chair and when I next woke, I was in bed with Matthew’s arms around my middle and the gentle breeze of his breath on the back of my neck.

Thankfully, this is how I’ve woken since I got out of the hospital. The few nightmares I’ve experienced—usually involving something happening to Tyler—or waking in the middle of the night because I hear a strange sound in the house and thinking someone has broken in have left me on the brink of panic and only Matthew’s presence has kept me from running through the house to get to Tyler or calling the police. Matthew has been incredibly understanding about the nightmares and paranoia, holding me until I calm down, reminding me he’s there and not going anywhere even when doing this means he loses sleep of his own. Sometimes we’ll just lie together and talk quietly about whatever comes to mind; sometimes he distracts me with more physical pursuits; sometimes we don’t do anything more than wrap our arms around one another.

Getting into a normal routine has taken a little longer than I thought it might. Matthew is trying to balance his work life, investigation into everything that’s happened, and spending as much time possible with Tyler and me, and I know it’s putting a strain on him. But of course he tells me he’s fine whenever I ask and immediately changes the subject to anything else. Today will be the first day he’s had to get any sort of relaxation, even though we both know there won’t be much of that going on.

Sighing, I wrap myself in a robe, step out of the bathroom, and head to the bedroom door, poking my head out to see Matthew and Tyler tangled up on the floor wrestling and giggling. I always knew they’d be great together, but it doesn’t seem to matter how often I walk up on a scene like this; without fail, my heart warms and my eyes water. I’m inclined to believe it’s hormones, but I’m starting to think I’m wrong. Clearing my throat to get their attention, I try to arrange my expression into something sterner knowing I’m failing miserably.

They both look up at me breathless, faces flushed, and huge grins. “Shouldn’t we be getting ready to leave?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“We were,” Matthew tries to tell me, reaching over to set Tyler on his feet. “Tyler couldn’t find his shoes.”

I look pointedly all around the hallway where we’re standing in search of the shoes. “Well, I think you’re looking in the wrong place,” I tell him, crossing my arms and leaning against the frame of the bedroom door.

Matthew snorts a laugh. “Right you are,” he mutters. “Ty, I think I saw them in your bedroom. Go get them on before Mom gets upset.”

Tyler and I roll our eyes at the same time, causing Matthew to laugh, and I retreat back into the bedroom. The door remains open and Matthew steps through a few moments later, closing it softy behind him. I’m in the closet, sorting through the different pieces of clothing and wondering how much longer I’ll be able to fit in any of this stuff. With Tyler, I didn’t really get much time to gain much weight before his birth and the memory of those long weeks at the hospital not knowing if we’d ever take our son home come rushing back. I’d been told a few times that the first pregnancy was alw
ays the most difficult, but they’re rarely
that
difficult and it was a concern that my next pregnancy might have similar results. Yet another reason Tom and I were so careful.

Of course thinking about that reminds me of the doctor’s appointment Matthew and I had two days ago. It was the first check-up on our baby and I’ve never been more nervous about anything. Considering what I’d been through with my injuries there was some concern about whether the baby had survived all that. But the moment the doctor found the image she was looking for and pointed it out for Matthew and me, we both knew we’d gotten incredibly lucky in that respect. We even heard the very faint, rapid heartbeat and I got to see Matthew’s face as he stared in wonder at the monitor—I’d forgotten how much I loved that expression on his face. Before we left, the doctor printed off several ultrasound images for us to take home. Then we got to have a wonderful conversation with Tyler about how he’d soon be a big brother, but for now, it was a secret. I don’t think I’ve ever been more amused by Matthew’s discomfort
thank I was when Tyler asked him later that evening where babies come from.

“What are you thinking about?” asks a soft voice from behind me.

I turn around and smile at Matthew. “Life,” I tell him, then turn around to pick my wardrobe for the day. “Are we telling anyone about the baby?”

He’s quiet for several moments, knowing I’m deflecting the original question he asked me. “That’s up to you, I suppose,” he says. “Claire and Danny know, of course. I know my mom would be thrilled, but I understand your reticence about telling anyone else.”

I covertly roll my eyes, thinking he doesn’t know the half of it. “We can tell your mom,” I say quietly. “If you want.”

Selecting a pair of skinny jeans, knowing it will be months or longer until I can wear them again and a loose fitting sweater since it’s on the chilly side outdoors, I begin to dress, trying to ignore Matthew’s eyes on me from the moment I remove the robe to the moment I pull on my socks. I turn to him, finding his gaze has gotten rather glossy. “Can I help you?” I ask in a bored tone I know won’t fool him.

He only smirks and pushes himself off the doorframe, stalking towards me and resting his hands on my hips. “There are several ways in which you can help me,” he says softly, pressing himself against me until I gasp and placing little kisses on my neck. “Unfortunately we don’t have time for any of them.”

“Tease,” I grumble when he moves away.

Throwing a grin at me over his shoulder he leaves the closet. “Oh, I meant to ask you,” he begins. His voice is muffled and I imagine he’s changing clothes himself. I practically sprint out of the closet before it’s too late to catch the show and nearly trip over my own feet to reach him. “Danny’s firm is allowing him use of some beach house in Cape Cod in a few weeks and he thought it might be a good if we all went together. You, me, Tyler, Claire, and the kids, I mean. And I think I promised to take you and Tyler somewhere when I got back, though this isn’t exactly what I had in mind...” He trails off, frowning as he searches the drawers of his dresser for a t-shirt. “What do you think?”

