Young Revelations (Young Series)

by Kimble, W. R.

I consider her words. Have I ever given her the impression that I would stop her from making friends? The only time I’ve ever had a real issue is when it came to Saunders. And it’s not like I kept her locked up in the house day and night; she had acquaintances while she was in school and I had no problem with that. At any time, she could have gone out with friends without me. Leo and I went out a few times without her.

  There’s part of me that almost wants to ask why she can be friends with this guy, but I can’t maintain a friendship with Natalie. Not that I have any desire to maintain that friendship any longer. I also know that would be the second stupidest thing I’ve ever said to her out loud.

  “Okay,” I finally say, nodding.

  She blinks. “Okay?” she repeats.

  I shrug. “I’m certainly not going to be the type of man who objects to his wife having friends. You know I’m not that guy, Sam. I trust you. And if you say it’s platonic, then I believe you.”

  She seems surprised that it was this easy considering this morning.

  “Samantha, I love you. I want you to be happy. I don’t want you to resent me for anything. Ever.”

  I really wish I knew what that look on her face means. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “And as far as the video and Natalie goes…” She sighs. My stomach twists into knots again. “I’m still pissed about the party, but I’ll get over that. Soon. The video is going to take me time to wrap my mind around it. Fake or not, I still watched it. But I trust you, Matthew. I don’t want to believe you’re capable of something like that. Please don’t make me regret letting this go.”

  For a couple minutes, I stare at her in shock. I’ve heard her words, but I thought it would take much more to convince her I’m telling the truth. I thought I’d have to pull out my laptop and get a dozen witnesses to back up everything I’ve said. Clearly that isn’t the case and I am beyond grateful. I stand up suddenly, startling her as she tries to figure out what I’m doing. I smile, leaning forward until my hand is resting beside her head. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” I say quietly, still smiling. “But I just realized how long it’s been since I kissed you and with everything that’s happened, it seems even longer than a week. I would very much like to kiss you right now, Samantha.”

  Her brown eyes sparkle at me as she smiles. “Would you?” she asks softly.

  I nod eagerly. “Yes, very much,” I say. “Is that okay with you?”

  She pretends to think for a few seconds and I know she’s just doing it to torture me. Finally I feel fingers in my hair and her palm pushing the back of my head until our lips are a centimeter away. “I suppose that would be acceptable,” she breathes against me.

  Ignoring the urge to respond with some smartass retort, I press my lips against hers. This is where I belong, where I should have been all along, and where I will remain until she tells me I should do otherwise. What began as a nice, sweet kiss has quickly evolved into something much more heated and desperate. It takes every bit of self-restraint in my body to keep from doing anything more. In fact, I fly away from her when I hear some sort of alarm going off next to our heads. I stare at her in horror wondering if I’ve made things worse, until I realize she’s laughing at me, her eyes darting up at the little machine that apparently measures her blood pressure.

  “You seem to have some sort of effect on me,” she says, biting her lip against a laugh.

  I smirk. “I’d love to have more of an effect on you,” I say suggestively, already imagining the sort of effects I’ve got in mind for her.

  She rolls her eyes at me as I approach her again, but we’re both smiling as she reaches for my hand. “I missed you,” she whispers.

  I let out a deep breath thinking that is one of my favorite phrases to ever pass her lips. “I missed you too,” I tell her softly, my free hand moving to cup her cheek. I place a brief, sweet kiss on her lips and sit back down, my eyes darting to the machine that ruined our moment. I’m relieved to see it’s returning to normal.

  Now that we’ve managed to sort out the majority of our problems, and we’ve both accepted there are still things to work on, I’m able to relax for the first time since my plane landed. I tell her about the trial and how most of the time was spent in translation between English and German. She finds it hilarious that I very nearly screwed up my chances during the hearing by making a crack about David Hasselhoff, which was not very well received by our German counterparts. I learned Germany really does love the Hoff. And I still don’t get why. She tells me about Tyler’s visit to the hospital and how upset he had been to have to leave with Claire after his visit. Samantha felt guilty about making him leave and I felt guilty for her being in the hospital in the first place as it was the reason mother and son were separated, but we resolve to spend our entire weekend with Tyler, assuming Samantha is released from the hospital tomorrow. That seems to put her a little more at ease.

