Young Revelations (Young Series) (53 page)

“I loved yours too,” I reply, wrapping my arms around her and pressing my lips to her forehead.

“I meant every word. The good and the bad we’ve gone through is only taking us closer to our happily ever after. I realize that now, even if I didn’t five years ago. I’m with you until the end, whenever that might be.”

Unable to form a response through the lump in my throat, I compromise by kissing her slowly and deeply, trying to convey with actions what I can’t seem to do with words right now. We move to lie down on the bed, breaking our kiss and just holding each other. Nothing could be more perfect.

“So your dad is here?” she says quietly after several moments.

“Way to kill the mood,” I grumble, partly playfully. She squeezes my hand apologetically. “Yes, my dad is here. And before you ask, he’ll be on best behavior or he’ll answer to me. He and I had a long overdue conversation before the ceremony, and he said some things that make me believe he’s trying to turn over a new leaf. He’d like to talk to you later. It’s completely up to you of course and I won’t leave you alone with him, but I think it’d be a good idea.”

She sighs. “Considering you seem to have made amends with my brother,” she begins, “I suppose I could try at least listening to your father. I’m telling you now, though, Matt, I can’t go through what I went through the first time with that man. I won’t. So if he starts—”

“If he starts, I will personally drag him out of this house and make certain he never returns,” I tell her firmly. “As for your brother, yeah, we’ve straightened out a few things.”

“I’m glad,” she whispers. “I always wanted my family to get along with you. And for yours to get along with me.”

“Now’s our chance,” I say. “And I’m sure our guests are getting impatient. No food or drink is being served until we return…”

She giggles. “Perfect. They’ll get hungry and thirsty, and leave on their own,” she jokes.

As tempting as it is to stay here with her for the rest of the night, we eventually get up to join our wedding guests. As we walk down the stairs, people begin cheering again and I see Samantha starting to flush as all of the attention turns towards us. I take a moment to look around the transformation of the house—during the ceremony, all the final touches were completed and I barely recognize the first level of my home. All the furniture has been removed—where to I have no idea—and in its place are several round tables decorated with white table cloths and dinner plates, blue drinking glasses, and what look to be crystal ice sculptures in the shape of flowers. Near the fireplace is a long table decorated similarly where Claire and Danny and Lily and Marcus are sitting on either side of two empty chairs meant for Samantha and me. We make our way to the table and I pull out Samantha’s chair for her before seating myself.

Almost like magic, several waiters leave the kitchen with bottles of what I assume to be champagne for the majority of the guests, though they serve us sparkling apple cider, and the toasts begin. Once Claire and Bonnie and Jimmy and my mother have had their say, I stand up.

“Samantha and I realize this probably seems like déjà vu for a lot of you, attending our wedding,” I begin, eliciting several laughs from the guests, “but we want to thank you for being here all the same.” I glance down at my wife. “It seems like it’s taken us a lifetime to get back here together, and now that we are, I’m not letting you get away from me again, Sam.”

“You better not,” Claire grumbles rather loudly from Samantha’s other side.

I roll my eyes. “Yes, thank you, Claire,” I say, glaring at my sister as everyone laughs again. “A lot of you have been there with us since we were reunited and you have no idea what your support has meant to us. I also realize it’s the day after Christmas and most of you have made serious rearrangements of your holiday plans, so hopefully we’ll be able to make up for that somehow. In the meantime, there’s food, there’s drink, there’s cake, and there’s music so let’s enjoy ourselves.”

I sit back down and take my wife’s hand, and the food begins to arrive. I honestly can’t remember the last time I actually enjoyed myself at a party, laughing and joking with my friends and just relaxing. Looking around, everyone seems to be having a good time—even my dad is smiling from his spot beside my mother. They’re sat at a table with Jimmy and Bonnie, and I once again, for what has to be the hundredth time, have to wonder what’s going on with my father’s health.

The food distracts my mind from those troubles—I can deal with them another time—and when our son decides he wants to sit with us, there’s no room for worry right now. This is my life, this is where I belong, and this is where I’m staying.

