Young Truths (Young Series) (26 page)

He huffs a laugh, tightening his arm around me. “Well, we’ve always known that’s true,” he says with an edge of pride. “I feel like I’ve neglected you.”

His admission is a surprise. True, he’s been preoccupied lately to the point the only time we have alone together is when we’re asleep, but it’s been understandable. We have a seven-year-old who is exhausting in and of himself, a newborn who refuses to sleep more than a couple hours a night, and the outside world to contend with. I miss our time together, just laughing and talking with him, or just being held by him, like right now. “Please don’t feel that way,” I say to him, knowing he’s starting to beat himself up over this. “You’ve had a lot on your mind and so have I.”

“No excuse,” he argues. “You should come first. And only a horrible, neglectful husband would ignore you. I’m sorry.”

I kiss his chest, then look up at him. “You’re forgiven,” I tell him, even though I still don’t think there’s anything to forgive. “Honestly, I’ve been more worried about you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Me?” he asks in surprise.

I nod. “I’m worried this might all become too much for you. I mean, I know you and Lucy weren’t exactly close, but you admittedly loved her once and you just found her body in a lake behind your house.”

“And it’s very terrible,” he says quietly. “She wasn’t my favorite person in the world, but that’s not something I would want to see happen to anybody. And call it heartless if you want, but I’m not going to let her death run my life anymore than it needs to; my biggest concern—my
only
concern—is you and our son and our daughter. The rest of the world can go to shit, and a lot of it has, but as long as you three are with me, I’m perfectly fine.”

I watch him closely, searching for any sign that he’s just hiding what he’s really feeling, but there’s nothing but sincerity in his eyes. “But you’ll tell me if it does become too much?” I ask in a whisper.

“Always,” he murmurs, pulling me up for a kiss that magically wipes away everything that’s happened lately. I can’t remember when we last had this sort of kiss where we could just completely lose ourselves. Well, not completely, since doctor’s orders dictate losing ourselves that much won’t happen for a few more weeks. And just as I think it, Matthew groans and pulls away. “You know what I want to do?”

Smirking, I look up at him with a raised eyebrow. “I can think of a few things.”

He snorts a laugh, shaking his head. “Well, yeah, but not what I was referring to.” He pulls me against his chest again. “I want to take you and the kids away. Not immediately, of course, but when it’s okay to take Olivia on more than a daytrip, I think we all need some time to just sit and relax and...” He waves his hand in the air as though he hopes to grasp the word he’s searching for. “...just
be
... Then when we come back, we can start working on how we want to rebuild the house. And you can start taking over at the bookstore...”

Surprisingly, that all sounds perfect. “I like that,” I tell him as he reaches over me to switch off the light. He curls up with me. “I love you.”

I can feel his smile against the back of my neck. “I love you, too,” he mouths against my skin.

The next couple weeks are surprisingly calm. I’m not delusional or naïve enough to believe the trouble surrounding our lives has managed to sort itself out while we locked ourselves away in our apartment, only going out to take our son to school or to pick up dinner, but I’m perfectly happy to pretend. True to his word, Matthew has decided to stay close to home. Most of his time is spent behind his computer screen or on work-related phone calls, but he’s here when I need help or just a bit of rest from the baby. I’m very much enjoying having him nearby and I almost wish he didn’t have to go back to work.

Of course, we have our moments when we want to wring the other’s neck—it’s impossible to be in close quarters with someone, even someone you love more than anything, without some sort of tension. We’ve sorted out our minor disagreements relatively quickly and peace was generally restored. Though I think he began to regret his decision to work from home on Wednesday when he was on a video conference in the kitchen while Olivia decided to have a crying fit. She hadn’t slept at all the night before and Matthew had spent most of it with her in the nursery, holding her and singing or talking to her. We learned relatively quickly that nothing calms our daughter more effectively than sleeping against her daddy’s naked chest. The same thing works on me, actually.

