Young Revelations (Young Series) (36 page)

“Stressing how?” I ask warily.

Claire shrugs. “She hasn’t seen you in weeks, she doesn’t know what to expect from today, the list goes on,” she says. “But you’ve got nothing to worry about with Mark, I promise you that.”

“He’s attracted to her,” I say bitterly. “I’ve seen how he salivates when he looks at her.”

“I’d hardly call that salivating,” Claire responds. “And who wouldn’t be attracted to her?”

I decide to ignore that. “She’s attracted to him,” I tell her quietly. “She’s told me herself.”

“Maybe,” Claire concedes. “But just because she’s attracted to him and he to her, it doesn’t mean she’s going to do anything about it. If Danny got insecure every time I see an attractive man, he’d never get anything done because he’d be curled up in a corner in the fetal position. Besides, Mark seems pretty much focused on Jessica and I don’t think he’s going to start problems with her by ogling Samantha.”

“Yeah, but how many of those men are you actually ‘friends’ with?” I reply, blatantly ignoring her last statement. The only one who should be ogling Samantha is me.

“I do have male friends,” Claire reminds me. “And yes, there are a couple I’ve always been attracted to, and while there might have been very brief moments in time when I thought about possibly being more than friends with them, at the end of the day, my love for my husband always won out over everything else. That’s what it’s like between Mark and Sam, and you need to trust that she’s making the right decisions for her, for Tyler, and for the future of your relationship.”

I accept the glass of wine she pours me. “I do trust her,” I say softly. “More than anybody else in my life.”

“Have you told her that?”

“I will,” I promise. “It’s one of the million things I need to say to her. And I plan on starting that list tonight.”

“Good,” she says firmly with a nod. We stand in silence for a few minutes sipping our wine and occasionally glancing out the backdoor where the snow is falling hard enough that I can barely see the end of the deck. I can’t imagine Samantha staying out there much longer. “Are you aware that she has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow?”

I turn back to Claire and nod. “It’s on my calendar,” I answer. Not that I need it on my calendar to remember; I’ve got all her check-up dates memorized.

“Are you going with her?”

“I’m not sure she’d want me there,” I reply sadly.

“You’re an idiot,” she counters. “Of course she wants you there. She’s been stressing about going alone, since you’ve been with her for all the others, including during her pregnancy with Tyler. I offered to go with her, but I know she’d prefer you.”

I nod broodingly. I want to be there for her tomorrow. I want to see our daughter and how much she’s grown. But I suppose that will be contingent on how the rest of today fairs; if my talk with Samantha is disastrous, I can’t imagine she’d want me around.

“How’s therapy going?” Claire asks, turning towards the oven to check on the turkey.

“Pretty well, I think,” I say with a sigh. “I’m coming to terms with issues I didn’t even know I had. Not just about Sam, but about Dad and Leo and everything else that’s wrong with my life.”

“Glad to hear it,” Claire says sincerely. “Honestly, I’m surprised you and I haven’t had the need for therapy about Dad before now.”

I snort a laugh. “No kidding.” I hesitate, knowing I should probably be asking Samantha about this next question, but if I’m right about what I suspect, it’ll only make things worse now. “I need you to be honest with me about something,” I begin slowly. Claire meets my gaze and nods suspiciously. “Did Dad come to the house while I was, for lack of a better descriptor, dead?”

She freezes and for the first time since I’ve been back, she doesn’t make a zombie joke. “Yes,” she says quietly.

“What happened while he was there?”

Sighing, Claire refills our wine glasses. “Matt, this is really something you need to talk to Samantha about.”

I shake my head. “Just tell me.”

She watches me for a few moments, sizing me up. “He basically told her she was freeloading by living in your house, despite what your will said. I don’t know details, but it upset her to the point that Leo called me that night asking me to come keep an eye on her. Leo also said Samantha handled it very well until he was out of the driveway. As far as I know, that was the end of it and a few days later you were back anyway, so the entire situation was pointless.”

“Fucking asshole,” I mutter, shaking my head. “What’s it going to take to please him, Claire? And when is he going to realize I’m a grown man and he has no control over my life anymore?”

