Young Truths (Young Series) (34 page)

I probably should have been a little more supportive of him as José pushed his way through the cows, head-butting Matthew in the back of the legs. He’d fallen to the ground with a whimper of pain as José turned his t-shirt into a midnight snack. Whenever Matthew attempted to stand up, José knocked him back to the gr
ound. Only when I got my hysterical laughter under control was I able to rescue him from the goat’s attack. I took José back to his shack and made sure the door was shut and locked this time, then returned to my husband who was leaned against the fence, his shirt in tatters, his back covered in grass and mud and probably a lot of other stuff I don’t want to think too much about. When I managed to help him limp to the shower, I winced sympathetically at the bruising already visible on the back of his legs and lower back. Since then, he’s been cursing the very thought of goats while I’ll cherish the memory for the rest of my life as the one time Matthew was unable to be the all-knowing expert at something.

“I’d ask what the two of you have been doing to cause him to limp like that, but I probably don’t want to know,” Lisa says, sitting beside me and handing me a glass of iced tea.

I smirk. “Let’s just say not everyone in the world is susceptible to his charms,” I reply.

“The people who aren’t susceptible are probably in the minority,” she says, grinning. “Seriously, if I haven’t been in love with your brother since junior high, you’d probably have some major competition.”

“Luckily for you, you’re in love with my brother, then,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her in mock-threat.

“Even if I wasn’t, Matthew would never look twice at me. Not when he’s spending all his time watching you. Seeing the two of you together this week...” She shakes her head slowly, smiling. “I envy what the two of you have. I mean, I wouldn’t trade Jimmy for anything, but he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body. His idea of a romantic gesture is doing the dinner dishes on impulse.”

I laugh. “Sounds about right,” I say ruefully. “He got that from our dad. As for Matt and me... We’re not perfect.”

“Who is?” she retorts. “But ignoring all the bad, you two finding each other again after so long apart is like something out of a sappy romance novel. It’s sweet and wonderful, and I’m just happy to see you happy again. We worried about you for a long time. It seemed like you were just going through the motions with Tom.”

“I was,” I admit quietly, felling almost ashamed to be admitting this to someone other than Matthew. “I think I’d hoped if I went through the motions enough, I might actually start believing it was real.”

“If you and Tom had stayed together, you’d never have been truly happy. Hell, he’d only be
en happy because he was ignoring how
un
happy you were.” Lisa shakes her head. “He’s still trying to convince himself the two of you were the perfect couple and Matt is the evil bastard who tore you apart.”

I wince at that. “Have you seen him?”
I ask, looking down at my hand as I twist my wedding ring around my finger.

“A couple times. He visited for Christmas—his parents invited me and the kids since Jimmy was at your wedding. Again, sorry I couldn’t be there. Emily caught the flu that had been going around and she could barely walk without throwing up; I didn’t think a flight across the country would make things any better.”

“No, it’s fine,” I assure her hurriedly.

“Anyway, I was the lucky one who got to tell everyone where Jimmy was and why. Tom overheard me telling his mom and I’ve never seen anyone lose color more quickly than he did. He spent the rest of the day sitting in the corner drinking whatever he could get his hands on. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty for what happened with you and Tom—you did what was best for you and Tyler—but he hasn’t been the same since you two split up. He’s withdrawn and distracted. Rumor has it his restaurant chain is in some
financial trouble because he’s not focusing on it like he should be. If he doesn’t get his head out of the clouds soon, he’s going to lose everything.”

She may not have meant to make me feel guilty for ending things with Tom the way I did, but I do. Everything happened so quickly last summer that I nearly got whiplash and didn’t have time to make sure everyone involved was okay. The couple of times I spoke to Tom after he left New York, he wasn’t himself. He was withdrawn, like Lisa said, and though he assured me he and I would always be friends, I could feel my relationship with him shattering along with his heart
. I sometimes think I led Tom on for the five years Tyler and I were with him, and it wouldn’t surprise me to learn he agrees. Tom was there for me when I most needed him and dragged me back to life kicking and screaming, and I repaid him by dropping him like a hot potato the moment Matthew showed back up in my life. It was one of Tom’s biggest concerns when Matthew informed us we’d all be going back to New York together and I’d spent so much time telling him he was wrong. Turns out, I lied.

