Young Revelations (Young Series) (47 page)

She raises an eyebrow at me. “What family, Matt? My nephew? The boy is a doctor and his schedule is erratic at the best of times. He’s got no time to run a store and give it the attention it needs. Besides, you and Samantha and Tyler are the closest thing I have to real family. I only met Mark last year and I don’t really know him enough to trust that he’d take care of something so important to me.”

I swallow hard. “You’re family for us too, you know,” I remind her. She gives me a smile. “And I think Sam would absolutely
love
running a bookstore and I know she’d appreciate you thinking of her.”

“When I brought her into the bookstore, this was my intention,” she admits. “But I wanted to see how she handled things, even though I knew she’d be perfect.”

“Yeah, she would be perfect,” I agree, smiling fondly. The first time I ever took her to Bonnie’s bookstore, her eyes lit up and I think she would have been perfectly content to spend all her free time there. Luckily she liked me marginally better than the store, so I didn’t lose her to the books.

She smiles. “Glad you agree,” she says quietly, patting the hand that holds hers. “Like I said, I’m sorry for putting a damper on your day, but I thought it would be best to have this conversation away from Samantha. You decide what to tell her; I’m certainly not going to urge you to hide things from her.”

“Not that I could hide anything from her at this point,” I say wryly. “That woman knows me better than anyone.”

“And that’s the way it should be,” she replies briskly, standing and grabbing her handbag. I stand beside her. “I’ve taken up enough of your time today, I think. I should get back to the store anyway.”

I walk her to the door, still trying to come to terms with the idea that she’s dying slowly and probably very painfully. Not that she would ever let on that she’s hurting. “Look, if there is anything Samantha and I can do,” I say quietly. “Please let us know.”

Giving me a small smile, she reaches out to squeeze my upper arm. “You can do one thing for me,” she says. “Take care of your family, Matt. Don’t lose Samantha again and keep that boy of yours—and your girl when she arrives—safe and happy. Focus on them, don’t spend so much time in this damn building, and don’t age before your time.”

I smile. “Sounds like more than one thing,” I respond jokingly. “But I will do all of that.”

“You’re a good man, Matthew. You’ve got a huge heart and a great head on your shoulders. Don’t lose sight of that.”

I swallow hard, unable to think of anything to say to that, and open the door for her. “Drive safe,” I tell her hoarsely.

“I will,” she says, then her brow furrows slightly. “Oh, and tell your dad I hope he feels better.”

My brow furrows. “What?” I ask cluelessly.

Bonnie pales a little more at the expression on my face and her eyes widen. “Nothing,” she says quickly. “I saw him at a grocery store a few days ago and he seemed to be feeling a little off, that’s all. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

I stare after her as she quickly leaves my office. There are several things wrong with the last bit of discussion we’ve had this afternoon, aside from Bonnie and my father shopping at the same grocery store. I haven’t even spoken with my father in weeks, not since I called to tell my parents about Tyler’s kidnapping and Leo’s death. During that conversation, I was, admittedly, distracted by several different things, not least of all having just said goodbye to Samantha and Tyler for what I believed to be the last time, but I’d like to think I would have heard anything in my father’s voice indicating he was ill. Then again, if Bonnie’s on the spot fabrication was accurate, this is a recent thing…

I try to return to my work, but my visit from Bonnie sits at the very forefront of my mind and all I can concentrate on are her words about focusing on my family. It’s common knowledge that I could easily lose myself in my work—particularly when I’m stressed—and I won’t even look at a clock until close to midnight. Now, though, all I want is to be at home, if for no other reason than to confirm that not everything in my life has changed. I might be losing Bonnie, but I’ve still got Samantha and Tyler and I’ll soon have my daughter Olivia. And while I have no intention of telling Samantha about Bonnie’s failing health until she’s at a more stable point of her pregnancy, I know she’ll realize something is wrong and will do whatever she can to comfort me.

Really, that’s all I need in my life. The rest is just details.