I think I’d much rather cancel our plans for the day, stay here, and take advantage of my half-naked boyfriend. And there’s a startling thought. Matthew and I haven’t actually discussed the status of our relationship, though I’m pretty sure he intends to keep me around for the long term; beyond that, I’m not sure how to define us. We’re no longer married, so I can’t refer to him as my husband, despite the strong urge I have to do so. Often. We haven’t even discussed the possibility of getting married again, so he’s not my fiancé. I suppose for now boyfriend will have to do.

Blinking my way back to reality, I realize Matthew is staring at me expectantly and that I’ve yet to answer his question. “Um, sure,” I blurt. “Cape Cod is good.”

He raises an eyebrow at me as though wondering whether I’m feeling well. “Okay, then,” he says quietly, nodding as he pulls on a blue tank top before reaching into his closet for a button-down shirt that matches it. “I’ll tell Danny to make the arrangements.”

That settled, I quickly make my escape before I’m tempted to postpone our departure further and head down to Tyler’s room to finish getting him ready.

-------------o-------------

An hour later, we’re pulling up the driveway and my anxiety is returning.

“You’re nervous.” The car is parked, the ignition is shut off, and Matthew has turned in his seat to look at me.

“Why would you think that?” I mutter, surprised at the amount of sarcasm in my tone.

He raises an eyebrow and smirks at me. “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he tells me soothingly, reaching over for my hand. “All the attention will be on me. You and Ty can hide out the whole time with Claire and Danny if you want.”

I consider his words for a moment. Despite this party being an annual fall event held my Matthew’s parents at their home, this year will be very different for no other reason than to celebrate Matthew being alive and able to attend. Expected to attend is family, family friends, work colleagues from both Matthew’s company and his father’s, and God only knows who else. It certainly isn’t the first time I’ve attended, but it’s been five years since the last time, the circumstances surprisingly similar, since that was held after Matthew was released from the hospital following the attack on his building. The problem now is that most people don’t even know I’m in the state again, let alone that Matthew and I are together again. I have no idea what people believe about why we broke up in the first place; though considering what I overheard Elizabeth and Holly telling Claire that night, I’m expecting a multitude of dark, suspicious looks.

But when it comes down to it, there are only a handful of opinions I care about and most of them know the truth. The only exception is Matthew’s mother and she doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. She’s treated me like I never left at all and that is incredibly refreshing and comforting.

When Matthew sighs, I look at him again, finding his eyes on his eyes on his parents’ front door where I can clearly see Matthew’s father stepping out onto the stairs, watching us. ”There’s Dad,” he says almost regretfully. “Time to go in.”

Swallowing down my sudden wave of nausea only caused in part by the pregnancy, I nod. This will be the first time I’ve interacted with Paul Young since that incredibly disastrous afternoon in Matthew’s office. Time hasn’t diminished my dislike or disgust with him. I can only imagine the things he’ll say about me when he finds out I’m pregnant.

Before I can even properly panic at the thought, Matthew is out of the car, lifting a hand in greeting towards his father and getting Tyler out of the backseat. As he does so, he shoots me an amused, pointed look as though silently asking if I plan on sitting in the car all afternoon.

Tempting...

I get out of the car anyway and relax slightly when I reach Matthew and he puts his arm around my shoulder as we walk up to meet his father at the door. Plastering a fake smile on my face, I don’t miss the look of disdain Mr. Young shoots me before summoning his own smile—his genuine—as he hugs his son and grandson. He nods curtly in greeting to me, causing Matthew to look between us, frowning. Apparently he’s forgotten the tension that has always been present between me and his father.

Mr. Young leads us inside, telling Matthew that Elizabeth, Holly, their husbands and kids, and Claire, Danny, and theirs arrived shortly before we did, but the other guests should be here soon. In the kitchen, Diane Young is at the island counter beside Claire as they arrange a vast array hor d'oeuvres on trays and plates that range from pigs in a blanket and cheese and meats to caviar and shrimp.

Looking at Diane, it’s easy to see where her daughters got their good looks. She’s Claire’s height and build, but with the blonde hair that graces the heads of Elizabeth and Holly. Her eyes are the exact color and shape as Matthew’s and are always shining with humor or mischief, depending on her mood. Though I’ve never seen it personally, those eyes apparently shoot fire when she’s angry and her sweet, kind disposition turns to that of a dragon. She is fiercely protective of her children and grandchildren, particularly Matthew, and while he vehemently denies it anytime the subject comes up, it’s common knowledge that he’s a mama’s boy.

“About time you three got here,” Claire grumbles in feigned annoyance. “Now I have something else to distract me from food preparation.”

Diane gives her a glare that’s half-hearted at best, wipes her hands on a towel, and walks around the counter to first pull me into a hug, kissing my cheek, then to greet Matthew and Tyler. Matthew lets Tyler slide to the floor to better return his mother’s embrace, and I see Claire at the counter smirking. She glances up at me and mouths
mama’s boy
. I bite my lips to hold back my laughter. “How are you feeling, Samantha?” Diane asks concernedly as she directs me to a bar stool at the island counter.

For a brief moment, I think she’s referring to the pregnancy, but then realize she’s talking about my recent hospital stay. “Much better,” I tell her honestly. “I should have the cast removed in a week or two, but everything else has mostly healed.”

“Well, you look great,” Claire tells me, looking back down at the fruit platter she’s working on. “I’d go so far as to say you’re glowing.”

Matthew and I both shoot her glares and she smirks, turning away to the fridge. Claire knows damn well we’re not ready to tell the rest of the family about the pregnancy and I swear she does these things just to irritate her brother. Judging by the way his jaw muscles are twitching, she’s succeeding.