“Oh,” I respond, trying to hide my complete shock at his words. “I wasn’t sure you’d remembered.”
He smiles a little. “Of course I did,” he says softly. “Even if Claire hadn’t reminded me yesterday, I’ve got it on my calendar.”
“Oh.”
One of his eyebrows rises. “Is that a good ‘oh’ or a bad ‘oh’?” he asks tentatively.
It’s this moment that makes me realize he believed his drive out here would be for nothing, that I would turn down his offer when I intend to do the exact opposite. I smile. “It’s definitely a good ‘oh,” I tell him. “I wasn’t really looking forward to the drive or going to the appointment on my own.”
He looks relieved. “So if you were dreading it, why didn’t you mention it last night?”
I don’t have an answer to that. Maybe I wanted to see if he said something about it first. Maybe I didn’t want to impose on him. I really don’t know. “I probably should have,” I say quietly. “We ended up talking about other things.”
Nodding as though this makes absolute sense to him, while it seems ridiculously weak even to my ears, he accepts my excuse. “Besides,” he says, taking a step closer to me, “I will take any reason to see my children or spend time with you. Well, that and I’m not particularly comfortable with you driving in this storm.”
My mouth drops open with indignation. “You do remember I grew up in the Midwest and navigated my way through blizzards every winter, right?” I shoot back at him.
He grins at me. “I do remember that,” he says, reaching out a finger to tap the bottom of my jaw so I close my mouth. I glare at him, mostly playfully. “But whereas Iowa consisted of straight flatlands, the real world consists of steep hills, icy curves, and winding roads.”
I’m really glaring at him now. “The real world, Matt? Really?”
Chuckling, he raises his hands in defense. “Hey, we didn’t all grow up driving tractors through the snow,” he says, laughing as he backs away right before I take a swipe at him with the back of my hand.
In a practiced move, he grabs my outstretched hand and pulls me towards him. My automatic response is to put my free hand up on his shoulder and tilt my head up, waiting for his kiss. We freeze, though, realizing how quickly and easily we’ve fallen into old habits. This is probably another reason why we could never really be happy with anybody else; even with so much keeping us apart, our personalities pull us together like magnets.
I let my hand slide off his shoulder and down his chest before letting it fall to my side, and I block out the disappointment that crosses his expression. And I swallow back my own disappointment, wishing this entire situation was resolved so I don’t have to see the hurt in his eyes. “We should probably go,” I say quietly.
He nods, sliding his hands into his pockets and following me towards the living room where I tell Claire we’re leaving. She looks between us and frowns as though she knows with only a glance that something isn’t right. I give her a tight smile, then quickly tell Tyler to behave—I might as well have not said anything for all the attention he pays me—and head into the front hall where Matthew is waiting with my coat which he slips over my shoulders without even waiting for my permission. The moment the front door is open, I’m very glad he showed up this morning. I can barely see a couple feet in front of me as we walk to his car—and I’ve abandoned all pride by reaching for his hand and holding it in a death grip as I hit a small ice patch on the pathway. He only chuckles and wraps an arm around my waist to keep me stable. Belatedly, once I’m in his car, I wonder how much of that was actually us just wanting to be near each other. Then I realize it doesn’t matter.
Last night, during my fitful sleep, I decided I’m done with this situation. Neither Matthew nor I am happy right now and I know Tyler is getting anxious to be back home with his father, where he knows he belongs. I’m not even sure what the point of all this is anymore. What am I accomplishing? Every morning, Tyler and I are up at the crack of dawn to eat breakfast and drive an hour and a half so I can get him to school, then myself to the bookstore. It seemed like a small sacrifice at first, but with the weather getting worse and my pregnancy getting further along, the risks seem worse than whatever point I’ve been trying to make. As we drive in silence, I glance over at Matthew, finding a frown on his face when before the entire ride to the doctor’s office was filled with laughs and conversation and he was all smiles.
