Young Revelations (Young Series) (13 page)

It’s not until we’re climbing back onto the boat that someone says something that truly upsets me. And it comes from Matthew’s father as Matthew is helping from the ladder onto the boat. I’m not sure whether he intended to hear his comment to Holly about how I look like a drowned rat coming out of the water, but I suspect he raises his voice just enough that Matthew would hear the comparison of me to Lucy and how much better she looked in a bathing suit than I do. I can see the anger in Matthew’s eyes as my brow furrows at the words, but I try to play off hearing them at all. I should know by now I can’t fool him, though; I quickly excuse myself to go get changed before the hurt I feel has a chance to show on my face.

Below deck, I set a towel on the edge of the bed and sit down, wondering what I might have done to make Matthew’s father dislike me so much. I’ve barely spoken to him at all, yet that doesn’t seem to matter. I’ve surmised that Lucy is Matthew’s ex-girlfriend from college, the one who he caught in bed with his friend. Personally, I don’t understand why anybody would be such a fan of someone who betrayed someone they love in such a way. But apparently Lucy made an impression on Matthew’s father and older sisters. I briefly wonder how long I’ll have to endure these comparisons, whether I’ll ever be enough in Paul Young’s eyes for his son. Then I wonder whether any of this is worth having to deal with this crap.

I wipe my eyes hastily when there’s a soft knock on the door. It opens before I even take in a breath to tell whoever is there I’m here and I feel myself crumble a little when Matthew enters, taking in my appearance with one glance as he closes the door. “I was going to ask if you’re alright,” he says quietly, coming to sit beside me, “but that seems pointless now.”

Staring at my feet, I try to think of something to say to convince him I am fine, but nothing comes to mind. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

He stiffens for a moment. “Why are you sorry?” he demands softly. “Samantha, you haven’t done anything to be sorry for. I’m just sorry my dad is such an asshole. And I’m also sorry I didn’t think to warn you that he and my older sisters are still very attached to my ex-girlfriend.” I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so bitter about anything. “I thought they’d gotten over it; nobody’s mentioned her for months. It seems your introduction has resurrected conversations that should have died years ago. When it comes down to it, though, it’s nothing to do with you. Despite what they think or want, to me, there is no comparison between you and Lucy. You mean more to me than she ever did and I was with her for nearly three years. You’re so much better than she could possibly hope to be. And if they have any sense in their heads, my family will see that.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, but he doesn’t seem to expect anything in response. He brings a hand up to cup my cheek and closes the distance between our lips. For what I assume was intended to be gentle, reassuring kiss, it quickly turns into something much more heated and consuming. I’m not even aware of him lowering me back onto the bed until his body is covering mine and I feel his hand sliding up my top. “Matt, what—”

“Shh,” he murmurs against my lips as he begins to slowly undress me. “I think we both need this right now.”

Even if I wanted to argue, I don’t think I could find the strength to do so. The fingers of one hand are tangled in his hair while my other one is running down his muscled back. His body is rather deceiving. When he’s fully dressed he looks thin and gangly; in moments like these, I’m reminded he works out every day and I can’t think of anything stronger than the feel of his arms around my body.

His mouth moves away from mine, down my neck, then lower until he takes a nipple in his mouth. I gasp pleasurably as his teeth graze it through the material of my top. Growling lowly, he moves over to the next one and his hand falls down between my legs, massaging me until I’m sighing putty in his arms. “I love this bathing suit,” he tells me, grinning from his position at my belly while he pushes my top up and away from my body. “The second I saw you in it, I wanted to peel you out of it. I think we’ll have to do a bit of swimming when we get home; I’d love to see it floating in the water while you’re in my arms.”

I consider this and it definitely has its merits. All thoughts are lost when he removes the bottom portion of my bathing suit and he focuses on bringing me enough pleasure that I forget where we are, much less why I’d been upset only a few minutes ago. I swear this man has the most talented tongue in the world, not that I have anything to compare it to. He brings me right to the edge of oblivion and stops. Not the first time he’s done this and I really don’t know why I’m surprised that he’s done it now; all I really know is that I’m annoyed he’s stopped. In the next moment, he’s pushing his way up my body, having lost his shorts, kissing every inch of me as he goes.