  While she naps, I sit beside her and do a bit of work on my laptop. Whenever a doctor or nurse or anybody else entered the room, I scan their face, searching for the one I saw this morning with Samantha. All I know about him is he’s a doctor and his name is Mark. Not helpful. It’d probably be better for everyone involved if he doesn’t show his face in this room, at least until I’ve had more time to process this whole situation.

  Meanwhile, I deal with our other problem. Natalie. I have no desire to see her or speak to her, but I need to do something about her harassing my pregnant fiancée. I get the ball rolling on a temporary restraining order on Samantha’s behalf. While I’m waiting on that, I’m going to have to find out what the fuck she had to do with the video. I send several emails to my tech guys at work with orders to start making lists of anyone who has access to the footage in my office, anyone who has tapped into it or has gone searching for old footage, and anyone who’s hacked into my office computer to send the video to Samantha.

  I don’t need to hear Samantha tell me that any sort of maintained relationship with Natalie, whether business or personal, would be an immediate deal-breaker for us. Strike one was not telling Sam who Natalie was that day at the office. Strike two was the party. Strike three was the video, even though I technically didn’t do anything wrong in that instance. That’s probably the only reason we’re still engaged right now.

  What I need to do is figure out what the hell is going on around us and get us through it without any more damage being done.

  15

  My back is resting against something warm and firm. There are arms around my middle and light breathing against my neck. It takes me several moments to remember where I am and everything that happened yesterday. Even once I remember, I have to glance over my shoulder to confirm Matthew is here, with me, holding me, and that our relationship is on the road to recovery. When I woke up last night, around dinnertime, Matthew was beside me, just watching me as though he couldn’t believe I was really there. I didn’t ask him what he was thinking about, but it certainly seemed emotional for him. He’d quickly offered to get dinner for us and while he was gone, I placed a phone call to Claire, who spent most of our conversation apologizing for putting off our discussion and telling me if she’d known Matthew was going to be home early, she would have left the kids with Danny and taken the chance of passing on the stomach flu to the sick patients of the hospital.

  I didn’t tell her about Mark being here or the discussion he and I had the night before Matthew’s return. There are just some things people don’t need to know, and since Matthew and I are working on things, it’s probably best to not add any fuel to the fire.

  After dinner, Matthew and I talked some more. Without any prompting from me, since I thought it went without saying, he assured me he would have no further interactions with Natalie. He told me he was having a restraining order put in place for me against her and that he would be going through his business associates in order to cut ties with her professionally. When I ventured to ask about who would go to such lengths to do this to us and why, he seemed genuinely
stumped. That’s a little disconcerting. The fact that all of this is going on around us and he has no clue as to who or why only seems to make the situation worse. But I have to trust that he’ll take care of it. And I do. I just wish people would leave us the hell alone for a change.

  A moment before I feel lips on the back of my neck, I hear Matthew’s breathing changing and I know he’s awake.

  “Morning,” he whispers huskily, his lips trailing across my skin to my ear. “Did you sleep well?”

  I murmur something in response, but when his tongue traces the shell of my ear, I have no chance of anything I say being coherent. He shuffles a little closer and I gasp as his erection presses into my lower back. “Shame we’re in a hospital,” he whispers, trailing his kisses across my jawline. “I’d love to put that to good use.”

  Giggling, I roll onto my back to find him grinning at me with his mussed hair sticking up in every conceivable direction and his eyes sparkling. “Well, assuming I’m released today…” I say leadingly.