––––-o––––-

After we cut the cake, and I threaten Matthew, not entirely playfully, that if he smashes cake in my face he’s sleeping on the couch tonight, it’s time for our first dance. I barely hear the music as he pulls me into his arms and spins me around the area of the house we normally refer to as the entryway. I can’t even begin to explain how wonderful this day has been and how perfect the wedding preparations turned out. With my arms around my husband’s neck (I really do love referring to him like that), I think about what would have happened if he’d just thrown in the towel when I left him after Tyler’s kidnapping. We certainly wouldn’t be dancing here right now and I’d probably still be at Claire’s while I decided where I would go next.

“What are you thinking about?” he murmurs as we sway. The song has changed and the rest of the guests join us on the floor. I smile when I see Tyler and Abby trying to dance, even though it resembles a wrestling match more than anything.

“Nothing I feel like sharing on a happy day,” I respond. “Let’s leave it at I’m very glad you’re as stubborn and determined as you are, and then you can kiss me.”

He chuckles. “You’re rather demanding, Mrs. Young,” he comments, reaching up to tilt my chin to better access my lips. “But I must do as my wife asks.”

“Smart man,” I murmur against his lips.

Sighing contentedly, he breaks the kiss and wraps his arms around me again. “When was the last time we danced?” he wonders aloud.

I rest my head on his shoulder, only slightly annoyed that my baby bump won’t allow me to push any closer to him. “Hmm,” I begin, trying to remember. “I think that was when I was Mrs. Young the first time, Mr. Young.”

“So far too long,” he replies, nodding. “We’ll have to do this more often; I’d forgotten how much I like it.”

We dance a few more songs together, but people start decided we’ve monopolized each other enough and begin cutting in. Matthew is taken away by Bonnie, while I’m dancing with Danny. After that, the dance partners have no rhyme or reason. I think I’ve danced with nearly everybody at least once and I’m eager to get back to my husband, but apparently one last person has decided to have a dance with me.

I look at the hand Paul Young is holding out for me warily, then look up to the man’s face. It’s obvious he’s unhealthy, but he’s got a small smile on his lips. I don’t think he’s ever smiled at me. Matthew approaches, standing slightly off to the side and looking at me, silently asking if I’m okay. I smile thinly and nod to him, then hesitantly place my hand in Paul’s. He looks relieved, and I remember my words to Matthew not long ago about hearing his father out. I tentatively place a hand on my father-in-law’s shoulder while he rests a hand on my waist and we begin to dance.

“You look lovely today, Samantha,” Paul comments after a moment.

I blink rapidly, wondering how this is possibly the same man who a few months ago threatened to take me to court to get me out of his then believed-to-be-deceased son’s home. He’s the man who incited panic attacks from me at the mere thought of being in a room with him for any prolonged amount of time. And now he’s telling me I love lovely… “Thank you,” I reply politely.

He sighs. “Listen, I know I’m not one of your favorite people in the world,” he says. It takes every ounce of self-restraint I’ve ever had in my life to not to make a comment about that being the biggest understatement I’ve ever heard in my life. “And for good reason. The way I’ve treated you over the years has been abysmal and there is no excuse for it. You deserve better treatment than that and I’m sorry.”

I feel like I’m being lulled into some sort of false security and at any moment, the floor will be pulled out from under me. “Why?” I respond. “You’ve never cared about me or my feelings or the way you treat me—not in the three years Matthew and I were married before and certainly not in the last several months since I’ve been back. If anything, you’ve gotten more ruthless in your attacks and I’m not sure I could ever move past that.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t,” Paul says. “Regardless, I am sorry for what I’ve put you through.”

“Do you even know what you’ve put me through?” I ask him. “You made me feel worthless and unworthy of the love of a man I adore. You made me second guess everything I did and said to Matthew, because I didn’t want to come off seeming as though I was after his money or anything else. Even though he tried to tell me he never believed for a second I was anything you said I was, it was always in the back of my mind. I thought it would get better when he and I were married—yet it got worse. The attacks were less subtle. The only thing I have to thank you for is that you never treated our son the way you did me. At least he was accepted as part of the family because he was blood. And I’m not even going to go into what happened when Matt was in the hospital.”