The only reason Tom left New York was because he ran his mouth in a bar to people he shouldn’t have been talking to at all. If he hadn’t, chances
are you and Tyler would still be with him. And you’d be more miserable than ever over losing Matt again.

“I love seeing Tyler with Matt,” Lisa goes on, her eyes focused on my husband and son. “They’re so good together.”

I nod in agreement. “They really are,” I say. “I always knew Matt would make an incredible dad and those two adore each other—Matt walks on water for that little boy and it’s going to be the exact same with Olivia.”

We both look down at my daughter who has decided she’s done eating in exchange for naptime. “Well, I need to start getting things ready for the party tonight,” Lisa says, getting to her feet.

“Let me put her down and I’ll give you a hand.”

I throw Matthew and Tyler another fond expression, smiling at how Tyler has tackled his father to the ground and is now trying to tickle him before I follow my sister-in-law inside.

After all the parties I’ve been forced to attend to by my father over the years, I’m pretty accustomed to feigning smiles and coming up with small talk. My father’s parties are usually full of the rich and powerful or people looking to kiss enough ass to get something out of him while this party is much more down to earth. It doesn’t stop me feeling like my family and I are some sort of attraction for them to gawk at and whisper about when they think we’re not looking.

Samantha seems to be enjoying some aspects, though, particularly the ones where she has the opportunity to show off me and our children to old high school friends. I’d met a few of them years ago, but I honestly couldn’t connect pictures with faces since most of my interest back then was centered on the girl who was introducing me to the girls she’d been friends with and boys I suspected she once had crushes on but didn’t look twice at her. Idiots, the lot of them. Then again, them not paying the slightest bit attention to Samantha worked out in my favor. By the time I’d met her, she might have been already taken, and I probably would have embarrassed myself by chasing around a girl who was in a serious committed relationship.

Not that it matters at this point. She’s with me and the pride she takes when introducing—or reintroducing—me to her friends wipes all of that out of my mind. The expression whenever she looks at me suggests she can’t believe how lucky she is and how deeply and fully she loves me. It’s enough to knock the breath out of me every single time. For once, she seems truly happy and relaxed when I’m feeling exactly the same way, and I seem to have forgotten how wonderful that is.

My good mood lasts until around three hours after the party has begun. Jimmy and I are debating on whether to restart the grill to soak up some of the alcohol that’s flowing all around us when another car pulls up to join the others belonging to about ninety percent of the town.

“Shit,” Jimmy breathes, looking between me and the car. “I was not expecting this...”

Sipping from my beer bottle, I turn around to figure out what he’s so concerned about and find myself draining my drink in a couple gulps. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter.

“I didn’t know he was going to be here,” Jimmy insists
emphatically. “He’s supposed to be away on business this week, but I’ll bet anything his mommy mentioned Samantha is in town and he cancelled all those plans.”

Rolling my eyes, I drop my beer bottle into the trash can. “I’d rather not take that bet,” I reply darkly. “I need to find Sam before he does.”

As Tom Saunders gets out of his car, I enter the house where Samantha is talking to her friend Jess about some weekend when they were sixteen during which they each told their parents they were having a sleepover at the other’s house. They’d actually snuck to Des Moines to a concert. I make a mental note of the band name to make fun of my wife at a later date. She glances up to me, grinning, but her eyes look past me very briefly and the expression slips. I know who she’s seeing and now she’s looking back at me uncertainly. She wants to talk to Tom and she wants my permission or my blessing or something before she does it. I’m not entirely sure why she thinks she needs to ask me to do anything, but if it’s what she needs... I nod minutely, smiling tightly.

