Young Revelations (Young Series) (19 page)

I’ve just found out all the charges against me have been dropped, and now, I’m on my way home to you. I cannot wait to see you again, to hold you and kiss you, and show you how much you mean to me. This will truly be a new beginning for us, Samantha, and I can’t wait for that opportunity.

You’ve had my heart since the second I laid eyes on you and that will never change. I love you. I will see you soon,

Matthew

––––-o––––-

I’m only faintly aware that I’m crying. What I’m most aware of is the heartache and confusion his letter has caused me. He’s opened up to me in a way he’s never done before and I don’t think I can tell him what it means to me. Granted it took
this
to get him to open up, but better late than never…

I go back to the part about his hope that Claire has talked to me and “told me the truth.” What truth? Claire hasn’t said anything about Matthew in days. She did mention over the phone we needed to discuss something, but she preferred to do it in person. Is that what he’s referring to?

As I’m carefully folding the letter again and returning it to its envelope, the door to my room opens. I stare wide eyed at it, uncertain who I’m expecting to see—Matthew, Mark, doctors, nurses. But when Matthew enters, my breath catches in my throat. I’ve never seen him look so defeated. His gaze finds mine almost immediately, and he holds it. I try to make out the expression in his eyes, but I come up with nothing.

When he speaks, his voice is so raw that I feel my heart breaking all over again. “Hello, Samantha.”

All things considered, I think I’m handing this situation pretty well. Rather than making a huge scene at the hospital that could only lead to my arrest, I decided to take a walk. As I walked, I tried to think about the possible reasons for some asshole to have his hands all over my fiancée and why my fiancée would allow that.

I got nothing.

I could call any number of people right now. Claire to find out if she knows what the fuck is going on. Leo to find out the identity of the asshole with Samantha. A couple other people that could solve this problem within the day and there will be no trace left of him. I could make other phone calls to have people at my house moving Samantha’s things elsewhere, then my lawyer to work out visitation to see my children. This last one is definitely not an option, though; at least not right now. What I need to do is go back to the hospital and have a very calm discussion with Samantha. The problem is that if the asshole is still there, I might end up in jail anyway. But I can’t just let this go without some sort of attempt to discover the truth. I need to hear her say the words, whatever those words might be. Then again, she didn’t give me the chance to give my side of the story with that fucking video; why should she get that opportunity?

The answer is, of course, simple. Because she’s everything to me and I cannot let her go without a fight. If there’s someone else in her life, I have to confront that situation. How miserable have I been over the last several days thinking I had lost her completely?

By now, I’m sure she’s seen the flowers and read the letter I left for her. She’s smart enough to realize I’m back and part of me expected to hear from her somehow—a phone call or a text message—but there’s only been silence. That could mean any number of things. It could be guilt confirmed by silence. It could be she just has no idea what to say. What I know is that I feel like a world-class jackass for pouring my fucking heart out to a woman only to find her asleep with somebody else in her hospital room. I suppose it’s a good thing they were both fully dressed; I’m not sure I would have had control over my actions otherwise. That’s only a slight comfort whenever I think about the hand of another man resting protectively above my growing baby.

It takes me nearly ten minutes to realize I’m standing just outside the hospital entrance again. Taking a minute to think about whether I’m ready for this, I breathe deeply and let it out slowly, then walk inside, blindly following the path to Samantha. I nearly change my mind two dozen times until I’m outside her door. Running my hands through my hair, I push open the door slowly, silently praying I don’t see the same thing I saw just over an hour ago. And I don’t. Instead I find Samantha with tears streaming down her face very carefully refolding my letter and returning it to the envelope. I take a couple steps inside the room and her gaze snaps up to meet mine. I watch her suck in a sharp breath and her eyes widen at the sight of me. For a few moments, we just stare at one another and I try to commit everything about her to memory in case this goes completely pear-shaped. Clearly she’s in shock and unable to say anything, which means I’ll have to be the one to break the silence.

“Hello, Samantha,” I say hoarsely, the words barely making it out of my mouth before my jaw tenses and I have to bite back my emotion.

“Hi,” she whispers, her eyes wide. “When did you get back?”

“Couple hours ago.”

She nods, her brow furrowing. “How’d it go?”

