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.
––––-o––––-
Sitting in my hotel room, I’m staring at two photos, both ultrasounds. One is of Tyler from the day Samantha told me she was pregnant with him; the other is of our daughter. I’ve carried Tyler’s around with me all these years, particularly when I’m away on business, to remind me of what’s important in my life. It’s not my career or my money, or anything else that goes along with it; it’s my family. Even after Samantha and I divorced, they were always my number one priority. Even when I tried to move on with my life, they were always at the forefront of my mind. I never thought I would get another chance with Samantha and Tyler. Never thought we would be where we are today, once again engaged and expecting a child. This has all been the most amazing dream. Well, until very recently, that is…
I haven’t spoken to Samantha since the day I left for Germany. Claire has made certain of that. The couple of times I’ve tried to contact her directly at the hospital, I’ve been told the telephone has been removed from her room and she has requested no calls. I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that the most important person in my life wants absolutely nothing to do with me. If I thought the engagement party was a disaster, that has nothing on our present situation. I’ve tried to think of anything that might have made her believe I could possibly cheat on her and the only thing I’ve come up with is Natalie’s presence at our home. Of course she’s going to think the worst following that mess. The seeds of doubt were planted firmly in her mind and the fact that I didn’t consult with her about who Natalie really was and invited her to the party certainly isn’t helping my case.
There have been moments when I’ve wondered how Samantha knew about Natalie at all. Her initial reaction to Natalie wasn’t what it should have been if she hadn’t known about her to begin with. I suspect Claire might have mentioned her at some point. Not that it matters; it was never my intention to hide the fact that I dated when Samantha and I were separated…
And then there’s the video itself. Marcus agreed to help me figure out the source and upon his first viewing, he agreed with my suspicion that the video had been manipulated. Someone spliced the video of Natalie and myself with one to make it seem as though our tryst occurred much more recently than it actually had. I can’t think of anybody who would go through this much trouble to hurt me. I can handle professional threats, even when the threats involve my family, but I’ve never encountered something like this. Whoever has done this has a vendetta against me and I have a feeling it’s personal rather than professional. As Marcus talks me through possible suspects, I have to list people I never thought could hurt me and I realize my father is at the top of the list.
It’s never been a secret that my father doesn’t like Samantha and would prefer she wasn’t in my life, but I thought over the years he’s resigned himself that she’ll be the only one I want to spend my life with, even if she’s not actually in my life. I never considered it a possibility that he would go to such lengths to split us up. Even with the suggestion, I don’t want to believe he’s behind all of this. If it was him, he’s risked the life of his second grandchild, and my father might be a lot of things, but he would never harm an innocent baby.
Unless it’s too early for him to consider the thought that Samantha is carrying his grandchild. Maybe he planned it like this to have Samantha lose the baby and drive her away from me all at once. And of course he would probably justify it by saying he was doing what he thought was best for me…
No. Sorry. That’s too much for me to believe. There has to be another option.
Aside from finding out who is behind this, I need to figure out a way to prove to Samantha this video is a fake. The two videos that were spliced are of different qualities, the newer one being slightly less grainy than the older one, but I’m not sure that’s enough to prove the truth. I need something more concrete, something that will show Samantha without a shadow of a doubt that I could never betray her like that.
It’s been nearly two days since my arrival to Germany and I’m nowhere closer to solving that problem than I am wrapping up the mess I’ve landed myself in with the plane crash. Though I’ve given my testimony under oath and have signed an affidavit of what happened that day, it’s taking forever to get through the damn hearing. Between the needs for translators on both sides and only spending two to three hours a day getting through everything, I could be here for months. I’m stressed and frustrated and lonely and afraid. I can’t even reassure myself that Samantha and the baby will be okay, because I have no idea how she’s doing. Whenever I call Claire for an update, she rejects my call. I’ve sent text messages and emails to both her and Samantha hoping for a response, though I’ve stopped trying to contact Samantha directly when I came to the realization that the reason she’s in this situation is because of stress and that was probably the reason for the telephone removal from her room and why her cell phone is turned off. It would kill me if something happened to either of them, and as much as it hurts, I have to make sure I don’t do anything to make it worse.
A knock on the door startles me out of my thoughts, and as I stand to see who’s come to visit, I hastily wipe away my watery eyes. When I open the door, I find Marcus standing on the other side. “There’s something you need to see,” he says by way of greeting as he pushes into my room.
“What?” I ask hoarsely. “Marcus, I’m really not in the mood right now.”
“Well, get in the mood, because I think I found something to prove this video has been doctored,” he tells me, setting up his laptop on the table beside the ultrasound photos of my children. I approach as he looks down at them, smiling. “You’re going to have your hands full when that little girl is born. She’s going to wrap you around her little finger the moment you hold her.”
I smile sadly in agreement. Then I realize what he said before. My mouth drops open. “What do you mean, you found something?” I ask urgently.