––––o––––-

With just over a week until our wedding day, I’m starting to feel rather anxious. I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to schedule such a stressful event during the time of my pregnancy when I need to remain stress-free. So far, though, I feel fine. I think that has a lot to do with the blood pressure meds and the sedative Mark prescribed for me the afternoon Tyler was kidnapped. Whenever I start feeling my blood pressure rising, I take half of one of those and within half an hour, I’m already feeling better and can continue whatever was stressing me out in the first place. It certainly doesn’t hurt that I’ve got both my little sister and Claire to help take away some of the more stressful tasks; between the two of them, more often than not, I’m sent upstairs for a nap while they sort out whatever needs sorting.

Matthew has, of course, been a huge help as well. I am noticing, however, that he seems to be withdrawing into himself a little more often than what I’m used to. Last week, he came home from work and hardly said two words to anybody and spent most of the evening staring sadly into space. When I finally asked him what was wrong, all he told me was that it isn’t his news to share and that it doesn’t directly affect my or Tyler’s safety. He seemed surprised when I just accepted his reasoning for keeping things from me. It’s one thing for him to keep something a secret when he’s just doing it because he thinks it’s best for me to not know; I’d never be angry at him for keeping someone else’s secret. Whatever it is, though, it’s affecting him deeply and I have half a mind to sit him down and ask him to just tell me so I can help him cope.

Aside from that, things couldn’t be better. A couple nights ago, we spent an evening decorating the house for Christmas. Matthew went all out for a giant tree that just barely fits beneath the ceiling. Along with all the decorations the two of us acquired during our marriage—when I discovered he’d kept that box, my pregnancy hormones kicked in full force and I burst into tears—we made popcorn strings and between Tyler and Matthew, we barely had enough popcorn to actually do any decorating since they spent more time eating it than anything else. Tyler, the little dictator, had a blast sitting on the couch while Matthew, Lily, and I took directions from him about where to put baubles and garland and light strings. It took us a while to realize what he was doing, but once we did, we had to take a break for an impromptu tickle Tyler session. We took several pictures of the decorating process and my absolute favorite is the one in which Tyler is sitting on Matthew’s shoulders  with a star in one hand and his little tongue poking out of his mouth as he tries to reach the tip of the tree. Afterwards, we made hot chocolate and lounged in the living room with a lit fire and just stared at the tree. It was a perfect night.

This
evening we’re having our a joint session with Matthew’s therapist Dr. Morris. We agreed on seeing her together after the wedding, but Matthew thought it might help us both to relax a little if we did it sooner. I have no idea what to expect. I’ve never seen a therapist in my life. My father’s opinion of therapy was that it’s for the rich folk who don’t know how to handle their own problems. He also believed therapists brainwashed their patients into believing there is something wrong with them so the pharmaceutical companies could sell more of their drugs. It was all a huge conspiracy to him and it amused me to no end to hear him going on and on about it. I always thought that was part of the reason he died when he did—he always refused medical attention unless my siblings or I tricked him into seeing a doctor. Either way, I didn’t inherit his suspicion of doctors, but therapists always seemed a bit sketchy to me.

I think the
only reason I’m going along with this with no complaint is because Matthew seems to trust her implicitly. And since I trust Matthew implicitly… Well, you can see where this is going.

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” Matthew tells me quietly as we step into an elevator. “You don’t have to discuss anything you’re uncomfortable discussing and if you want to leave, we’ll leave.”

I nod slightly and he presses a kiss to the side of my head. “You are probably the only person in the world I would do this for, you know,” I grumble to him.

He chuckles. “And I appreciate it more than you know,” he responds. “I want you involved with this, Samantha. I want you to know me better than I know myself. For the most part, you already do, but Dr. Morris has a knack for getting me to think about things in a completely different way. I just want you to see that.”

“I know,” I respond, looking up at him with a small smile. “And it means a lot that you want to involve me in this. Though my father would tell you seeing a therapist means you’re certifiably crazy.”