  “Oh I’m counting on it,” he breathes before our lips come into contact. I sigh contentedly. After the past week, this is what I need—what we both need—and I realize how differently everything could have gone for us. I’m not delusional enough to believe we’ve sorted everything out, but I know we’ve gotten a hell of a good start. Groaning into my mouth as he deepens the kiss, I wonder how much more of this he can handle without going any further. Just as the thought passes through my mind, he reins in some of the desperation and eventually pulls away, moving to lie beside me again. I want to protest, but with him looking at me the way he is—like there is no other place in the world he would rather be than here—I can’t summon anything more than a slight pout. “I should probably go get us some breakfast before your doctor’s rounds start or they’re going to get an eyeful.”

  I’m willing to take our chances, but my stomach growls before I can say so. Matt grins at me. “Your daughter is hungry,” I tell him. “You might want to do something about that.”

  His eyes widen slightly. “My daughter,” he says softly, almost reverently. “I like that.”

  My eyes suddenly turn watery. “So do I.”

  He leans forward and gives me a brief kiss on the lips, then moves down slightly, lifting my shirt and pressing another kiss on my belly. “I’ll be back soon.”

  With that promise, he leaves the room and I am so very much looking forward to going home with him today. Aside from just being sick of the hospital, I’m missing my son and just want to get back to a regular routine. I’m hoping desperately the next few weeks go smoothly, especially with Thanksgiving just being around the corner. I have no clue what Matthew might have planned, though I’m suspecting we’ll be spending the day with his family, and that is not something I’m looking forward to. I haven’t seen his parents in weeks, and not since Matthew told his father about the pregnancy. While I’m certain Paul doesn’t object to another grandchildren, since he seems to dote on all of them, Tyler included, it’s probably more of an issue of me being the grandchild’s mother. As far as I’m concerned, he can get over it. I’m done letting him walk all over me and get to me like he did in the past, and I’m certainly not the young naïve farm girl I was when we first met.

  My thoughts are brought to a sudden halt when my door opens. I smile, expecting to see Matthew has returned, even though I know he went to find breakfast that doesn’t come from the hospital cafeteria and prepare a witty comment. The comment I lost, though, when I find Mark rather than Matt at the door.

  “Is it safe?” he asks, glancing around the room.

  I roll my eyes, smiling. “Yes, it’s safe. Matt just stepped out for breakfast,” I tell him.

  His own smile falters very briefly. “I hope I didn’t cause you too much trouble yesterday,” he says, walking further into the room until he’s feet from my bedside. “And I wholeheartedly apologize once again for falling asleep the way I did.”

  “It’s fine,” I assure him. “Matt was understandably upset, but he’ll get over it.”

  “Still,” Mark says. “I admire his restraint. If the situation had been reversed, I don’t know that I would have been able to refrain from breaking a couple bones.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, he says it crossed his mind, but he decided to take a walk instead.”

  He snorts a laugh. “I certainly appreciate that.” He takes a couple more steps closer, but I notice he doesn’t come within arm’s reach of me. A very small part of me is disappointed by that. “I just wanted to come by and see how you’re feeling. I expect Dr. Marsh will be by within the next couple hours with your discharge papers—from what I saw, all your labs came back clean. Your blood pressure is back to a more comfortable level.”

  I raise an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “If you’re not my doctor anymore, are you supposed to be snooping around my medical records like that?” I ask teasingly.

  His smile turns sheepish. “Technically no, but I happened to overhear a few key conversations.” He cocks his head to the side. “Are you going to report me?”

  “I probably should,” I say evenly, unable to keep from grinning at him. “But considering I can’t wait to get out of here and I haven’t heard anything today one way or the other, I’ll say thank you instead.”

  “You’re welcome,” he says quietly, his gaze turning serious again.

  I know what he’s thinking, because I’m thinking the same: is this it? The last time we see each other? The logical side of me says if I was smart it would be; Matthew’s jealous side is being put to the test right now as it is and Mark’s continued presence in my life could only make that worse. The other side of me, though, the one who feels isolated with the small amount of people with whom I regularly socialize says everyone needs more friends and I already know Mark and I have a connection. Probably the biggest concern I have with a maintained friendship with Mark is whether it could remain a friendship. I like to believe I’m strong enough to refrain from anything else, even if the feelings might be there buried deep down. But I would hate for Mark to make a move on me somewhere down the line, which would force me to end that friendship for good.