Marcus ignores me as he pulls up the video again and fast forwards through it until the part on the couch in my office. “Didn’t you do a whole renovation of your office a couple years ago?” he asks. “I only remember because while it was going on you were stuck working out of that little cubicle.”
Furrowing my brow, I nod, standing beside him and looking at the image. He’s right. A few months after Natalie and I broke up, I decided my building needed a few upgrades. After the bombing, half the building was refurbished, but we just replaced whatever was damaged and called it done. I wanted something new to look at every day so I contracted a company to come in and redesign nearly everything, including my office. The only thing I left in place was my desk since it was setup with extra security precautions. And that couch was the first thing to go…
“Son of a bitch,” I breathe in realization. “Marcus, you’re a fucking genius and if I thought I could do it without getting punched, I’d kiss you.”
Marcus raises an eyebrow and takes a pointed step backwards. “Let’s save that,” he says dully. “You’ve got enough on your plate without adding a concussion to your troubles.”
“You might have saved my relationship,” I tell him, staring at the still frame of the video. Now that he’s pointed it out, it’s blatantly obvious that the couch doesn’t belong there. Next I pull up a live feed from my office, just to confirm our suspicions. With the push of a few buttons, we’ve got several screen capture shots as evidence to support the theory, all of which I put in an email. Before I send it, I call the one person in the world who might actually be willing to hear me out, tr
ying to keep the excitement out of my voice as he picks up.
“Danny, it’s Matt,” I say immediately. “I need a favor…”
11
For the first time since being admitted to the hospital and nearly losing my baby, I’m actually smiling. Claire dropped by with dinner and brought Tyler with her. The second he walked into the room and spotted me, he gave me a huge grin, sprinted the distance to my bed, and climbed up to sit in my lap. I spent a few minutes crying into his hair, though, I couldn’t pinpoint the reason; it could be any number of things. He started speaking at a very rapid pace, telling me about what he’s been up to and how much he misses me and asking when am I coming home. I couldn’t give him an answer to that, as I still don’t know myself. All I could tell him is that I’ll be home as soon as I feel better. He said I don’t look sick and that I should come home now. Thankfully Claire distracted him with dinner.
While we eat, Tyler dictates the conversation, hardly allowing Claire or me to get even a single word in. It’s only when he asks about Matthew that my smile falters. Claire tells him Matthew is away on business and he’ll be home soon too. Luckily, Tyler seems to accept that and doesn’t pick up on the uncertain and worried expressions Claire and I exchange. Despite how tired I am, even after just lying here all day, I’m dreading the moment Claire takes him away from me again. He’s reminding me of what matters right now and I’m becoming even more pissed off at Matthew for landing me here. I’m losing time with my son, the person who has been a constant in my life since the day he was born. Our separation the last time I was in the hospital was difficult, but at least I had the comforting knowledge that we’d be reunited very soon. I’m sure the same is true now, but that time seems frightfully far off at the moment.
Dr. Reilly arrives during the visit and he grins at the sight of my son curled up in my lap. “And who is this?” he asks. I’m once again struck by how attractive he really is. To my confusion, he’s appeared in several of my dreams since he first introduced himself, some of which went beyond a simple doctor/patient relationship. I wonder whether, in another world, he and I might have more than that. Then, I immediately feel guilty, reminding myself I’m engaged and despite our problems right now, we might actually find a way to fix this situation.
“This is my son Tyler,” I tell him. “Tyler, this is Dr. Reilly.”
“Hi,” Tyler says shyly, pressing himself into my side. “Are you making my mommy feel better?”
Dr. Reilly smiles at him, his blue eyes sparkling and his dimples showing. “Well, I’m certainly doing my best,” he answers. “Though, I think having you here is making her feel better too.”
Tyler looks up at me questioningly as though seeking confirmation of the doctor’s words. I nod at him. “I think he’s right,” I say, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Now why don’t you sit with Aunt Claire for a minute or two?”
I’m not the slightest bit surprised when Tyler refuses to vacate his seat. Dr. Reilly chuckles. “Don’t worry about it,” he says easily. “I’ll come back around later once the room clears out.”
I start to protest, knowing he’s probably got a lot of other patients to tend to without having to make a second trip to me.
“It’s no trouble,” Dr. Reilly assures me softly. “Enjoy your visit.”
With that, he breezes out of the room and Claire watches his retreat with glossy eyes. “He really is beautiful,” she sighs.
I roll my eyes. “Save it, Claire,” I tell her. “He’s probably married.”
“Nope,” Claire informs me. “No ring. First thing I noticed.”
“Of course it was,” I mutter. “Girlfriend, then. Or are you going to tell me you’ve stalked him enough to know he doesn’t have one of those either?”
