“You’re right, I was scared—that my sister would steal my husband. Is there anything more messed up than that?”
“If I could’ve helped how I felt about him, I would’ve. Trust me.” I shifted in the metal chair to ease my stiffness. When I talked about Manning, everything ached, even my elbows and knees. “It’s been nothing but heartbreak for me.”
“Boo-fucking-hoo.” She pointed her orange-tipped cigarette at me. “That didn’t give you the right to screw around with him.”
I jerked back, shocked equally by the venom and the conviction in her voice. Had Manning confessed everything? “You make it sound cheap, but you knew what he meant to me.” I took a breath so my voice wouldn’t break. This was a conversation I’d never wanted to have. Despite what Tiffany might’ve thought, I didn’t want to hurt her, but I couldn’t forgive what she’d done to us. “You knew what you were doing from day one.”
“I thought it was a stupid crush,” she muttered to the table. “Do you know how many crushes I had at that age? I could barely keep track. I thought you’d get over it.”
“It wasn’t a crush. It was more.” I leaned forward, waiting until she lifted her head to meet my eyes. “I loved him, Tiffany. I didn’t care about anything else. Do you have any idea how it felt to watch him walk down the aisle with you?”
She stood, flicking the butt of her cigarette so ashes landed inches from my feet. “Do you have any idea how it felt to walk down the aisle knowing he was thinking about you?”
“No, I don’t, because he didn’t choose me,” I said. “He chose you.”
“If you think that, you’re even more naïve than I thought.” She stared at me, her jaw clenched as she shook her head. “How can you still not see the truth? He chose you. In the end, he chose you, and that’s what matters.”
“Do you see him here with me?” I asked.
“He chose you so many goddamn times. He kept me at arm’s length our entire marriage because I wasn’t you. After the m-miscarriage,” she stuttered, “things got worse, but you know Manning. I figured he’d just keep punishing himself.” She scuffed the ground with the bottom of her platform shoe, looking torn about whether to leave or stay. “He didn’t. Somehow, he finally found the guts to walk away from me.” She sat back down, her posture wilting. “But everything he is now, everything he’s done—it’s for you. He chose you, and you know it, and why wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t he want the perfect girl who gets everything she doesn’t even ask for?”
Where was he now? What had he done? I didn’t know, because he wasn’t mine. Considering what he’d lost, it’d never felt right to call him, and once he’d left Tiffany’s, I didn’t know where to reach him. Not that I would’ve tried. What could I say that hadn’t already been said? He knew I loved him. He knew I’d give up anything to be with him. He hadn’t come for me, and so I’d had no choice but to accept the truth—it wasn’t our time, and might not ever be.
“I haven’t spoken to him since New York,” I informed her.
“Well, then maybe you got what you deserved. Maybe we all did. You’re alone. He’s probably alone. My baby is gone.”
“How can you say that?” I asked. “Nobody deserves that kind of loss.”
“What do you know about loss? You never lose anything. You get everything.”
“And you never try to see anything from my point of view. What makes you think I’ve got it all figured out?” I asked.
“Because I’ve had to stand by and watch it my whole life. That’s the result of living in your shadow.”
“In my shadow?” I asked. That was the last straw. How could she possibly think that was true when it’d been the other way around? I nearly vibrated with anger. “Growing up, you were constantly talking over me, getting everyone’s attention any way you could manage, even when I wasn’t fighting you for it. I let you have the spotlight and you pushed me out of it anyway.”
“Exactly. You didn’t even have to try.” She gripped the arm of her chair. “Unless I was talking loudest, Dad ignored me. And the older you got, the worse it was.”
“That’s only because of college,” I said. “Once I wasn’t going to USC, he was done with me. Why do you still care what he thinks anyway? He’s always been a jerk to both of us, especially you.”
She held her cigarette deep in the “V” between her pointer and middle finger. After a drag, she squinted at me as if thinking. “You know,” she said, “you’re more like him than you realize.”
