Young Revelations (Young Series) (16 page)

“I know,” I say. “I have no excuse. Claire. I honestly didn’t believe there would be an issue. I didn’t know Samantha even
knew
about Natalie—not that it makes a difference. Natalie and I truly are only friends and business associates now, but I will end every aspect of our relationship if it makes Samantha uncomfortable in any way. I love her, Claire, and I will do whatever it takes to make her believe me.”

“Okay.”

I blink a few times, wondering if that’s her only response to what I just said. “Okay?” I repeat tentatively. “What do you mean, okay?”

“I mean, okay,” she says simply. “I believe you. And I’ll see what I can do to convince Samantha.”

I laugh shortly in relief and gratitude. “You do?” I check.

“Yeah,” she says with a sigh. “I’ve always known Samantha means a lot to you, and I never wanted to believe you’d be capable of something like that.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, feelingly, as a huge weight is lifted from my shoulders. “How’s Samantha?”

“Doing better,” Claire says gently. “And the baby is perfectly healthy, thankfully. She’ll probably have to stay in the hospital a few more days until everything settles. It seems whenever she starts evening out, some other factor pops up.”

I’m on high alert. “What factor?” I ask sharply. “Did something happen?”

“You could say that,” Cl
aire replies wearily. “She woke up in the middle of the night, and Natalie was in her room.”

Jumping to my feet, I am beyond livid. “What!” I demand loudly. Vaguely, I see Marcus at the end of the hallway looking at me, startled. “What the
fuck
was she doing there?”

“Oddly enough, that was my response as well,” she responds dully. “Sam wouldn’t tell me what she said to her, but I do know she raised enough hell that the doctors and nurses ran in, and Natalie won’t be returning.”

I cannot imagine why Natalie would visit Samantha in the hospital. They’ve never met, they’re not friends. And in the middle of the night… I suddenly wonder where her security detail had been while this was going on. It seems I’m going to have to fire another round of employees. “But Samantha is okay?” I check desperately.

“She’s fine,” Claire assures me. “If there were any adverse affects, they were very brief and very minor. When I showed up the next morning, I had no idea anything had even happened…” I don’t miss her words trailing off and I know there’s more.

“What else aren’t you telling me?”

Claire sighs deeply. “Nothing,” she says quietly. I know damn well she’s lying to me. “Just hurry the fuck up doing whatever you need to do in Germany, and get back here, Matthew. All I’m going to say is if you’re not back soon, you might lose her.”

Lose her? What the fuck does that mean? “I’d really appreciate it if you could expand on that, Claire,” I say, my patience straining. “What’s going on with Samantha?”

“Just fix it, Matt,” Claire says. “Look, it’s late, and I really need to get some sleep. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Despite demanding more information, Claire doesn’t give me anything more before hanging up. “Fuck,” I hiss, shutting off my phone in time for Marcus to reach me. “I don’t care what it takes; I want this shit dealt with. I need to get home to my family. If they want money, it’s theirs. I can’t stay here anymore.”

With only that to go on, Marcus nods. “Okay,” he tells me. “I’ll take care of it.”

––––-o––––-

In the days following my late night visit from Natalie, I’m finding myself becoming closer with Dr. Mark Reilly. Neither of us has mentioned that night or falling asleep holding hands, or even Claire walking in the next morning. I tho
ught the next time I saw him would be very awkward, and we’d both say it was a mistake that should never be repeated, and maintain only a doctor/patient relationship and nothing more. But when I next saw him, he had a smile on his face I know he doesn’t wear in front of his other patients, and he seemed anything but awkward. I took cues from him, and though I knew I should have kept him at arm’s length, I found myself looking forward to his rounds and his lunch breaks and the hour or so after his shift ended.