We’ve stopped dancing and have moved off to the side of the floor. I can see Matthew dancing nearby with his mother, shooting concerned glances over at me every few seconds, just waiting in case he needs to intervene. I send him another tight smile to tell him I’m okay and he winks back.

“You can think what you want,” I continue saying to Paul. “That I’m a gold digger and that I’m going to bleed your son dry financially and that I’ll never be what he needs. But I’ll tell you this right now: I’m not going anywhere. I’m done with the days where you can intimidate me with just a look. Matthew and I have been through too much to put any stock into what you think of our relationship. I love him, he loves me, and you can either accept that or stay out of our lives.”

Honestly, I never knew I could say those words and keep my voice as steady as I have. And strangely, Paul looks impressed. “I’m sorry it’s taken this long for me to realize what it is Matt sees in you, Samantha,” he says quietly. My brow furrows as I try to work out whether this is meant to be an insult or not. “I know eight years have been wasted, and that it’s completely my fault, but I’m hoping we might get through that somehow. A lot of damage has been done with my words and I want to try and make that up to you. I’d like for us to get to know one another, Samantha. If you’ll let me.”

Looking at him now, I’m trying to work out what it was about him that I always felt to be so intimidating. He’s an old man—a slightly sickly looking one—but he actually reminds me of my father. I’ve never doubted that Paul Young loves his children, but I never thought the way he went about showing it was the right way. I don’t know what’s sparked this turning a new leaf, but he seems genuine, at least for the moment…

“Okay,” I answer. “If you really mean all of that, then okay. I would very much like us to get to know each other.”

He smiles and for the first time, probably ever, I see his resemblance to his son. “Excellent,” he says softly. “Now, I won’t keep you from your party or your husband any longer. I’m glad we had this conversation.”

I smile back. “Me too,” I say quietly. With another smile, he turns towards the party, probably in search of his wife. I watch him with a furrowed brow, thinking I couldn’t make this day anymore surreal if I tried.

“You okay?”

I turn to my left to find Matthew standing beside me. “Yeah, I’m good,” I tell him, smiling. “That was… interesting…”

He snorts a laugh and takes my hand. “To say the least,” he replies. “Would you like another dance?”

“Actually, I’d prefer to sit,” I tell him. “Your daughter is not pleased with all the action going on around us.”

Chuckling, Matthew leads us back to the table where we spend the rest of the reception teasing one another and talking to our wedding guests and stealing the occasional kiss with each other. Absolute bliss…

––––-o––––-

Finally, I’m seeing the last of the guests out of the house. Tyler has gone home with my sister and her family for the night to give Samantha and me a bit of privacy on our wedding night, which I intend to take full advantage of, and I sigh in relief at the absolute silence. Currently my wife is upstairs “prepping” for the rest of our evening, whatever that means, leaving me to my thoughts for a few minutes.

Today has been amazing. Once Samantha got a bit of rest, she and I spent most of our time on the dance floor again, and I got to watch as she danced with our son, who in all honesty looks like he’s having a seizure when he dances—he gets that from me, I think. But he seemed to be having the time of his life, and that’s what counts. I don’t know how much of this he understands—about what today signifies—but I hope he sees his parents happy. Because right now, we are. And I think we captured that beautifully when the three of us posed for photos, one of which will be chosen to replace our first wedding portrait above the fireplace. Of course we’ll probably redo it once the baby is born, but we’ve got plenty of wall space in this house for tons more.

The only downside has been the thought that I wish Leo had been here to celebrate with us, but those thoughts usually lead into the ones about
why
he isn’t here and what he did before he died, so I’m trying not to linger too much. Aside from the obvious feeling of overwhelming happiness that we’re together and married again, I’m exhausted and all I want is to lock myself in my bedroom with my wife and spend the night not sleeping.