When he reaches my lips, he’s grinning, though his eyes are as dark as I’ve ever seen them. “I’ve always wanted to do this on a boat,” he tells me huskily, pressing our lips together. Our tongues are waging war with each other as he sinks into me. My eyes fly open as he fills me and I see so much in his expression that I couldn’t even hope to identify. Whatever it is, I’m feeling it too, and it’s almost overwhelming.

We move together for what could be forever until I’m clutching him to me and he’s gasping for breath, kissing every part of me he can reach. He’s murmuring incoherently as he tenses and stills, and I’m left completely breathless, staring up at him with wide eyes. For several minutes, we’re completely silent, his head buried in my neck as our breathing returns to something resembling normal. It’s not until I feel him shaking that I open my eyes again.

“What?” I ask in a whisper, moving my head to see him better.

He’s grinning widely at me, his eyes dancing and he’s fighting laughter. “You’re such a bad influence on me,” he accuses without conviction. “Sex on my father’s boat. What were you thinking?”

“Me?” I shoot back incredulously. “I didn’t do anything. You’re the one who tackled me to the bed and took advantage of my moment of weakness.”

“Moment of weakness?” he repeats, laughing as he rolls off my and pulls me onto his chest. “Please. You don’t know the meaning of weakness.”

His words stop my arguments dead and I’m sure his tone is full of pride; though pride for what, I’m not certain. “Actually I do,” I correct him. “I call it Matthew.”

He laughs again. “I’m flattered,” he mutters, pressing a kiss against my temple. We’re silent for a few minutes before he sighs. “We’re headed back to the dock. Should be there in a half hour at most. And I’ve had words with my father about his comments earlier. I’d love to tell you he intends to give you a full apology, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.” Suddenly his father’s words don’t mean as much to me as they did before. Maybe it’s because Matthew’s got his arms around me. Maybe it’s because my head is resting above his steadily beating heart. Maybe it’s because when I’m with him nothing else matters. Whatever the reason, I’m in no hurry to lose it. “What kills me is that they don’t even know you and they’re passing all these judgments.”

I sigh. “You don’t really know me either,” I remind him softly.

One of his hands moves to turn me so he can look me in the eyes. “That’s just not true,” he murmurs, giving me a knowing, mysterious look . “I know you better than you think.”

My eyebrows rise at his words. “Is that so?” He nods once, slowly. “And what do you think you know about me?”

He grins as though he’d hoped I would ask. “I know you’re beautiful,” he begins softly. “And intelligent. And funny. And headstrong. And I know one of the best decisions I’ve ever made in my life was having you come out here to live with me. Furthermore, I know you’ve come to mean more to me in the short time we’ve known each other than people I’ve known my entire life. And the opinions of other people have no meaning to me.”

What am I supposed to say to that? I push myself up to kiss him, trying to show him I feel the same towards him. We indulge in each other’s lips and tongues for a few more minutes before reluctantly deciding we need to get up, get dressed, and face his family for however much longer we’re on this boat with them. I’m determined not to let his father or older sisters see they’ve affected me. I’ve got Matthew’s approval and that’s all I need. Besides, I have a feeling I’ve made a new friend out of Claire.

Paul and his oldest daughters don’t come near me or Matthew throughout the duration of our trip back to the dock. Instead, we spend the time with his mother and sister, both of whom seem to genuinely like me as much as I like them. And the fact that they approve only seems to please Matthew more.

Before we leave for home, Claire makes plans for us to hang out later in the week and Diane all but orders Matthew to bring me by very soon to have lunch with her. I ignore the curled lips from Paul, Elizabeth, and Holly as I hug the other two and Matthew leads me off the boat. All in all, despite my initial nerves and everything that happened this afternoon, I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun. Swimming with Matthew, getting to know Claire, private time with Matthew… Any time I see that boat in the future, I’ll smirk and probably blush deeply at the memories we made in that bedroom below deck. Not to mention the knowledge that we did what we did in full knowledge that Paul Young doesn’t approve of our relationship. That feels like a jab we got in on him, even though I hope he never finds out.