Every time he l
eaves, though, I feel guilty, especially when I glance down at the ring on my left hand. Having not spoken to Matthew once since the day he left, I have no idea what, if anything, might be salvaged of our relationship. And then there are the moments when I wonder
if,
should I find something salvageable, would I want to save it? I do love Matthew and I probably always will, but no matter what we do, something always comes between us, whether it’s threats against our family or an ex-girlfriend. True, it took three years for us to split up last time; maybe this time the time has just come sooner. Knowing he’s cheated on me only solidifies these thoughts. I’ve known people whose significant other had cheated. Some of them ended things the moment they found out; some of them stuck around and tried to work through the problems. I always wondered on which side I might land if that were to happen to me. I always believed myself to be strong enough that I wouldn’t have to rely on anyone else for my happiness. It’s not difficult to come to the conclusion that all changed when I met Matthew. But that was when I never believed he was capable of hurting me like this.

If I end things with Matthew,
then what happens? Do I start seeing Mark only to find out whatever might be between us is fleeting? That would leave me worse off than before—a single mother with two young children. Yeah, that’s a great idea…

Claire’s no help. If I didn’t know any better, she’s encouraging interaction between Mark and me. Of course, when I ask her about it, she denies any such thing, but any time Mark is in the room, she talks me up as though she’s trying
play matchmaker. Mark’s noticed, I’m sure; his darting glances at me are enough to know that. I really think that if I wasn’t engaged to her brother, she’d be encouraging me to see him in a more casual, intimate setting.

I haven’t actually seen Claire for a couple
of days now. The twins came down with some sort of cold and she’s had to stay home with them. The morning she called to tell me she wouldn’t be visiting also happened to be the morning Mark didn’t come to check on me. I’d assumed it was just his day off and I inwardly slapped myself for being so disappointed, but around lunchtime, the doctor taking over his rounds mentioned him to one of the nurses. With a couple questions, I found out he’s handed my care off to one of his colleagues. It’s ridiculous to feel this way, but I’m hurt that not only did he pretty much dump me, he didn’t even have the decency to duck his head in and tell me myself.

By dinnertime, I’m feeling pretty miserable despite Bonnie popping in to check on me. She isn’t aware of Matthew’s infidelity, and I don’t bring her further into the loop. In fact, almost the moment she enters my room, I
can tell something is seriously wrong with her. Matthew and I both suspected she was downplaying her illness that was taking her away from the bookstore, and having not seen her in nearly a week, I realize we were right. Of course she still won’t tell me what’s wrong. She doesn’t want to worry me. She quickly changes the subject to Tyler, and the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday and wedding plans. I don’t tell her that there might not be a wedding. I don’t want to worry her either.

After she’s left, I’m only alone for about ten minutes before my door opens again, and I can barely hide my shock to find Mark entering, his trademark smile on his face, a large brown bag in one hand, and a drink tray with styrofoam cups that I suspect contain milkshakes. “Hi,” he says quietly. “Have you eaten?”

I shake my head dumbly as he approaches. Didn’t he dump me as his patient? Has he come to break me even further? And why am I reacting like this?

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re no longer my patient,” he begins, arranging
the milkshakes and containers of food on a table before walking over to me. To my surprise, he holds out his hand to me. To my further surprise, I see my hand take his. As his fingers close around mine, I feel a shiver shoot through my body that stalls my breath momentarily. My eyes dart up in time to see him swallow hard and his eyes darken. He carefully leads me across the room to the table where our dinner is arranged, and helps me sit. I’m suddenly very pleased Claire brought me a bag of my pajamas so I’m not left wearing a hospital gown. Mark sits down across from me, and for a moment, we just look at each other while he seems to gather his words.

“I’d planned on coming by this morning,” he says softly, clasping his hands on top of the table, “before you saw Dr. Marsh so I could explain properly, but unfortunately, there was an emergency that kept me busy most of the day.”

“Oh,” I say lamely. His expression can only be described as deeply apologetic and I truly don’t know what to say in response. “So why did you hand me off to another doctor?”

Sighing, he leans back in his chair and just watches me for a moment. “Because I decided being your doctor would be a conflict of interest.”

Oh shit. I want to sink into the floor and disappear, because part of me expected that to be his reason and I don’t need to think too hard to figure out the rest. “And why is that?” I hear myself asking.