Once we’re on a road that’s actually been cleared and salted and Matthew is a little more relaxed in his confidence we’re not going to slide off into a ditch, I make a split-second decision to reach over for the hand that rests on his thigh. His gaze shoots over to me immediately and he’s shocked at the contact, but gives me a slow smile I haven’t seen since our coffee shop date almost nine years ago. He squeezes my hand and sighs in contentment.
“Have you thought about names at all?” he asks quietly a few minutes later.
I rest my head back on my seat, turning it to look at him. His eyes are focused on the road, but his head is tilted in my direction, telling me I’ve got his full attention. “Not really,” I admit. “You?”
“A little,” he tells me almost reluctantly.
I smile. Of course he has. With Tyler, I think Matthew bought every baby naming book on the market and spent an entire weekend going through every single one with four colors of highlighters to rank his favorites and the ones that were absolutely not an option. We didn’t actually settle on Tyler Matthew until a week or so before I went into labor. Part of me has wondered if giving our son a name was what prompted such an early birth and I’ve been a bit superstitious about choosing a name for our daughter, no matter how ridiculous I know my theory to be. “And what have you come up with?” I ask him.
He shoots me a sidelong, hesitant glance. “What do you think about Olivia?” he asks, his brow furrowing as he watches the road.
I tense slightly. “Olivia?” I repeat softly. He nods fractionally, his eyes darting between me and the road. It doesn’t take a genius to know why he’s nervous about his name suggestion. Olivia was my mother’s name and one I don’t think I’ve ever considered using as a name for my child. Matthew knows what he’s suggesting and what it means to me that he’s thought of it for me. It’s like scheduling our wedding at Christmastime when Christmas was something I haven’t really looked forward to since before my mother died because it was always her favorite holiday. It’s a tribute to her, making sure her memory survives. My heart swells with love for the man sitting beside me and tears well in my eyes that he’s so considerate and thoughtful and wonderful.
He curses softly and I look over to find his eyes watching me with concern. “Sam, it was just a suggestion,” he says quickly. “If you’d rather not, it’s fine.”
I shake my head, wiping the tears from my eyes. “No, it’s fine,” I choke out. “Stupid hormones.” His expression clears slightly, though he still looks worried that he’s upset me. “Olivia is a perfect choice. I’m glad you thought of it.”
Smiling in relief, he squeezes my fingers in his. “You are?” I nod and he beams. “So have we settled on a name?”
I smile back and nod. “I think we have,” I reply softly.
His response is to lift my hand to his lips and press them to my knuckles.
The rest of the drive to the doctor’s office is relatively uneventful and the initial tension between us has dissipated. Matthew pulls his car into a parking spot, gets out, and before I’ve even taken off my seatbelt, he’s opening the door and holding out a hand to help me out. “Always the gentleman,” I murmur as he continues to hold my hand on our way inside. He just smiles.
Luckily we don’t have to sit for long before my name is being called and we’re being led into an examination room. The nurse does the routine parts of checking my blood pressure and other vital signs, then hands me a hospital gown to change into while we await the doctor’s arrival. To my surprise, Matthew offers to step out of the room while I change; normally
he would be offering to help or settling himself in the chair to watch the show. I know this is a byproduct of our breakup and I haven’t yet told him of my decision to fix things between us. To his surprise, I strip down as I would for any other doctor’s visit, perfectly aware of the hungry gaze with which he’s watching me. I almost expect to see him drooling and I certainly can’t deny it feels good to know at least this part of our relationship hasn’t changed—clearly he still finds me attractive, even if I’m getting fatter by the minute. He shakes himself out of his daze as I hop up onto the exam table and we wait for the doctor.
The excitement is building again at the thought that we’ll soon be seeing how our daughter has grown since my last checkup. My only concern at this point is that I haven’t actually felt her moving yet. At least not significantly. I know she’s in there and relatively healthy since my appetite has only grown over the weeks and there have been subtle signs that everything is fine. Still, I can’t shake the anxiety.