More than that, though, something in my relationship with Matthew seems to have shifted for the better. I still don’t really know what it was, but it isn’t an experience I ever plan on forgetting.

Six and a half year ago…

Stepping out of the conference room, I immediately reach for and remove the tie I wore to work today. Normally I wouldn’t even consider wearing one, but as I was to be in a room full of four-star generals, I figured I should probably get a little dressed up. Samantha sat on the bed watching me struggle to tie the damn thing this morning and laughing her ass off before finally taking pity on me and executing a perfect Windsor knot in less than thirty seconds. She then commented how strange I looked in a suit and tie and that she could get used to seeing me like that. I told her not to hold her breath that she’d ever see it again, and made her promise that when I die several decades down the line she wouldn’t allow anyone to put a tie around my neck. Still laughing at me, she agreed.

I hated leaving her this morning. Since she caught the stomach bug Danny’s been suffering through for a week, she’s been miserable and unable to keep food down for more than half an hour. In fact, just as I was about to walk out the front door, she bolted to the hallway bathroom to rid her stomach of the toast she managed to choke down. I was a little late getting into work since I wanted to make sure she was okay before I had to leave her. I got her back into bed with water and crackers in case she felt adventurous later on, and on my way to the office, I called Claire to see if she was up to coming to keep Samantha company while I was at work. Since she’s reaching the end of her pregnancy with twins, I know she’s been more content spending her days in bed. Today is apparently one of her good days, though, and she immediately agreed to check on Samantha a little later for me.

Now that one of the most stressful mornings of my life has come to an end and we’ve successfully negotiated terms and funds for my company’s latest development—new satellite technology that incorporates x-ray technology—I can consider grabbing a bite to eat and calling to check on Samantha before my afternoon meetings. But of course the moment I reach my office, my phone begins ringing off the hook and I resign myself to another long day.

Sandra orders lunch for me and I remind myself to give her a raise as I eye large sandwich she sets in front of me on my desk. She winks as I mouth
thank you
and go on with my phone discussion. After hanging up, I start my lunch and manage to get about a third of the way through it before my intercom buzzes.

“Yes?” I say thickly through my sandwich. Manners mean jack shit to me at the moment; I’m starving and it looks as though I’m about to get interrupted again.

“Matthew, the front desk just called,” Sandra tells me. “Samantha is on her way up. And apparently she seems upset.”

I drop my sandwich back onto its wrapper. “Why’s Samantha here?” I ask dumbly.

“How should I know? She’s your wife,” Sandra shoots back before the line goes dead.

In an instant, I’m worried. Samantha rarely comes to visit me at work and never without letting me know first. And the fact that she seems upset does nothing to calm my nerves in the slightest. Has something happened to a family member, hers or mine? I know she’s been homesick recently, particularly after we returned from our honeymoon. Is she coming to tell me she’s going home to Iowa? Is she leaving me?

Oh, now I’m terrified of her arrival. I can’t let this happen. Trying to stave off the inevitable panic attack, I think of anything I could have done to upset her so much that she’s decided to do this. Whatever it is, I’ll shamelessly beg for forgiveness.

I stop suddenly realizing I’ve been pacing my office and pulling on my hair. What the hell am I thinking? I haven’t done anything to upset Samantha. And I know she wouldn’t leave me. Even if she was leaving, she wouldn’t come to my work to tell me… No, there’s another explanation for her being her and her apparent state of upset. I just need to calm down and wait for her and find out what the hell is going on.

It seems to take ages for the soft knock on my door to open and I realize I’ve been standing there the whole time, just waiting for her arrival. The moment she knocks, I pull open the door and realize what seemingly upset looks like. Samantha has been crying. Her eyes are red and puffy, and I can see dried streaks of tears down her cheeks.