  I have to go with my gut on this, not what Matthew or Mark might want me to decide. “I was thinking we might have lunch together some time,” I say tentatively. Mark’s eyebrows rise. “You, me, and Matthew. Maybe we can all get to know each other a little better…”

  I can’t read the expression on his eyes—relief, disappointment, shock. “I’d like that,” he says rather uncertainly as though he’s wondering whether I’m joking or not. “I have to say, I wasn’t looking forward to telling you goodbye.”

  I feel the same and begin to say so, but my door opens again. This time it is Matthew. And he stops dead in his tracks as he takes in the sight before him. I imagine he’s got a very horrible sense of déjà vu as Mark and I both look at him. Matthew’s complexion pales, his jaw tenses slightly, and I see him swallow hard once. After a couple moments, he seems to snap out of it, reverting to the polite façade he adopts when he’s dealing with particularly annoying business associates. He crosses the room, giving Mark a wide berth, walks around the side of the bed, sets down the bag containing our breakfast, and proceeds to bend down over me, kissing me thoroughly.

  When he pulls away and my vision clears, I glance over to find Mark has politely looked away and arranged his features to hide his thoughts. “Hungry, baby?” he murmurs, grinning at me in a way that makes me believe he’s referring to more than food. And I know he’s, at least in part, putting on a show for Mark.

  “Matthew, this is Dr. Mark Reilly,” I say in response. Matthew’s grin widens as he realizes I’ve worked out what he’s up to. “Mark, this is—”

  Matthew puts out his hand across the bed, interrupting my introduction. “Matthew Young. Samantha’s fiancé,” he says, smiling pleasantly.

  Mark doesn’t hesitate to shake Matthew’s hand and I don’t miss how tightly they squeeze each ot
her’s hands. Men… “It’s a pleasure to you, Matthew,” Mark says when their grips loosen. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

  “Likewise,” Matthew says.

  Looking between them, it wouldn’t be surprised to find out both have forgotten I’m here at all. They seem to be locked in some testosterone-fueled showdown and I’m starting to feel the tension building between them. “So Mark says all my labs are clear and I should be released today,” I tell Matthew brightly, taking his hand and trying to get his attention diverted.

  Matthew looks down at me, beaming. “That’s great,” he says, looking back at Mark briefly. “Thank you for that.”

  “My pleasure,” Mark mutters, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. I watch him retrieve a business card, then a pen from his jacket. “This is my personal cell number, Samantha. Call anytime.” He hands the card to me and I feel Matthew’s grip increase on my hand as Mark’s fingers graze against mine as I take it. “I should get on with my rounds. Matthew, it was good to finally meet you.”

  Matthew gives a forced smile and terse nod.

  “Take care, Samantha,” Mark says softly, briefly reaching out to squeeze my shoulder. “I’ve truly enjoyed getting to know you this week.”

  Ignoring my fiancé for a moment, I smile at Mark. “Thank you,” I tell him. “For everything.”

  He gives me a wide, dimpled smile, a wink, then goes on about his day.

  The moment the door is closed, Matthew lets out a long breath and I’m sure the phrase “Dr. Dipshit” is at the tail end of that breath. I turn and give him a withering glare that makes him grin. “Is that really necessary?” I ask him as he turns away and begins to arrange our breakfast on the table.

  “Probably not,” he concedes. “But at least I waited until he was out of the room. That’s got to be worth something, right?”

  I decide not to answer, slipping out of bed and sitting in the chair Matthew pulls out for me. “This looks wonderful,” I tell him, eyeing the spread of pancakes, eggs, bacon, toast, and orange juice he’s brought. “Thank you.”