He rolls his eyes slightly, smiling. “You know why,” he chides gently. “I’ve been a doctor for nearly ten years, Samantha, and I’ve never had a patient that has caught my attention the way you have, nor have I let a patient get into my head the way you have. You know as well as I do that there is a connection of some sort between us, whether it be platonic or…” He trails off, shaking his head and shrugging. “Or something more. Considering what I know about you, it would not be wise for me to remain your doctor. I don’t want to put you in a difficult position, especially knowing your current condition medically, so please tell me if I’m crossing a line you’re uncomfortable with, and this will be the last you see of me.”

I should tell him he’s crossing a line. I should remind him I’m engaged, and carrying another man’s child. I should do a lot of things right now, but I don’t. “I’m not uncomfortable,” I say quietly. “I’ve really appreciated you sitting with me. I’m sure you could probably find a hundred things more important you could have been doing—”

“No, I couldn’t,” he interrupts softly. “I probably could have resisted the desire to spend time with you, if it hadn’t been for your midnight intruder. Even then, I was trying to think of ways to keep away from you. I very nearly called Claire that night even though you asked me not to, because I knew you shouldn’t be left alone. But I don’t regret staying with you and getting to know you. And in the short couple of days since, I’ve looked forward to seeing you more than what was probably wise. The conflict of interest came into play when I realized my desire to spend time with you had nothing to do with my profession, and everything to do with you personally. I suppose
I could have ignored the evening I spent here with you, and gone on keeping our relationship professional, and I did try. But whenever I walked in here, those thoughts were wiped clean from my mind. And as I said, I don’t want to put you in an undesirable position, but I do care about you, Samantha. I understand completely you’re in a relationship right now and, from what I’ve heard, I don’t think that will change any time soon, despite your current troubles with your fiancé. I would never interfere with that, especially with children involved. So I have a proposition for you.”

A proposition? My mind runs through dozens of possibilities in the time span of seconds, and none of them involve anything remotely platonic between Mark and me. As I go through each possibility, I find myself oddly tempted to several of them. “And what might that be?” I ask nervously.

He grins in a rather comforting manner. “Friendship, Samantha,” he tells me gently. “Everyone needs friends, right? I think I would very much enjoy being your friend.”

F
riends. Somehow it feels like settling on something when there’s no other choice. Which I suppose is true; right now it’s not an option for us to be more than friends, and I think down the road I might regret turning down friendship with Mark. I don’t have a lot of friends. I’ve got Claire and Bonnie, but I met them through Matthew, and I never bothered to meet people on my own. I think about our engagement party and Matthew’s insistence that Natalie was just a friend, and how I was willing to let bygones be bygones until I saw the video. If he can have friends, so can I. And if things don’t work out with Matthew, at least I’ll have someone to talk to who won’t be on his side. I swallow against the nausea at the very thought of that, and push it aside, looking up to meet Mark’s expectant gaze. I stick my hand out across the table. “Friends,” I say quietly, smiling.

He beams at me, eagerly taking my hand and shaking it briefly. I try to ignore that he holds onto it a little longer than what is generally considered friendly. With that settled, we start in on the dinner Mark brought with him, chatting easily and laughing. Every so often, I think of Matthew and what he’s doing, where he is, when he’ll be home, but I push that thought aside as well. I’ll deal with that when the time comes.

After dinner, the doctor in Mark comes out and insists I get back into my bed. Again, he helps me, even though I’m certain I can walk the three feet to the bed. He settles in the chair beside me, and we find a movie to watch on television. At some point one of us takes hold of the other’s hand, neither of us calling attention to it. When I start feeling my dinner unsettle, Mark scoots his chair a little closer to my bed, gently rubbing circles over my stomach, and my nausea abates. As I fall asleep towards the end of the movie, I look over and find Mark is fast asleep as well, one hand resting on my baby bump, the other still holding my hand, and I smile as my eyes drift closed, a feeling of safety and comfort washing over me.