I sigh. Is this really what we’re going to discuss right now? “I’ve been cleared of all charges,” I say evenly. “They found me completely not at fault, despite my suspicions that something was wrong. Within the next few months, the plane crash will be nothing more than a very bad memory.”

Relief is palpable on her face and I’m slightly relieved she still cares enough to
be
relieved. “Good,” she says.

Nodding, I take a couple more steps into the room. “Nobody knew I was coming home,” I tell her. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, I’m certainly surprised,” she says wryly.

I snort a humorless laugh. “Not as surprised as I am,” I shoot back. She flinches. Part of me is satisfied by that reaction. “I’ve spent the last couple hours just wandering around town, trying to wrap my head around what I saw when I came in here and trying to figure out what I should do about it. I still haven’t decided.” I stop the end of her bed, wrapping my fingers around the railing at her feet. “I wanted to tear that guy apart, Samantha. Not for being in here with you or even falling asleep beside you. I wanted to tear him apart because I’ve been away from you for so long and the entire time I was gone, I would have given anything to be able to see you grow with our child. I wanted to tear him apart because he looked so at home beside you, like he belongs with you.” Faintly, I realize she’s crying and that hurts almost as much as what I saw earlier; I don’t stop. “But while I was walking, the only decision I was able to make is that I honestly don’t give a shit who he is or why he was here. There is only one thing I need to know from you.” She’s watching me expectantly, nervously, and I take a few moments to steel up my own nerves, terrified of what I’m about to ask her and what her answer might be. I try to keep my voice from cracking when I speak next, but I know I fail. “Samantha, are you still in love with me?”

Her eyes widen and her jaw falls open slightly as she processes what I’ve asked her. Then her expression hardens and my breath stalls briefly. “That question goes both ways, Matt,” she responds coldly. “Because I’ve been wondering the same thing about you for much longer than a couple hours. You may not care who
he
is, but I know damn well who
she
was, and I saw a hell of a lot more than some handholding.”

My broken heart briefly takes a backseat to confusion. I don’t need to ask to what she’s referring, but the video shouldn’t even come to play if she’s spoken to Claire and Claire told her everything. Realization sets in. “Shit,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Claire never talked to you.”

“Talked to me about what?” she asks in exasperation. “You said in your letter you hope she’s told me the truth. I have no idea what that means. I haven’t seen Claire in days; the kids have been sick and aside from spending her free time with them, she hasn’t wanted to risk bringing the stomach flu to me while I’m here. She did mention she wanted to talk to me about something, but didn’t want to do it over the phone.”

Put like that, I’m almost rethinking my decision to strangle my sister. We probably could have saved ourselves a lot of heartache. “Sam, the video is fake,” I say calmly. “Yes, it was Natalie and me, but that happened years ago. Someone went through all the trouble to edit a video to make it seem recent, but they missed changing some of the details. I did a remodel of my office a couple years ago, after Natalie and I broke up, and I replaced most of the furniture. Including that couch. I never cheated on you.”

Neither of us seems to know what else to say right now. Or rather, I know what I want to say to her, but I need her to at least acknowledge my words before I do anything. The last thing I want right now is for her to push me even further away. The longer the minutes drag on without her speaking or her expression changing, the more I wonder if this is going to be it for us. She could so easily say she doesn’t believe me. Or that it doesn’t matter that the video was faked, because the seed of doubt has had so long to grow. Hell, she hasn’t even given me an answer on whether she’s still in love with me. For all I know, the answer is no and she’ll follow that up by saying she’s in love with the asshole who’d been with her this morning.

I want to explain more, tell her that I’ve talked to Danny and Claire, and that they were supposed to talk to her, but obviously circumstances haven’t allowed that. I’m about ten seconds from dropping to my knees and begging her to believe me when she finally takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I want to believe you,” she whispers unevenly. “More than anything, Matthew, I want to believe you would never do that to me—”

Then for the love of God, believe it!
I want to shout this at her, but I bite my tongue.

“And I don’t want to keep beating a dead horse, but seeing you with Natalie at that party, not to mention the things she said to me when she showed up here…” She shakes her head uncertainly. “I don’t know what to think right now, Matt. I really don’t.”