Claire’s eyebrows rise thoughtfully. “I’m not normally a stalker,” she says slowly, “but I think I can make an exception…”
Laughing at her, I turn back to what little is left of my dinner. “What’s a stalker?” Tyler asks.
Claire smirks at me, both of us fully aware I only have myself to blame for this one. “A stalker is a person who follows around another person,” I explain to my son. “They’re not nice people.” I shoot a glare at Claire; silently letting her know my last sentence was mostly directed at her. Her smirk only grows.
When Tyler and I yawn almost in unison, causing Claire to laugh at us, she decides it’s time for them to head out for the night. I’ve been dreading this and it’s only made worse when Tyler starts to cry at the suggestion; he wants to be separated from me about as much as I want to be separated from him. “It’s okay, honey,” I murmur into his hair, trying to fight my own emotions. “Go have fun with your cousins and I’ll be home soon.”
“But I don’t wanna go,” he mumbles through his gasping sobs. I look helplessly at Claire who looks on the verge of tears as well. Tyler never acts like this. Normally, I can reassure him long before he gets to this point and his easygoing nature eventually accepts whatever situation he needs to face. It breaks my heart to see him like this, knowing there isn’t any way to comfort him aside from going home with him, and unfortunately that’s just not an option at the moment.
“I don’t want you to go either,” I tell him. “But I need you to be a strong boy for me right now, okay? Aunt Claire will bring you to see me again soon.” I look up to Claire for confirmation and she nods immediately, promising to do just that, and that seems to calm him down enough that he finally pulls away from me.
He’s still crying, but his sobs are subsiding. “Okay,” he mutters reluctantly, his bottom lip jutting out adorably. “Love you, Mommy.”
I close my eyes for a moment, knowing that if I start crying now, it’ll only set him off again. “I love you too, baby,” I tell him as he slides off the bed and takes Claire’s hand. Now that he’s being agreeable, Claire is eager to get him out of the room to avoid another problem. We all say our goodbyes. Claire promises another visit tomorrow for Tyler’s benefit, and they’re gone again, leaving me feeling more alone than ever before. I curl up on my side, wondering if we’ll ever get to live our lives the way Matthew and I had planned to live them, or if it will always be like this for us.
It would be so much easier if I was able to say I hate him for what he’s done, but the truth of the matter is, no matter what he does, I don’t think I could ever hate him. That’s the downside of unconditional love: you can’t just turn it off when times get tough no matter how much you might want to. Even if I could turn it off, would I want to? He’s been the center of my world practically from the day I met him and no amount of wishing or determination could change that. Loving him doesn’t mean I have to stay with him, though. And that’s a painful thought. The five years I spent without him were a daily struggle for strength, and I was only starting to get to the point where I thought I could manage life without him before he showed up again. After everything we’ve been through in the last several months, it would be almost impossible to try to move on now. Especially with another child on the way.
At the thought of my daughter, my arms wrap protectively over my belly where I’m only starting to show and force my thoughts to calm down, lest my blood pressure will shoot up again. My tears begin to abate and I begin to drift off, hoping that when I wake up, my world will be back to how it should be.
––––-o––––-
I wake suddenly and realize it’s very late. Blinking to clear my vision, I see the television is still on and turned to the cartoon channel while Tyler had been here. I uncurl my body and freeze, suddenly getting the strange feeling that I’m not alone in my room. Assuming it’s an orderly or a nurse checking on me, I look around and find the source of my uneasiness. There’s a woman standing across from my bed, leaning against the wall and watching me. The room is dark, so I can’t make her out very well, but I know it’s not Claire.
For a moment, I consider pressing the red button beside my right hand to call for a nurse. Instead, I switch on the light abov
e my bed. In an instant, I go from uneasy to pissed off beyond belief. “What the hell are you doing here?” I spit at the woman.
It’s Natalie. She’s dressed casually in a sweater and pants, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She’s smirking at me. “I heard you weren’t feeling well,” she says, her voice making the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stick straight up, “and I thought I’d come see how you were doing. I know Matty is out of the country.”
The reference from her about my fiancé would cause fury at any point, but knowing Matthew hates being called “Matty” and the only people who address him in that way are close family members, and only when we want to get a rise out of him makes me see red. “Get the fuck away from me,” I growl. “And stay away from Matthew.”
Natalie raises an eyebrow, pushing herself off the wall until she’s at the foot of my bed. She rests her hands on the foot rail and leans forward a little. “Sweetie, you can’t handle him,” she tells me softly. I feel sick suddenly. “Look at you. The slightest problem and you land yourself in the hospital. And clearly, you can’t satisfy him. Though I’m sure you’ll figure that out for yourself.”
I have no idea what’s keeping me on this bed right now when all I want to do is throw myself at her and rip her apart. “He dumped you because you’re not me,” I remind her, feeling my voice getting stronger when her expression slips just a little. “So, who’s the one who can’t satisfy him?”
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