I pulled my shoulders back. Maybe once that’d been a compliment, when I’d bent over backward to impress my father. Now, there was perhaps no greater insult. “I’m nothing like him.”
“Neither of you will make the first move because you’re too proud. You’re both book smart but you lack compassion. That’s what my therapist says.” She coughed into a fist. “But you know what makes you the most like Dad? You’re a cheater. Manning wouldn’t tell me exactly what happened between you two while he was in New York, but I know enough.”
A cheater? I’d never heard myself described so callously. That was more the kind of adjective to describe someone like Tiffany or, yes, my dad. Except he wasn’t a cheater. Why would she say he was? “I don’t understand.”
“Never mind.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Forget it.”
“No,” I said, sensing she was trying to cover something up. “What do you know?”
Sighing through her nose, she ran her nail along the butt of the cigarette. “I guess you’re old enough now. Remember Dad’s secretary with the orange hair? It wasn’t quite blonde or even red . . .”
The sister I’d barely spoken to in years was suddenly talking, but I didn’t know how to register what she was saying. My dad had a funny way of showing love, even to my mom, but he’d always taken care of us. He’d always been loyal. But then again, everyone liked to say how naïve I was, and maybe in this case, it was true. The patio’s overhead light got eerily yellow as I put two and two together. “Dad had an affair?” I asked. “When?”
The lines in Tiffany’s face eased a little and she turned her face away, as if she were the guilty one. “When we were kids, I walked in on it at his office.”
My dad’s secretaries had come and gone over the years. I vaguely recalled who Tiffany was talking about because of her hair color and the amount of makeup she’d worn. At the time, she’d seemed older to me, maybe even sophisticated. Trying to picture her again, I only saw a girl younger than I was now. “She was, like, early twenties, wasn’t she?”
“Young, old, pretty, ugly. Whatever, who cares?” She rubbed her eyebrow. “Maybe there were others, too.”
“Does Mom know?”
“Yep.” She bobbed her head. “I was really confused about what I saw, so I told her. She brushed it under the rug and got some nice outfits out of it.”
The cigarette smoke was getting to me. First, it’d been just another frustrating reminder of Manning, but now it seemed to have filled my lungs, thickening into a mass in my chest. “How come you never told me?”
She picked at the table’s rubber edge. “I just . . . didn’t think you needed to know. It was kind of weird growing up with that information. And you looked up to Dad.”
“But it would’ve changed how I saw him, and didn’t you want that?”
“I don’t know. Not enough to traumatize you, I guess.”
It was weird to think Tiffany had protected me in her own way when it’d rarely felt that way as a kid. “I’m sorry,” I said. “You could’ve told me.”
She looked out at the pool. “I wonder if it would’ve changed anything.”
With Manning was the part she left off. Would I have stayed away from him in New York if I’d grown up knowing my dad as an adulterer? I didn’t think so, and I doubted Tiffany did, either. “You think I’m like that?” I asked. “Like what he did?”
“Are you going to tell me you aren’t? That you didn’t?” She trained her eyes on me. “That innocent La
ke kept her hands to herself the whole week Manning was there?”
It was my turn to look away, wiping my upper lip with the heel of my palm. I couldn’t lie to Tiffany and say I’d behaved, so I just sat there sweating under the yellow light like I was being interrogated until the sliding glass door opened.
“There you are,” Sean said, fisting a beer and a joint as he came over to kiss my cheek. I realized belatedly that I’d heard his motorcycle out front a few minutes before.
I gestured across the table. “Sean, this is my sister.”
“Oh, hey.” He sat and gave her his signature sexy—and somewhat hollow—smile. “What’s up?”
Tiffany eyed the tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves. “Hey.”
“Are you an actress too?” he asked, relaxing back in the chair.
She crossed her legs in his direction. “No,” she said. “I used to do some modeling, though.”
“I could see that,” he said, nodding. “Your family’s got good genes, Lakey. Either of you have a light?”