Anyway, while Matthew was having his video conference, I had to bring Olivia with me into the kitchen to get myself a glass of water, effectively ruining the business atmosphere my husband had been attempting to set. Luckily for him the company he was conferencing with was made up of middle-aged women who went from stern-faced and unflappable to cooing over Olivia within seconds. Annoyed as he was at the interruption, he seemed pleased with the outcome.

I’ve even spent some time at the bookstore. I’m still getting used to the idea of owning the place and not seeing Bonnie whenever I go in there. She’s everywhere in that store and it’s going to take time before I can spend more than an hour there without tearing up. Matthew seems to have the same trouble, though he hides it much better. Neither of us has had much time to think about Bonnie since her funeral and for that, I feel guilty. She’s done so much for me—and for Matthew—over the years and I don’t know that I ever told her thank you. My mind wanders back to the day she visited me in the hospital, the day after Olivia was born, when she handed over the bookstore to me. I’d barely been able to wrap myself around the idea of what she was giving me and of course I thought there would be more time with her, so I didn’t think to say anything.

We’ve only talked about her a handful of times, mostly in the middle of the night after we’ve fed or comforted Olivia. I always knew Matthew and Bonnie had a close connection—more than once, he’s referred to her as his second mother. What I didn’t know is that Bonnie was apparently instrumental in escalating our relationship. I still smile whenever I think about one of the many nights Matthew and I lay in bed, just talking.

“She realized I loved you before I did,” he whispers against my forehead as I curl into his side. “The very first day she met you, she knew. I thought she was crazy, of course. You were off wandering the bookshelves and she was talking about how great it was to see me so happy and in love. The more we talked, the more I realized she might be right. And then you looked over at me and I could have died happily right there on the spot. If she hadn’t said any of that to me, I have no idea how long it would have taken me to realize what you meant to me, if I ever did.”

The emotion in his voice is thick. “Always knew she had good taste,” I mutter, grinning against his chest.

He chuckles. “That she did,” he agrees. “She adored you the second she saw you, just like I did. I realized that day how right she was and that I probably fell in love with you that day at Chet’s. I was just too scared to admit it.”

That conversation unsurprisingly led to a make out session that left us both hot and bothered and almost throwing my doctor’s orders out the window. But as always, Matthew put the brakes on before we got to the good stuff. I don’t know about him, but I’ve been counting down the seconds until we can do more than a bit of touchy-feely and I’ve even started planning out exactly how things will go when we get there.

As for the other events in our life, we’re taking things one day at a time. Matthew hasn’t been visited by the police again, though that doesn’t seem to mean he’s any less a suspect in Lucy’s death. They still can’t explain his fingerprints in her apartment and if I was even slightly less secure in my marriage, I’d be thinking the worst of him. The couple times Marcus has come by the apartment to talk to Matthew about the investigation, I was surprised to find my husband so insistent that I sit in on their discussions. Normally, he’d want to keep those meetings to himself and give me the edited versions later; he has no idea what it means to me that he’s involving me. Or maybe he does and that’s why he’s doing it

Marcus has told us that Lucy’s neighbors haven’t been able to confirm seeing Matthew at her apartment. Naturally, this brought out several smartass remarks from my husband, none of which would have made him friends with the police investigating the murder if they were overheard. Our other immediate concern is Frank Marone’s apparent return. He hasn’t been seen since Matthew spotted him outside the church the day of Lucy’s wake, and while that could be a source of comfort for some people, it seems to set us on edge to the point Marcus actually suggests we get out of town for a week or two. We would still need security to stick with us wherever we go, but at least we can attempt to get some semblance of rest and relaxation.

On Matthew’s urging, we’re going to visit my brother and sister in Iowa during Tyler’s spring break. My family was unable to be with us when Olivia was born due to farming obligations, so they haven’t seen her outside of pictures yet. It’s the perfect reason to get away and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say Matthew is actually excited about the prospect of a vacation. He hasn’t taken one since last summer when we joined Claire and Danny on their vacation to Cape Cod.