“The only answer I have to both those questions is I don’t know,” she responds. “I think as long as Samantha is in your life it’s going to be like this.”

“Then he needs to understand I’ll choose her over him every single time,” I tell her. “Especially if this is how he’s going to treat her. She’s the mother of my children—his grandchildren—and he is the last thing in the world she needs to deal with, particularly while she’s pregnant.”

“I agree,” Claire says. We glance out the window as the kids run up to the deck looking like they’ve been burying each other in snow. Samantha follows, laughing and shaking her head.

When she enters the kitchen she finds me immediately and grins and blushes for some reason. She’s adorable when she does that. I realize I’m grinning at her like an idiot when I hear my sister’s snort of amusement and disgust. “I bribed them with hot chocolate to get out of the cold,” she explains, standing at the end of the counter where I’m leaning.

“Well done,” Claire says proudly. “Matt, make the kids hot chocolate.”

Samantha laughs at the incredulous expression on my face and of course I can’t remained annoyed when I get to see her laughing, even if it’s at me. “I’ll help,” she offers quietly.

Between the two of us, we have a tray of hot chocolate in mugs with marshmallows that we take to the table for the four kids. I’m very much enjoying our teamwork and it’s not until Samantha realizes Claire has slipped out of the room that she seems to get uncomfortable standing near me. She mutters something about her socks being wet and quickly scurries out of the room. Tyler’s eyes are following her moves and in the interest of not worrying him, I put a huge grin on my face and try to steal one of his marshmallows. He’s distracted and I’m relieved that I can still do something right…

––––-o––––-

As we prepare to set the table for dinner in the mid-afternoon, everyone seems to be getting along quite well. More than once, I’ve even seen Matthew talking to Mark, usually when he’s speaking with Jessica about something, but it’s progress and I’ll take whatever I can get. Though nobody currently in the house is much of a sports fan, we’ve got the television set to a football game, the kids are off playing somewhere, and I’m struggling to keep busy to lessen the amount of time I spend sitting in a chair staring at Matthew. Not that being in another room will deter me much; whenever I walk into the living room, my eyes automatically seek him out and more often than not, I find him looking right back at me. The people around us are acting as a buffer, which I know is frustrating for him; whenever I head into the kitchen or another part of the house, he tries to sneak in behind me, probably hoping to have our talk early. Either a child or one of the adults always seems to interrupt us, though; I’m starting to wonder if he thinks I’m doing this on purpose. For the most part I’m not; I want us to have this conversation probably as much as he does, but part of me is nervous about being alone with him right now. I’ve never felt that way about Matthew and I really don’t like it.

Currently, I’m pulling out the dinner rolls from the oven while Claire and Bonnie set the table. Last I saw, Matthew was on the floor playing some game with Tyler and Abby, and joking around with Mark about something. I wonder if things will remain like this after today and if this is a sign that I can remain friends with Mark without Matthew getting insecure about it. I’m not holding my breath, though.

“Need any help?”

I jump, then cry out when my hand slips away from one of the potholders I’m using to remove the hot tray from the oven. Practically throwing the tray onto the stove, I reflexively shake my burned hand rapidly, then bring it to my mouth.

“Shit,” Matthew mutters, closing the distance between us and forcing my hand from my mouth. “Sam, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Looking at my hand as he leads me to the sink to run it under cold water, I can see it’s already red and slightly blistered. “Matt, I’m fine,” I try to insist. “It’s just a burn.”’

He predictably ignores my objections and gingerly tends to my hand, looking concerned and apologetic. Mark and Claire both poke their heads in to see what I was yelling about, but Matthew dismisses them, even the doctor who suggests getting some burn cream for my hand before it gets too bad. When Claire delivers the aforementioned cream, Matthew shuts off the water and leads me over to the table. We sit down at the table, Matthew pulling his chair closer to me as he very carefully begins to apply the cream, his eyes intently focused on my injury. As the pain subsides, I’m not sure if it’s because of my close proximity to him or the cream, and I really don’t care.

