“Yeah. A midcentury dining set for some show that takes place in the fifties.” He scratched the back of his neck. “It’s what I do now. For a living.”
My heart squeezed with pride. It felt like a personal victory, hearing he was pursuing what he loved, and I hoped I’d had something to do with it. “No more suits?” I asked.
“No more suits.”
“Is it just movie sets?” I wanted to know everything. “Do you have a store?”
“Nah. Usually just custom furniture for people’s homes. I have a workshop and deliver the pieces myself, but this was a special project. Henry helped some . . .” He cracked his knuckles. “It’s funny to see you, actually. Weird. Because we were talking about you just last night.”
“You and Henry?”
“And Gary and Lydia—”
“Oh, yeah, cool.” Trying to cover up my shock at hearing another woman’s name, words caught in my throat, and I coughed. Why should I be surprised? Four years was a long time to be single. For a man like Manning, who surely had women fawning over him, it was an eternity. What if he’d found someone he loved more than me? Someone more compatible, less complicated? Did I want that for him if it was what I needed to finally find a way forward without him?
With a heavy heart, I asked, “Is Lydia your . . .”
He raised his eyebrows. “Gary’s wife. You’ve met Lydia.”
“Oh.” I should’ve been relieved, but the thought of him with someone else had already lodged itself in my brain. In my heart. Another reminder of just how large Manning still stood on my horizon, blocking everything else out. I just nodded. “Right.”
“They were all at the house last night.”
“The house?” I asked.
He inhaled through his nose, squinting over my head. I got the feeling he was going to say he had somewhere to be . . . as if this, us, was no longer important to him. Maybe it wasn’t. Corbin had moved on. Why wouldn’t Manning, too? That’s what I’d been trying to do.
“I built a house,” he said finally.
Perfect. That was how it felt to hear him say that, as if it’d been his destiny all along. For Manning, no regular house would do. He needed to be the one to create it. As happy as it made me to hear that, a small part of me couldn’t help the regret seeping in—for all the things I’d missed, for the home I didn’t have, and the one I’d once wanted with him. “I’d like to see that one day,” I said.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding, and then he shook his head, as if he’d changed his mind. “Today. Come see it today.”
My answering laugh was nervous, and I worried he could read the tension in my body. I hated feeling stiff around him, one of the few people who expected nothing of me but for me to be myself. “Sure,” I said.
“Lake?” he said, rubbing his scruffy jaw. “I’m serious. Come by the house tonight.”
I should’ve known he wasn’t kidding. Manning was nothing if not serious. He was a man of few words, and he didn’t say what he didn’t mean. I was definitely curious about the house, but if anything, that was a reason not to see it. Even now, my wounds were still a little too open. “I don’t know if I can,” I said.
“Why not?”
Did I have to say the reason out loud? I couldn’t go see Manning’s house because it would kill me a little inside. Because he’d broken my heart. Because we had a past we couldn’t ignore. Now that I was moving myself on, fate chose to intervene by bringing us together on a replica of a New York street in the middle of Los Angeles. Well, wasn’t that just like fate to be too late? “Because I have somewhere to be,” I said.
“So go be there, and then come over for dinner. For all the times you fed me, let me return the favor.”
My breath hitched. We’d been hungry together, and we’d fed each other—at what point would we have our fill? When did I get to be whole again? “I really shouldn’t.”
“Why not? I need a real reason, Lake. We can eat late if—”
“I’m over you.”
Oh, God. I couldn’t believe I’d said that, to him of all people. And my voice hadn’t even wavered, although I realized I was fidgeting with my purse strap.
Slowly, he raised his eyebrows. “You are?”
“Yes.” That time, my voice did falter a little, so I cleared my throat.
He cocked his head, looking almost . . . amused? Maybe I shouldn’t have assumed there was anything to this but dinner. “How do you know if you haven’t seen me in years?” he asked.
“Because I had no choice.” I glanced at the ground, but forced myself to look him in the eye. “I’ve worked really hard to move on, Manning.”
“How?” Again, he sounded more interested than upset.
“I got rid of the box you gave me, and Birdy, too,” I said. It was only partially true—they were packed away in storage, but that was a definite step forward.
“Those are things,” he said.
“All right.” Since he asked, I told him. There was no point in pretending everything was fine, not with him. I released my purse strap, crossing my arms into myself. “I don’t look for Summer Triangle anymore, and if you want the truth, I could never really find it.”
“They’re just three regular stars, Lake, nothing much to see.” He patted the back of his shoulder. “If you need them, you can always find them here.”
“Always?” The hair on the back of my neck prickled. Instead of dwelling, I’d forced Manning out of my mind frequently the past year. Ironically, I hadn’t opened my eyes this morning as I had many times before and thought—maybe today Manning will come for me. “Because I did need them,” I said, “and they weren’t there.”
“No you didn’t,” he said. “You did just fine on your own. Look at you. You even moved on.” I bit my bottom lip just as he added, “But I didn’t. And I think I know why. You and I never got any closure.”
I let my mouth part. I’d thought the exact same thing. Though Manning and I had said goodbye in a hotel room almost five years earlier, I hadn’t ever been able to shake the feeling that he was mine. And part of me had still hoped after the divorce, he’d come back for me. “I agree.”
“So let’s have it,” he said. “Dinner, drinks, and closure.”
Closure. The end. The idea of it seared through me. It brought to the surface all the pain and heartache and love I associated with Manning. Suffering that I wanted to stop—for good. I needed to snip that last thread of hope, the invisible tether between us, and maybe Manning had the scissors at his house.
“You got a pen?” he asked.