“What’s that look on your face for?” Matthew asks softly, reaching for my hand.
I turn my head towards him. “I’m just thinking how much I hope everything is okay,” I admit in a whisper.
With a reassuring smile in place, he puts his free hand over my belly and begins rubbing softly. “Everything is beyond okay,” he tells me firmly. “You’ll see.”
I give him a tight smile and decide not to press the issue.
“Do you have anything planned for today?” he asks, running his thumb across my knuckles in a way he knows will help me relax. “After this, I mean.”
“Well, I was going to help Bonnie out at the bookstore, but she said yesterday if the weather is bad, she won’t even be opening. Aside from that, nothing,” I report.
He nods thoughtfully. “Would you like to have lunch with me? I thought we could grab a pizza or something and if you have to work, I can take you in rather than drive you back to Claire’s just for you to turn around and drive back out here.”
“I would love to have lunch with you,” I tell him, smiling. “Though I have to wonder if this counts as our date.”
Snorting a laugh, he shakes his head. “Hardly,” he responds as though it should have been obvious. “I’ve got much grander plans for tomorrow night.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And what might those be?” I ask suspiciously.
He only has time to smirk before there is a knock on the door and the doctor enters. “Good morning,” she says, smiling at us. “How are we today?”
“Very well,” Matthew answers for both of us. I have a feeling he’s speaking about more than just our current state of being.
“Glad to hear it,” Dr. Miller says, smiling as she sits on a stool opening my chart. “And Samantha, how is everything progressing?”
“Pretty well, I think,” I reply. “Most of the morning sickness has stopped. I still have the occasional queasiness to some foods. Other than that, I don’t seem to be having any problems.”
“Are you sleeping enough?”
I hesitate, my eyes darting over to Matthew briefly. I don’t want him to feel responsible for my honest answer. “Probably not as much as I should be,” I say quietly. “But more than I did at this stage with my son.”
“Excellent,” the doctor says briskly. “And as I’m sure the two of you have realized, Samantha, you are approaching the stage of pregnancy when you gave birth to your son. I had a couple in-depth looks at your charts and from what I’m seeing, there should not be a repeat of what happened during your first pregnancy. I’m not going to give you any guarantees, because babies tend to keep their own schedules. With your last pregnancy, there could have been any number of reasons why your son was born early. The combination of the prenatal vitamins and the blood pressure medicine prescribed to you, I believe, may have been the leading cause. It’s why I’ve been so careful to monitor your medication intake this time around, particularly after your recent hospitalization.”
I feel Matthew’s hand tense in mine and I know he still blames himself for that. “Could the hospitalization cause her to go into labor early?” Matthew asks quietly.
“As long as it doesn’t happen again, she’s going to be just fine,” Dr. Miller assures us. “If anything was going to happen, it would have happened then. Right now, everything looks great and I expect this little girl to make her appearance in March as expected.”
Matthew nods and relaxes significantly at her words, and even manages to give me a smile.
“So shall we have a look and see how this little one is fairing?” Dr. Miller suggests, closing my chart and standing from her stool. Matthew and I grin at her in response, and she chuckles as she pulls the ultrasound machine towards me. Reflexively, I lift the top of my hospital gown and she spreads the cold gel on my slightly protruding belly. With the wand in hand, she flips on the monitor and begins the scan. Matthew pulls his chair closer to me for a better view, sliding his free arm behind my neck so I can sit up a little more.
For a few moments, I’m holding my breath as the doctor searches for our daughter. I start to get really worried when her brow furrows and she moves closer to the screen to better see what she’s looking at, but before I can voice my concerns, I hear a very rapid heartbeat. At first I think it might be my own; one glance at the screen confirms it’s my baby’s. With a little pressure, Dr. Miller has convinced her to roll over and show her features. There is a clear outline of her face—her nose, eyes, chin, and mouth—and her arms are raised towards the ultrasound wand as though she’s protesting the intrusion to her rest and relaxation.