“Sam,” I mutter, reaching for her hand and pulling her inside. Once the door is closed, I immediately take her in my arms, holding her closely. Apparently this action only causes her renewed sobs. I feel helpless right now, not least of all because I have no idea what’s brought this on, much less how to make her feel better. So I just do what I can, which is to hold her, press my lips to her, and murmuring nonsensical comforting words to her. Finally I feel her calming down and lead her over to the couch against the wall, sit her down, retrieve a bottle of water for her, and a box of tissues. Sitting beside her, I don’t press her for answers right away; instead I gently wipe away her tears and watch as she slowly retreats from me, curling up in a ball in the corner of the couch.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” I ask softly. She’s really starting to scare me. “Is somebody hurt?”

She shakes her head, accepting the water bottle I offer her. “No,” she says, her voice raw and hoarse from crying. “Nothing like that.”

“So what, then?” I ask, desperately trying to remain patient so she’ll tell me in her own time.

She takes in a shuddering breath, letting it out slowly as she finally looks at me and meets my gaze. I try not to flinch at the sight of her normally bright, shiny brown eyes now looking dull and desolate. “Claire took me to the doctor today,” she says very quietly. I swear my heart stops beating so I can better hear her. “She said I was having symptoms Danny wasn’t experiencing and wanted to make sure I was all right.”

I blink several times. If I’d realized she needed a doctor, I would have skipped work today without another thought and taken her myself. But I’d been under the impression, apparently wrongly, that she had my brother-in-law’s stomach flu. “And what did the doctor say?” I ask tentatively.

Her eyes dart away from mine again and she shakes her head slightly as though she’s hoping she won’t have to tell me. “They ran a few tests,” she begins quietly. “And they assured me it’s not a stomach flu.”

“What is it?”

She looks at me again, her expression full of apology and reluctance that I’ve never seen from her before. “I’m pregnant.”

And the world has just stopped spinning. Everything around me dims and I can’t hear a single thing Samantha says after those two words. Did I really hear that correctly? Did she really just tell me she’s pregnant? She couldn’t have; sure we’ve discussed starting a family, but we agreed to wait a couple years before that. When it comes down to it, we’re still getting to know each other and frankly, neither of us is even close to being ready to become a parent. At least I’m not. What the hell do I know about kids? They’re loud and messy and they will, without a doubt, put a damper on any travel plans Samantha and I have discussed. I’m pretty certain pregnant women can’t fly after a specific point. And taking a baby on vacation is such a hassle. It’s the reason I stopped travelling on commercial airplanes—screaming kids and parents who can’t keep them under control. There were moments I thought I might actually murder someone because I’d be in the middle of a nap or reading up on whatever potential business deal I had in the works and some little brat would kick the back of my seat. And the parents are no help; they just shrug their shoulders and smile as though saying “kids will be kids.” That never would have flown with my parents; if we weren’t on our best behavior, we faced the consequences. And we all knew it.

And Samantha… She’s so young. She’s just gotten into a routine with school. What’s going to happen with that? She can’t exactly take a screaming, crying baby to all of her classes, can she? After all her hopes to get her degree, she’ll have to put that on hold, possibly indefinitely, now that there’s a child in the mix.

“Matt?” she whispers. I slowly bring my wide eyes up to meet her gaze. “Please say something. You’re scaring me.”

It’s only now I realize I’ve been silent for what seems to be nearly ten minutes. I fight to find words, anything to reassure her that my intention isn’t to scare her, even though the very idea of a baby scares the shit out of me. “You’re what?” I manage to croak out.

“Pregnant,” she breathes, watching my expression closely.

“Oh,” I respond. “You’re sure?” She only nods; I nod back. “Oh.” Her expression falls and I realize I’m not reacting like she thought or hoped I would. Well, that makes two of us… “We’re going to be parents?” She nods again, her eyes still very wide. “How?”

Immediately I hear the word fall out of my mouth and realize what I’ve said. For the first time since she arrived, Samantha cracks a smile. “Matt, something tells me you don’t need a lesson on where babies come from,” she teases weakly.

I roll my eyes at myself. “No, that’s not what I meant,” I amend, allowing myself a small grin. “What about the birth control?”