Excusing herself from Jess, Samantha stands up, shooting a brief glance to where Tyler is playing in a corner with some of the kids from town then to the other side where Olivia is fast asleep in a Pack N Play. Taking a shuddering breath, she approaches me.

“Want me to come with you?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

She shakes her head. “No, I should do this alone,” she replies nervously, glancing back out the front door where Saunders is coming up the front porch stairs.

“Okay,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be nearby if you need me.”

Shooting me a tight smile, she nods, walking past me and heading out the front door. As much as I want to follow her, if for no other reason than to ensure Saunders doesn’t upset her, I distract myself by rejoining Jimmy, now in the kitchen piling a plate with hamburgers and hotdog
s to grill. Neither of us speaks as we head out the backdoor, though I know he’s surprised that I didn’t remain at my wife’s side while she talks with her ex. Jimmy didn’t seem particularly pleased to see Saunders pull up to the house, but the fact that he didn’t immediately jump into protective older brother mode sets me at ease. If he believed Saunders to be a danger to Samantha in any way, he wouldn’t have hesitated to demand he leave.

Forcing myself to be patient and to know Samantha can take care of herself, I accept the beer Jimmy hands me and wait for her to come find me.

Stepping out onto the front porch, I can’t remember ever being so nervous to see Tom. He stops in his tracks when he sees me and we spend a few moments taking in each other’s appearances. He looks so drastically different than the last time I saw him. Tired. Older. Tom’s always taken care of himself, but it seems he’s let that slide in the last several months. He’s skinnier than I ever remember him being, almost to the point of being gaunt. He doesn’t look as though he’s slept at all since I last saw him.
And he’s never been the type to have more than a day’s worth of stubble on his face; it looks as though he hasn’t shaved in a week. I can’t help but believe he looks like this because of me.

“Hi,” I whisper tentatively.

“Hi,” he says hoarsely, slowly climbing the stairs of the porch. He stops a couple feet away from me as though he’s uncertain what he should do next. He glances around briefly. “Are we allowed to talk or am I going to get my ass kicked for breathing in your vicinity?”

I huff a laugh and roll my eyes. “No, it’s fine,” I assure him. “How’ve you been?”

“Terrible,” he replies matter-of-factly as I lead him towards the chairs on the end of the porch. “You?”

I flinch at his answer. “I’ve been okay,” I say.

He studies me closely when we sit. “I hear congratulations are in order,” he informs me quietly. “Wedding and a baby since Christmas. Congrats.”

The sarcasm lacing his tone is surprising; Tom has always been a believer that sarcasm
is rude and something to be looked down upon. It was one of the many reasons he and Matthew never hit it off. “I’d say thank you, but something tells me that wasn’t completely sincere.”

“You expect it to be sincere when less than a month after we break up, you’re with him again?” Tom asks incredulously. “Jesus, Samantha! Something that I’ve wanted for five years, you just hand him on a silver platter. I should have known when I proposed and you couldn’t give me an answer that I’d never be enough for you. But I really believed we’d get there eventually.”

We’re going to get right into it, then... “So did I,” I whisper. “Tom, I’m so sorry.”

“How old’s the baby?” he asks suddenly.

“Um,” I say, surprised. “Eight weeks.” Immediately, I know why he’s asking and that he’s doing the math in his head. Even in the dark, I see realization dawning and I know I need to nip this in the bud right now. “Don’t, Tom.”

“Don’t what?” he snaps. “It’s a little suspicious, isn’t it? I mean, you and I...”

“She isn’t yours,” I say, trying to keep my voice quiet but firm. The last thing I need is someone overhearing this conversation and jumping to conclusions. “You know it’s not possible.”

His eyes widen at me. “Why? Because of some condoms and spermicide? Samantha, you’re smart enough to know that stuff isn’t perfect. If something really wanted to get by, it could have. And if I recall, that night at Young’s, we only used a condom.”