“Already a princess,” Matthew murmurs wryly. I look over at him and find his eyes glazed over and a smile on his face. He darts his eyes towards me very briefly before turning back to the screen. “Princess Olivia.”
I chuckle softly, squeezing his fingers.
“Everything looks good,” Dr. Miller observes, moving the wand around. “She’s developing just like we would hope. Have you felt her moving yet?”
I shake my head. “Not really,” I respond. “If I do, I’m in the middle of doing something and can’t stop and enjoy it.”
The doctor chuckles at my sulking tone. “Before you know it, she’ll be moving so much you won’t get a chance to miss it.”
After a few more minutes of switching angles to get a better view of the baby’s development, Dr. Miller turns off the machine and tells us she’ll have the printed images ready when we leave. She further instructs me to keep my stress levels down and to keep doing everything I’m doing, since it’s clear this baby is perfectly content where she is right now. When she leaves, I wipe the gel off my belly, get dressed again, and turn to find Matthew staring at the blank ultrasound machine screen.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask him softly.
His head snaps up to meet my gaze and for a moment I think he’s going to smile and tell me something inconsequential. “Just realizing how worried I’ve been about how everything going on has affected you and the baby,” he replies. I move to stand in front of him, leaning against the exam table. “All this drama could have had a much different result and you could have lost the baby and it would have been my fault and you never would have forgiven me the way you seem to be forgiving me.”
I sigh. Of course this is what he’s thinking… “But I haven’t lost the baby, everything is perfect, and the doctor told us herself we’re doing everything right,” I remind him.
His brow furrows slightly. “You’ve done everything right,” he amends. “I keep fucking everything up.”
“Yes,” I agree, “but last night made up for quite a bit, Matt. All I’ve wanted was to know that you actually want our relationship to work and that you’re willing to fight for us instead of roll over and give up. I want us back. I want us to be like we were before, or at least a fraction of that. Now I’m seeing that you want it just as much. That means everything to me, Matt.”
Slowly, he stands up in front of me and though I can’t read his exp
ression, I know his intent. He places his hands on either side of me on the exam table, his eyes watching me intently as he moves in further. “There is nothing in the world I want more than to fix this between us,” he says quietly. “And if that means driving almost four hours through a blizzard to take you to a doctor’s appointment, I will do that every day for the rest of my life.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” I whisper right before he leans in and presses his lips to mine. Automatically my hands rest on his waist and I’ve very vaguely thankful that I’m leaning against the table or I’d probably be a crumbled mess on the floor. He kisses me slowly and thoroughly, and it almost feels like our very first kiss that took place in a coffee shop parking lot at midnight in Iowa.
A knock on the door jolts us both back to reality. Matthew jumps back, his eyes wide and his breathing erratic. I’ve probably got a very startled expression on my face as my heart beats rapidly in my chest. The door opens partway and a nurse pops her head in, her eyes darting between us. “Dr. Miller asked me to let you know your ultrasound images are at reception,” she says, her lips twitching as she probably rightly figures out what we were doing. I manage a nod and a squeaky thank you, and she closes the door with a soft click.
Several moments pass until I hear Matthew snort a laugh. I look at him incredulously, which only causes him to burst out laughing. Glaring at him, I try to maintain an annoyed expression, but the entire situation forces me to join in on his amusement and within a few seconds, I’m laughing along with him.
“Think that’s the first time they’ve caught people like that?” he asks, grinning at me.
I roll my eyes, unable to not grin back. “Matt, it’s not even the first time they’ve caught us,” I remind him. “Though if memory serves correctly, last time I hadn’t even gotten dressed fully.”
He smirks at the memory. “True,” he concedes. “I still maintain that was your fault, doing that little shimmying strip tease thing…”
“That wasn’t so much a strip tease as it was trying to get my jeans to fit over the baby bump caused by your son,” I grumble, grabbing my purse and following him out of the exam room.
Young Revelations (Young Series) Page 40
