Chapter 8: iConfessions (updated spelling and grammar)
Original A/N: Thank you for your kind words! READ ON, MY FAVORITE PEOPLE!
FREDDIE POV:
"FREDDIKINS!" My mother's voice boomed as she lunged at me, nearly knocking me off balance in her fervent embrace. "Oh, I was beside myself with worry!"
Releasing me, she turned to Sam, enveloping her in a tight hug. "Samantha! I'm so relieved you're both safe!" she exclaimed, letting go of a visibly startled Sam.
"Um... no offense, Mrs. Benson, but I was fully prepared for you to kill me just now. I mean, if you're here, you must know..." Sam trailed off, clearly taken aback.
"Now, now, Samantha. I can't go around committing murder, especially not against my daughter-in-law," my mother replied with a touch of humor, causing Sam's eyes to widen in disbelief. Samantha Joy Puckett, or Benson now, seemed at a loss for words. Glancing at me, she could see my shocked expression mirrored her own.
"You mean... you actually... know what happened?" I managed to utter, feeling a rush of emotions.
"Of course, my Freddibear. I. Know. All," my mother declared with a threatening tone, inciting anger in Sam. Sam doesn't handle threats well. But why bother defending herself when we were inevitably heading towards annulment or divorce anyway?
"GREAT!" Sam exclaimed her tone a mix of frustration and aggression. "Then you can fill us in on the details of HOW WE FU-REAKING GOT HERE." Nice save, Sam. Too bad I had to elbow her. I nudged her in the ribs, and she jumped back, rubbing the sore spot. "OW! JESUS, BENSON!"
"Stop it," I said calmly.
"Stop freaking what?" Sam growled.
"Stop acting annoyed. She's only doing this because she thinks she knows, but she doesn't. Spencer probably blabbed about Vegas, and then she likely tracked me down. Neither she nor we know what actually happened. Everyone needs to calm down. I know you want to know, and so do I, but my mother isn't 'all-knowing'; she's just trying to get into your head. Speaking of, Mom, STOP!" I shoved my hands in my pockets and eyed them both. Simultaneously, they crossed their arms, popped their hips, and tossed back their hair. It was really creepy.
"Freddie, watch your tone or I'll let your delinquent wife beat you, then tell the judge you tripped," my mother snapped. Sam couldn't hold back her laughter, snorting before bursting into uncontrollable giggles. "What's so funny, Samantha?!"
"Sorry, Mrs. Benson, but that's the coolest thing you've ever said, especially since it involves me roughing up your 'Fweddibear'," Sam chuckled.
"Yeah, it's a bit out of character for me," my mother admitted with a laugh, patting Sam on the back. "But right now, he's YOUR Freddibear, not mine." Sam fell silent, staring down at her feet. For a moment, a brief smile flickered across her lips before her expression returned to its usual blankness.
"Let's not dwell on that. Can we just figure out how to get home?" Sam replied dryly. My mother regarded her, as if trying to decipher her thoughts behind her composed facade.
"Yes, let's focus on that. Lead the way to the computer, Samantha," she gestured for Sam to take the lead. I followed behind, hoping that returning home and reconnecting with our friends from the party would trigger memories of our lost time.
SAMS POV:
As Freddie and his mother chatted at the computer, I retreated to the bedroom to gather our belongings. The realization that I had no clue what to pack brought on a fresh wave of frustration. Opening the closet, I was taken aback by what I found hanging there. The tuxedo seemed ordinary enough, but what caught my eye was the purple calla lily boutonniere pinned to the front. It was stunning. Then, there was the dress. It looked straight out of a fairytale, far more magnificent than the picture I'd seen from Vegas. It was a full ball gown. It was strapless and fitted through the mid-waist before flowing outward. Beads and sparkles adorned the front, enhancing the fullness of the breasts, leading to the voluminous skirt that shimmered like snow. A beautiful train trailed behind. It was breathtaking. Did I really wear this? It was the kind of wedding dress any girl would dream of.
But amidst the awe-inspiring gown, a nagging thought lingered in my mind. If Freddie could have been with anyone from that party while intoxicated, how did we end up hitched instead of him and Carly? We had discussed this before, but I couldn't shake the confusion. He'd loved her his whole life—such feelings don't just vanish because of marriage, do they? Was it possible he mistook me for Carly in his drunken state? They say the truth comes out when you're drunk, so why agree to marry me? As I pondered these questions, I couldn't resist slipping into the wedding dress, longing to experience the feeling of such beauty. I rarely wore dresses, but this one... it was magical.
A hand on my shoulder startled me, and I turned to see Mrs. Benson. A tear slipped down her cheek, leaving me puzzled. She guided me to the full-length mirror, and I gasped at the sight. Truly, the dress seemed to transform me into a beautiful, innocent-looking woman. Beyond my reflection, I met Freddie's eyes as he walked in and stood behind me. He shook his head with a smile and whispered, "You look beautiful, Princess". Turning to face them both, I found Freddie smiling and Mrs. Benson now with tears streaming down her face. It was overwhelming.