When he finishes, he looks up at me and I know my eyes are rather glazed over as I examine him. He does the same with me and, eyes still locked on mine, brings my hand up to his lips, pressing them against my skin right beside the burn cream he just applied. “Better?” he whispers.

I nod. “Yes,” I whisper back. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Reluctantly it seems, he lowers my hand and rests it on my knee, then takes a deep breath to say something, but Claire enters the room to tell us she’s ready to bring out the food and the moment is ruined. Matthew shoots his sister a withering glare and I chuckle, causing him to turn back and wink at me. “Okay, let’s eat…”

We’ve got two tables set up—one for the children, one for the adults—and once we’ve got the kids settled with their plates, the rest of us can start filling our own. It doesn’t come as a surprise to me when Matthew takes the seat between Bonnie and me. Mark and Jessica are across from us, while Danny and Claire sit next to them. Dinner is delicious, though my daughter seems to balk at the idea of several of the side dishes. In the end I stick with turkey, bread, and mashed potatoes, and I notice Matthew has kept his plate a little further away from me than normal, possibly to avoid me getting sick at the smell. It’s the little things like this that make me love him. He doesn’t need me to explain why I feel the way I do about certain things; he just knows and he doesn’t call any more attention to it than what I might share.

As we eat, life feels normal for a change and I’m managing to push aside all the drama to enjoy it. Outside the snow is falling harder and I wonder if Claire will insist the guests stay the night. She’s only got two guestrooms, the ones Tyler and I are occupying, though Tyler could bunk with his cousins. And if Matthew stayed, how awkward would it be for us to be in the same house, but not share a room?

I block out that thought and almost wish I hadn’t when Jessica makes a comment about Mark and me having lunch together the other day. Wincing slightly, I dart a sideways glance at Matthew beside me who is eating his dinner as though he’s never been less surprised to hear something in his life. I thought he might at least have a tensed jaw or have a glare directed at me and/or Mark, but he continues as though he was hearing something of absolutely no consequence to him. I don’t know if that means he doesn’t care that Mark and I are spending time together alone, or if he realizes it’s not the issue he’s made it out to be in the past. I choose to believe the latter myself.

After dinner, before the turkey coma hits, we get the majority of the mess cleaned up and Claire and I very carefully move our store-bought pies into regular pie dishes to cover the fact that we forgot to grab the ingredients to make homemade ones and by the time we got to the store yesterday, everything was picked over. Snickering to herself as she stuffs the containers into the garbage, Claire wipes off her hands, grabs plates and forks, instructs me to get the whipped cream, and we head back into the living room.

Once again, Tyler is in Matthew’s lap even though his cousins have gone upstairs to play. And once again, the only available seat is beside Matthew. I take the seat on the couch and he turns his head towards me, a huge smile on his face. I’m not sure if the smile is for me or the way Tyler is snuggled against his chest, or both, but I feel myself smiling back.

––––-o––––-

When it’s time for the kids to go to bed, I follow Claire and the kids, all of whom insist they’re not tired, upstairs, but stop when Matthew calls me. He’s lingering at the bottom of the stairs looking uncertain.

“Would you mind terribly if I tucked Tyler in?” he asks.

I smile. “Of course not,” I say softly, coming back down. “He likes your stories better anyway.”

Matthew grins. “Well, I do tell one hell of a story…”

Rolling my eyes at his chuckling, I return to the living room and sit with Jessica and Bonnie while Mark and Danny watch some science fiction show.

“You know, I’ve wanted to meet you for a while,” Jessica tells me.

“Oh?” I say in surprise. “Why’s that?”

She shrugs and reaches for her wine glass. “You were a bit of a legend at work,” she says. “I worked for Matt before he met you and the people there with me still remember the complete change in personality he went through when he met you. He’s never really been an overbearing boss, but he was obviously happier… Oh and the day your son was born…” Jessica grins. “I don’t think he knew whether to be happy or not. I mean, I’m sure he was happy, but under the circumstances, I think it was a little bittersweet for him. Anyway, he showed up the next day in time for lunch and he’d arranged for this huge five-star four course meal to be delivered for everyone, then gave us all a four-day weekend.”