Huffing a laugh, Matthew grins at me. “Well, he wouldn’t be wrong,” he says wryly. “But even he’d admit you’re probably the main cause of that craziness.”

“I should be insulted by that,” I say matter-of-factly. “But I think the making the other crazy thing goes both ways.”

He only smiles at me when the elevator doors open and we head into the office where we only have to wait a few minutes before Dr. Morris is ready for us. And really, that might have been a few minutes too long, since I spent the whole time wanting to gouge out the eyes of the receptionist who did nothing more than to stare at my fiancé, and I’m pretty sure she was drooling. I think Matthew made it a point to stand between me and her desk to keep me from her, which tells me he’s noticed her ogling. Normally I’m not a terribly jealous person and I think I’ll blame the pregnancy hormones for this. Though if I see her staring at him like that again, I won’t be responsible for my actions.

I look over at my fiancé when he starts chuckling. “What?” I ask as he closes the door.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” he murmurs, then turns towards the woman crossing the room towards us. “Dr. Morris, this is my fiancée, Samantha. Sam, this is Dr. Morris.”

I think part of me expected a younger, supermodel to be posing as Matthew’s therapist, so I’m a little surprised to find Dr. Morris is more of a grandmotherly type. Matthew also told me he’s terrified of her, but she seems perfectly normal and nice to me. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Samantha,” she says, smiling, reaching out to shake my hand. “Matthew has told me so much about you.”

“Oh,” I say in surprise, glancing over to find the man himself smiling at me in reassurance. “Did he?”

Dr. Morris chuckles softly, gesturing for us to take a seat on the couch while she sits across from us. “Indeed he has,” she says. “All good, I assure you.”

Matthew and I settle on the couch, our fingers still entwined. The next few minutes are a little uncomfortable, mostly because the doctor and Matthew are both watching me expectantly, and I have no idea what they’re waiting on. Finally, Dr. Morris smiles and reaches for her notepad. “I understand the two of you are quickly approaching your wedding date,” she says. “Very exciting.”

I smile, glancing at Matthew. “Yes, it is,” I say quietly.

“Are you nervous?”

I hesitate for a moment. “A little,” I respond.

Dr. Morris scrutinizes me closely until I shuffle a little uncomfortably. “One of the first things Matthew and I discussed when he first started seeing me was what it had been that drew him to you in the first place and as I recall, it nearly took up the entire session,” she says, smiling. “It was a good ice breaker and gave me a better understanding of why he was here. Perhaps you can tell me what it was that drew you to him when you first met?”

I glance a little uncertainly at Matthew to find him smiling and nodding in encouragement. “Honestly, I don’t know,” I say quietly. “I’ve told him before when I first met him I hated him.” Matthew snorts a laugh beside me and I roll my eyes at him, smiling myself. “He pulled up in this flashy sports car wearing clothes no one could ever find within a hundred miles of my town and walked into the diner like he owned the place.”

“Were you physically attracted to him?” she asks.

I blush slightly. “I think anybody with eyes is attracted to him,” I murmur. “Anywhere he goes, whatever he does, he’s got women and probably several men undressing him with their eyes.”

It takes me a moment to realize Matthew released my hand and was now using it to muffle his laughter. I take the opportunity to dig an elbow into his ribs, grinning at him. “Men, really?” he asks.

“Chet was asking me for your number,” I tell him, looking back to Dr. Morris who is scribbling something in her notepad and realize she’s probably making some observation about me. “Um, yes, I was attracted to him…”

The corner of her mouth hitches up into a smile. “Go on,” she urges. “What was your first impression about Matthew?”

“Self-absorbed, entitled trust fund kid,” I say promptly. “And one of the first things he said to me was a pickup line.”

“Not true,” Matthew scoffs, grinning. I raise an eyebrow at him. He rolls his eyes and looks at Dr. Morris. “Okay, it’s a little true.”

“And how did you feel about that, Samantha?” Dr. Morris asks.