We’ll be addressing Natalie’s visit shortly, but right now that is the last thing to deal with. “Then you can tell me whether or not you still love me, since you so neatly sidestepped the question before. If you don’t love me and don’t see any sort of future with me, then I will walk away from you right now, but I need to know the truth.”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head to herself so slightly I nearly miss it. “Matthew, that is by far the stupidest question you have ever asked me,” she says quietly. “Of course I love you. Would it be easier if I didn’t? Probably. Is it something I can change? Not a chance. And I don’t want that to change.”

If I wasn’t gripping the bed rail as tightly as I am, there is no doubt in my mind that the relief I feel would knock me off my feet. “I don’t want that to change either,” I whisper. “And in case there is any doubt in your mind, I love you too.”

Her head falls back onto the pillow momentarily and I see a few tears fall from her eyes. I force my feet to move so that I’m standing beside her bed and sit down in the same chair previously occupied by the mystery man. “So now that we’ve got that settled,” I begin, “are you leaving me?”

“Do you want me to?”

Her question comes so quickly after mine that I know she’s been thinking about it. “No,” I respond. “I never want you to leave.”

She only nods in response. “Then I’m not going anywhere.”

I feel a smile grow on my face and I try to stop it, knowing we’re only partway through everything we need to discuss. “I’m glad to hear it,” I murmur. She rolls onto her side, curling up with one hand under her head and the other resting on the bed. Locking my gaze with hers and searching for any sign she doesn’t want this, I reach out to touch her hand. I’ve never been so relieved to feel that little jolt of electricity that passes between us whenever we touch. It’s giving me hope that we can fix this. Though I might be pressing my luck, I can’t resist the urge to lift her hand to my mouth and kiss her fingers. I don’t miss the little gasp she emits at the contact. “How are you feeling?”

She looks around us briefly as though she’s forgotten we’re in a hospital room. “Better,” she says quietly. “I should be released tomorrow if all my tests come back clear today.”

“That’s some of the best news I’ve gotten in weeks,” I tell her honestly, my free hand reaching out to rest against her belly. “And our daughter?”

She smiles for the first time since I entered the room and it’s the most incredible sight in the world. “She’s perfect,” she tells me. “They’re putting me on medication for the high blood pressure, but of course the biggest thing is keeping down my stress level.” The pointed look she gives me makes me grin sadly.

“Speaking of stress,” I say reluctantly, “what did Natalie say to you?”

What little happiness she might have been feeling is gone with the blink of an eye and I know she doesn’t want to discuss this. “Matt, I’d rather not,” she begins.

“I need to know what happened,” I urge her gently. “I’m going to take care of all of this, but I need to know what she said.”

Resignedly, she  nods. “She basically told me that the two of you have had a relationship this whole time and that whenever you were at work and on the phone with me, she was with you,” she says tonelessly. “And of course the only reason we’re getting married is because of your sense of duty to the baby.”

I’m trying so hard not to squeeze her hand too much, but I am beyond furious. I honestly do not understand what could have possessed Natalie to behave like this. Jealousy? Some sense of protectiveness because Samantha hurt me by leaving me once before? But why would she lie like this or harass Samantha while Samantha is in the hospital of all places?

“I’m so sorry,” I say hoarsely to Samantha. “None of that is true. I’ve barely seen her this year—that day you saw her coming out of my office was the first time in months. And I understand why it upset you; I’d be pissed too. I’m marrying you because I can’t stand the thought of living without you. It’s nothing to do with any sense of duty. It’s because I love you more than anything in my life and I want to spend the rest of my life beside you. Samantha, I promise you, I will get to the bottom of all of this and there will be repercussions for those involved. I will not let anybody hurt you and that includes me. As far as I’m concerned, there is no option of you and me splitting up. Ever. I told you in my letter that I know what it is to live without you and that is not something I ever want to experience again. I took you for granted back then and I didn’t even realize it until you were gone, when it was too late to actually do anything about it. And I’m sorry for that too. I want us to go back to being so in love that we can’t see straight. I want us to see our children grow up happy and healthy. Together.”

She nods faintly. “I want that too,” she whispers, taking a deep breath. “You told me in your letter that you don’t think we actually know each other anymore. Is that really how you feel?”

“Yes,” I say promptly. “We’re treating each other like we’re the exact same people we were five years ago, and those people don’t exist anymore. We’re both stronger, we’re both more cynical, we’re both more stubborn than we ever were back then.”