I gagged on the inside. Lakey not only sounded gross, but it was like combining Birdy and Lake, and I didn’t want my memories of Manning anywhere near Sean. “I’ve asked you so many times not to call me that,” I said, but they were ignoring me.
“Just don’t steal it,” Tiffany said, leaning forward to hand him her BIC. “These things are expensive.”
“I know, right?” He lit the blunt. “I’m always losing mine.”
I looked up at a movement in the doorway. Corbin leaned outside. “You forgot to shut the door, man. You’re getting smoke in the house.”
“Sorry.” Sean waved in front of his face as if that’d help. “It’s just pot. Won’t smell.”
Corbin came out with a red plastic cup and took the last seat at the table. He lowered his voice as Tiffany asked Sean about the show. “Did you two have a good talk?” Corbin asked.
“I don’t know. It was an honest one at least.”
“You missed the end of the show.”
“I know. It feels super weird to see myself up there, though. I don’t think I like it . . . like at all.”
“I know what you mean.” He stretched his long legs, leaning back. “They edited the promos to make it look like Sean and I were fighting over you during one of my visits. Guess that’s why they always mic me when he’s around.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I warned you, though. You didn’t have to participate.”
“I know. I think it’s funny.” He sipped his drink. “You know when I do come around, I’m just looking out for you, right?”
That was Corbin’s gentlemanly way of making sure I knew he wasn’t trying to be any more than a friend to me. He and I hadn’t hooked up since before Manning’s trip to New York, but Corbin and I had never really talked about his feelings. “I know. I just wish you were here more.”
“I might be, Kaplan.” He winked. “I just might be.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t tease me.”
“I’m not. I told you I’ve been thinking about starting my own consulting firm, and I could do that out here if I want.”
“Really?” I asked, grateful for some good news. “You’d move back?”
“Maybe. I could set my own hours, work with clients I actually respect, and then there’s the whole settling down thing we’re supposed to start thinking about. Raising a family in New York, it’s not the same. I kinda miss Cali.”
“No way.” I smiled. “I never thought I’d hear you say that. Did you meet someone and you’re trying to play it off like this was the plan all along?”
He chuckled. “No, but I want to.”
“Well, you tell me who you want, and I’ll make it happen. The girls on my show all love you. Whatever I can do to sway you, I will. Val and I want you here.”
His mouth crooked in one corner as he squinted into the backyard. “I was thinking maybe a waterfront place in Malibu. Open all the windows, live right on the beach. New York has been good to me, but nothing like going downstairs and hopping in the water with my board and my girl. Sounds all right.”
Better than all right. New York had been a once-in-a-lifetime experience, but California was in my blood. I wasn’t so sure about the reality TV thing, but there could still be some opportunities for me in Hollywood, so this felt like where I needed to be right now. The thing I still lacked was what Corbin described—a home. Val’s house and my little bungalow in Santa Monica with Bree had been good substitutes, always filled with friends and food and sometimes pets since we dog-sat a lot. Still, as my sister flirted with my current fling, I knew my life would never go back to what it’d been before I’d left. The rift between my dad and me was too big, and especially now that I knew he’d cheated on my mom, I wasn’t willing to cross it. Nor could Tiffany and I ever just be sisters again.
A lump formed in my throat with the biggest truth of all—without Manning, I didn’t know that I even wanted to try and make a home anywhere else. I thought I could float through cities and decades if I were never anchored to him. Did I even want that anymore? It’d gotten so hard to even think of Manning. Sean and everyone I’d dated since had been easy, and that seemed like the way to go in the future.
“It sounds like you got it all figured out,” I said to Corbin. “I’m jealous.”
“Of me? You’re the one killing it out here. See all the people who showed up to watch your ascent into stardom? And how many of our friends, all those people you worked with who are barely getting by, watched you on TV in New York tonight?”
He always knew how to make me smile in spite of myself. I took his hand and squeezed it. “As long as you and Val aren’t going anywhere, then that’s all I need.”