Her expression sobers, leaving her looking vulnerable and scared. “I don’t know,” she admits almost inaudibly. “The doctor said it’s not 100% reliable and sometimes it fails altogether.”

Of course I knew this; I just put all my faith in a little tiny pill that my wife takes every morning. “Right…” I mutter.

“I know we planned on waiting a few years,” she says in a rush, “and I really thought we would. I wasn’t expecting this, Matt. I don’t even know if we’re ready or if I even want this right now.”

My gaze snaps back to her sharply. Did she just say that? Panic fills me again, this time sparked by the thought of losing something we’ve created together, something I didn’t even know I wanted but now can’t picture my life without. Just like when I met her. “We might not have planned it,” I begin hoarsely, reaching out for her hand, “but it’s happened. And as terrifying as it seems, I think this might well be the best thing that’s ever happened to us.”

Her eyes widen again and this time I finally see a new spark in her eyes, this one of hope. “You really think that?” she asks, watching my every reaction as though she’s trying to decipher whether I’m being truthful.

I feel a smile growing on my face. “Yes,” I say softly, reaching out to cup her cheek. “I really think that. Admittedly, I was hoping to have you to myself for the next couple of years, but as long as this is what you want, I want it too.”

I have no idea how to identify the expression that crosses her face—joy, disbelief, hope, relief—but I don’t give her the opportunity to explain before I’m pulling her into my lap and kissing her for all I’m worth. I pour all my love and happiness and gratitude into the kiss, hoping like hell she feels it too. “A baby,” I murmur against her lips, opening my eyes. I’m surprised to find my vision is slightly watery. “We’re having a baby.”

She nods, looking suddenly shy as she bites her lip. “Yes, we are,” she whispers.

I rearrange her on my lap so that she’s curled up against my chest, and the only thing on my mind is her. This feels like a dream; I’m going to be a father. This incredible woman on my lap is making me a father. I don’t think I could love her anymore than I do at this moment. After a few minutes, I recall her expression when she arrived and I feel my brow furrowing. “Samantha,” I murmur. “Why were you so upset when you got here?”

She tenses briefly, but looks up at me. She shrugs. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react,” she admits softly. “We were both so determined to keep it just the two of us and all of a sudden that’s not an option anymore. I just thought you might…” She trails off and I think I understand what she’s not saying.

“You thought I’d be angry,” I finish for her. She looks ashamed for having that thought and being forced to admit it to me. I smile at her. “Something like this could never anger me, Samantha. This is beyond amazing and I’m nervous, yes, but anger is not even a factor right now. You’ve made me so happy over the last several months and this is just another example of that. I cannot
wait
to meet our child. How far along are you?”

She blinks rapidly as she processes my words, shaking herself slightly. “About ten weeks,” she tells me. “Oh!” Suddenly she pulls away from me, startling me as she jumps off my lap to reach for the purse she abandoned on the floor when she sat down. I watch her with amusement as she digs through the bag. “And the doctor gave me this… I thought you might like to see it.”

I take the piece of paper she hands me and turn it over, and feel all the breath being knocked out of me. It’s a printed out photograph, an ultrasound. I take in all the details—a clearly defined head and a hand and a foot. It’s our baby. My vision is blurring again as I stare in awe at the photo. I’ve never seen anything more incredible than this and I don’t think I ever will again. I wonder if it’s a boy or a girl, then settle on the clichéd thought that it really doesn’t matter as long as it’s healthy. I finally manage to tear my gaze from the image and look up to find Samantha smiling at my reaction. Setting aside the photo, I scoot closer to her and silently press my hand against her belly. I’m not expecting to actually feel anything; I just want to feel where my child is growing.

Given everything up to this point, I have never seen Samantha so happy in the entire time I’ve known her. I thought she couldn’t possibly be more beautiful to me than she was on our wedding day, but that’s just plain wrong. This is the moment she is most beautiful. And I love her more than I’ve ever thought I could. Though we’ve still got months to go, I know the moment I meet our child will be among the best of my life, and I suddenly can’t think of anything I want more.