"I'm sorry I ruined your lives. I didn't mean to," I choked out, my voice small and tight as I struggled to hold back tears. Without another word, I rushed to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Collapsing to the floor, I allowed silent tears to sting my cheeks, consumed by a flood of emotions.
MARRISAS POV:
I rushed after the crying girl, knocking urgently on the door. "SAMANTHA! Open the door, sweetie," I pleaded, but there was no response. "Sam! Despite any issues I may have with your family or your personality quirks, Freddie and I just had a heart-to-heart. It's no secret how much he cares for you. You're family now, Samantha, and family comes first."
After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing Samantha's tear-filled eyes. As I looked into them, I saw a whirlwind of emotions. As a mother and someone who's experienced similar insecurities over a boy, I could sense her fear and inner turmoil about the situation. In that brief moment, I truly saw her—the beautiful, kind-hearted, and occasionally rough-around-the-edges girl who had captured Freddie's heart. But now, she seemed vulnerable, a side of her that she rarely showed.
Without hesitation, I enveloped her in a tight hug, feeling her small frame tremble against mine. She began to sob into my shoulder, and I held her close, offering what comfort I could. Eventually, she pulled away, and I guided her to the couch in the living room. As I gently rubbed her back, she seemed to relax, seeking solace in my presence.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice choked with emotion. "I'm not usually like this. I guess I'm just nervous about talking to you and facing the reality of going home."
I offered her a reassuring smile. "It's okay, Sam. We don't often have heart-to-heart moments like this, but we're in Italy, and right now, let's just talk. And when we return home, you can go back to pretending to hate me," I said, trying to lighten the mood with a playful wink.
"Oh Mrs. Benson, I don't hate you. I just enjoy teasing Freddie, and as long as we're thousands of miles away and nobody can hear me, I'm actually sort of jealous of him. Don't get me wrong, you're insane and that won't change, but I envy the deep care you seem to have for Fredward. He's the only person who has ever made me feel... well, feel, period. And I'm so frustrated because now I'm married, woke up with the one person I secretly dreamed would one day ask me to marry him. I can't believe I just said that out loud. And I don't even remember how I got here or why. What if, when we get a divorce or an annulment or whatever, he doesn't want to... he doesn't want to... UGH! I can't even say it without wanting to cry. I've probably cried more today than I have my ENTIRE life," I watched her as she took a deep breath, eyes watering, and continued, "What if he drops me completely because I screwed up his perfect life, his perfect record? How's he going to explain this to his future wife? He doesn't deserve this. I don't deserve this... god! STOP CRYING."
She was staring at her feet, sort of shouting her words, tears flowing out of her now piercing blue eyes. The hurt in her voice and her eyes was so clear I almost started crying. She started to slide off the ring that, dare I say, fit so perfectly on her left ring finger but was stopped by my son.
My heart skipped a beat as I felt my breath catch in anticipation, like I was watching one of those super cheesy romantic movies on Lifetime Movie Network that I love so much. I let a single proud tear roll down my cheek as he started sliding the ring back on her finger, got down on one knee, and stated,
"Samantha Joy Puckett... or Benson. I'm 110% plus infinity plus 2 in love with you. In fact, I never stopped loving you and I have no intentions to stop loving you. You have not ruined my life, or my mother's life. We can get an annulment as if this never happened and I plan on figuring out exactly the how, when, where, and why's of how we got here, and I plan on doing that with you right by my side. I'm not going to drop you, nor will I ever just drop you. As for my future wife and explaining all of this... I won't have to tell her, Sam, because she'll already know about all of it."
"Carly," Sam whispered almost inaudibly.
"No, Sam. I'm talking about YOU. I want to spend every single day with YOU by my side, wake up to YOU every morning, be with YOU, make YOU happy, care for YOU, and go to bed next to YOU! I. LOVE. YOU." He stood and kissed her forehead. I watched as she closed her eyes and grasped onto his shirt like he would just vanish. I knew he wouldn't. My heart swelled with pride. My son, he was growing up, and honestly, he made me so proud the way he cared for Sam. It was beautiful; they fought, they loved, and they protected each other. In all honesty, if I had to choose between Carly and Sam, I'd pick Sam by a long shot. Carly is so demanding of my Freddie, but Sam, she doesn't expect Freddie to treat her like a princess, as he would with any girl he dated. Hey, I raised him right; he will respect the women in his life. Let's just say, Carly uses him and leads him on, whereas Sam, her feelings are genuine and she returns everything he puts out there. And that's what I want for my Freddie. I found myself saying what I never thought I would say in my entire life; in fact, I came here with the exact opposite intention. "Then why get divorced?"