I realized Tiffany and Sean had stopped talking and were both looking at me. Sean pinched his joint and stood. “Well, I’m in no shape to ride. It’s cool if I stay the night with you, Lakey?”
“Sure,” I said. “We can leave in a bit.”
“Dope.” He winked at me. “I’m going to get another drink.”
When he’d gone inside, the look on Corbin’s face sent me into a fit of giggles. “Did he say Lakey?” Corbin asked.
It took me a minute to catch my breath. I just hoped the nickname didn’t catch on nationwide.
Tiffany fidgeted with her pack of cigarettes as if she wanted to light another. It annoyed me how Manning, and now she, too, couldn’t get a grip on such a life-threatening habit. She shifted in her seat and joked, “Third wheel.”
“Hardly,” Corbin said.
“Why is that, though?” she asked. “How come you two never got together? Or did you and nobody knew?”
“We’re too good of friends,” Corbin said, and I wondered with the swiftness of his answer, how many times he’d given it before.
I was grateful, though—that he’d saved me from having to answer, and that he recognized it was true. What Corbin and I had was special. Maybe if we’d ever slept together or decided to date, we wouldn’t be friends now, and that would be the real tragedy. “I figure there’s some saintly woman out there who deserves him,” I added. “It’s not me.”
“No, I guess not,” Tiffany said. “Not very saintly to sleep with a married man.”
Maybe I deserved that, but my cheeks flamed nonetheless. I hated that she’d said it in front of Corbin. Since he was quick to defend me in any situation, his silence confirmed that he agreed. He still didn’t bring up Manning’s name in any other context than as Tiffany’s ex-husband, but that didn’t mean Corbin was in the dark about anything.
But it was out there now, and once my shame wore off a bit, I was actually a little relieved. I’d lived in this secret world with Manning so long, I was exhausted from hiding our attraction to each other. So, in the interest of honesty, I finally stopped trying to protect everyone. “Did you ever really love Manning?” I asked. “Or did you just marry him to spite me?”
Tiffany’s blue eyes flashed over me before she glanced at the as
htray. She went to pick up her pack again, but I snatched it and threw it in the pool. “Hey,” she said.
“Just stop already. You and—” I stopped myself from saying Manning. “You’re better than those cigarettes. It’s not an emotional crutch—it’s a filthy habit that will kill you.”
“What Lake’s trying to say is that she cares what happens to you.” Corbin gave me a reproachful look. “And she’s right. Smoking like a chimney isn’t going to make anything better.”
Tiffany slumped down in her seat, biting her cuticle. “Fine. You want the truth? Until Manning came along, I had one thing you didn’t—men wanted me. You had the grades and Dad’s attention and USC, but I could flirt the pants off a gay man.” Her gaze darted from me to Corbin and back. “Then when I saw how Manning looked at you, suddenly everything changed. Guys started noticing you, too. Including Corbin, but he’d wanted me first, didn’t you, Corbin?”
Corbin stilled, only his eyes moving as he looked between us. “Oh, I . . . uh.” He shifted in his seat. “Yeah, I guess. When you were dating Cane, you were like the girl. It was hard not to, like, like you.”
He looked so uncomfortable that I brought the conversation back to myself. “I was sixteen,” I said to Tiffany. “I got boobs and grew into my limbs that summer. It wasn’t Manning’s fault.”
“But Manning . . . he was the one thing you wanted,” she said. “It was so painfully obvious you had this little-girl crush on him that first day he came over for a sandwich.”
“So that’s why you went out with him?” I asked. “To rub it in my face?”
“It wasn’t that conniving. It bothered Dad and it annoyed you, so it was kind of fun. Manning just felt like some rare thing I could have and you couldn’t.” She looked longingly at the pack of smokes bobbing in the pool. “I mean, I didn’t plan it like that. When I say it now, it sounds calculated but it just happened. I never meant for things to go so far, you know. Manning was too old for me and not that much fun. He was so serious all the time.”
Something in the Way: A Forbidden Love Saga: The Complete Collection Page 78