In the meantime, we’re settling into a whole new routine that involves our daughter. Matthew ran out of excuses to not go into work, so every morning, he gets up, gets Tyler ready for school, cooks us breakfast, and then leaves for the day. During the hours Olivia naps, I occupy myself with cleaning or reading or even doing a bit of work for the bookstore—schedules for the employees, all of whom decided to stay on after Bonnie’s death; book orders and shipments. In the evenings, we have dinner as a family, watch television or play games until it’s time for bed, and start all over again the next morning.

When Olivia starts sleeping longer, I decide to spend more time at the bookstore. Sitting around the apartment is starting to drive me a little crazy and I really need something to occupy my time, even if I’m only keeping busy for a couple hours. The whole town has come by to see me and my daughter at some point so there’s been no shortage of socialization opportunities, but the one person I’ve expected to see hasn’t been in contact at all. I’ve thought about going to Mark’s apartment myself, just to make sure he’s okay, but I haven’t had the chance to do so yet. I imagine he’s been trying to keep himself busy with work after losing both Bonnie and Jessica in such a close timeframe.

And as though my thoughts alone have summoned him, I look up when the bookstore door opens to find Mark strolling in. He looks tired and strained. Stubble covers his normally smooth jawline and only accentuates the black shadows beneath his eyes. He glances around for a moment before finding me and smiles wanly. “Hi,” he says quietly, approaching the counter.

“Hi,” I reply, watching him in concern. “How are you?”

He shrugs, leaning forward to rest his arms on the counter, his eyes traveling down to the floor to where Olivia is fast asleep in her car seat. “She’s gotten big,” he comments softly. “Looks more and more like you every day, I suppose?”

I smile fondly at my daughter, nodding. “She does,” I agree. “And she’s finally starting to get into a more normal sleep pattern.”

Mark nods, his brow furrowed slightly.

“Haven’t seen you for a while,” I say pointedly. “I was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten about me.”

He straightens up and smiles roguishly. “That’s just not possible,” he says huskily. “Does this mean you’ve missed me?”

“Admittedly, I’ve been a little concerned about you,” I reply tentatively, feeling a little uncomfortable at the look he’s giving me. “How are you holding up?”

Sighing, he looks around for a moment before meeting my gaze again. “I’ve been better,” he says shortly. “And I’m sorry if I worried you. I’ve had a lot going on lately.”

I nod understandingly. “Have you spoken to Jessica at all?” I ask.

An array of emotions passes through his eyes too quickly for me to identify them. “No,” he says. “She’s not taking my calls and I’ve sort of given up.”

My brow furrows. “Why did you breakup again?” I ask. Though I’ve only met Jessica a couple times, something about Mark’s reasoning that she left him because he wanted to stay with his dying aunt rather than spend time away with her family doesn’t seem... right.

He shrugs unhappily. “Between my work schedule and dealing with what’s left of Bonnie’s estate and familial obligations, I apparently don’t have enough time to spend with her,” he mutters. “Honestly, I think she’s interested in someone else.”

“Oh.” My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I haven’t had much time to dwell on it,” he says indifferently. After a moment, he changes tracks completely. “How’s Tyler?”

I’m a little thrown off by his mood change, but I don’t linger. “Tyler is great.” I smile. “He’s taken up his role as big brother much easier than I thought he would. He still has his complaints, of course—a week after we brought Olivia home, he came down to breakfast and informed us that we need to take her back to the hospital. Matt asked why and Tyler replied that she’s been crying all week, so of course she must be defective.”

Mark chuckles. “I assume he’s changed his tune?”

“Mostly,” I answer. “He makes sure we know about his displeasure if he thinks we’re paying Olivia more attention. The other day, he threw the mother of all tantrums before Matt took him to school. And of course, all Matt could do was stare at him in shock; Tyler’s never thrown any real tantrums in front of him. Turns out, he didn’t like the flavor pudding cup I put in his lunchbox.”