I looked over my shoulder. June was getting restless, tapping her foot and then her watch when she saw me looking. I rummaged through my purse, hardly able to believe Manning and I were just going to sit and have a civilized meal, no buffer, no obstacles between us. I gave him a pen I’d taken from the producers’ office. He glanced over the network’s logo before scribbling directions and an address on the back of June’s card.
“That contract thing,” he said, “did you already sign it?”
“No.”
“Ah.” He handed me the card. “Can you read that?”
“I think so. Take the two-ten freeway about an hour and a—wait.” I drew back, squinting at his handwriting. “Where do you live?”
“Big Bear.”
I looked up at the uncharacteristic cheerfulness in his voice. “Big Bear?” I asked. The same place we’d both been hurt? Where he’d been taken away by the cops while I’d stood by, helpless? Where I’d watched my sister leave for a special dinner with him? He’d made me fall in love with him in Big Bear, and he’d broken me over and over since then. “Why would you buy a house there?”
“Not buy. Build.” He glanced behind me. “I’ll tell you all about it over dinner. So just follow those directions until you see my mailbox. It’s white. Well, so is everyone else’s, but I don’t have a neighbor for a quarter mile, but come to think of it, my address isn’t posted anywhere, so I’ll paint a red stripe
on it. Just in case. That’s how you’ll know.”
I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t realized I was agreeing to an entire evening in the equally terrifying and peaceful mountains, away from everyone else, just us. “You don’t need to paint your mailbox for me.”
He paused and then laughed. Actually laughed, as if I’d made some kind of joke. Shaking his head, he backed away. “You have no idea what you’re in for, Birdy. See you tonight.”
My stomach fluttered. Maybe that’s where my wings had been hiding all these years? “Wait. Manning?”
“Don’t try to get out of it, Lake.” He arched an eyebrow. “If you don’t show, there’ll be no closure, and then I’ll have no choice but to come looking for you.”
As much as I wanted to believe that, I didn’t anymore. I just sighed. “I was going to ask what time.”
“Whenever,” he said. “As soon as you’re ready, come to me.”
26
Lake
Manning had gone and painted his mailbox for me—just so I wouldn’t get lost. Only it wasn’t a stripe like he’d said, but a wobbly red triangle. In the middle of August, the Summer Triangle had found me instead of the other way around. All during the drive, I’d wondered what kind of home he’d built for himself here. If I knew Manning, it’d be a sturdy, no-frills house. Remembering the few pieces of furniture of his I’d seen, and my cherished jewelry box, I hoped there was a lot of wood involved. Manning’s hands could turn raw wood to perfection—and me to mush.
Manning had found his calling, while I had just found—what? Was a sense of acceptance the best I could hope for? I wanted for myself the same peace he’d seemed to have this morning, but I’d gotten lost along the way. Up until I’d made the decision to turn down the contract, I couldn’t help feeling I’d been biding time, waiting for Manning until I could start my life. I’d fallen for him, run to and from him, longed and mourned for him, and where had I been during all that?
Leaving the show was the first difficult step I’d made toward happiness in a while. Tonight would be the second. It would hurt, but I’d finally let go of Manning to allow for a life that’d always centered around him. Maybe that had always been Manning’s purpose, and the sum of our experiences over the years—he’d helped shape me into my own woman instead of someone else’s.
I slowed the car and turned when I reached the mailbox. Manning was right that he had lots of space and no immediate neighbors. A thicket of trees lined the driveway. I’d rolled down the window once I’d entered the mountains, and the air smelled of pine and dirt and 1993.
When the house came into view, I held in a gasp. It was just how I’d imagined except bigger, a kind of rustic yet modern resort glowing with amber light. The honey-colored cabin had a sprawling wraparound porch, large glass windows, and a stone chimney. Big, dark, and comforting, it pulled me in, both exhilarating and calming me. It was impossible to look away from, raw and rough on the outside while exuding warmth. This home was all Manning in every way.
I parked along a patch of grass and turned off the engine. There were stacks of wood off to one side by what looked like an unfinished picnic table. Camping chairs surrounded a fire pit out front. He’d parked his truck in front of the garage and beyond that was a warehouse-looking space that appeared to be closed up for the night.
I got the acute sense that this should’ve been my life. And wasn’t that why I’d come, to stop this persistent feeling of incompleteness? A half-finished love sat heavy in my chest. I hadn’t even seen Manning yet, and already, I ached. How could I spend an evening here and leave it all at the end? That question might’ve been enough to get me to turn the car around, except that I’d already walked away twice before, and I still hadn’t been able to reclaim my life. I needed to tell him we were done. I needed to see with my own eyes that whatever we’d once had was gone so I could walk forward on the path he’d been blocking for over a decade.
Manning came through the screen door, walked over to the car, and leaned his hands on the hood to look through the open window. “Well, here’s a sight I never thought I’d see. Finally got your license.”
I laughed. There wasn’t anything funny about it, but I was nervous. “You have to have one in L.A.”
He glanced around. “Too bad it’s an automatic. You know how to drive a stick?”
“What do you think?”
“’Course you don’t.” He winked. “Probably never dated a man who could handle a manual transmission.”
I relaxed back in my seat with his teasing, staring up at him. I was sure I wore that old look on my face that always betrayed my feelings for him. I never seemed to be able to help that around him. “Did I get here too early?”
“Just a few months,” he said, “but I guess that’s life.”
“Months?” I asked. “You mean minutes. If dinner’s not ready, I can help.”
He opened the car door and checked me out. “Come on and help then, cowgirl.”
I couldn’t help blushing. I’d borrowed Val’s Steve Madden cowboy boots to pair with a denim skirt and light sweater. I took the keys from the ignition, got my purse, and slid out. “The house is beautiful.”
“Thing is, it’s not completely done yet,” he said as we walked up the drive. “I thought I’d have more time before you saw it. There’s a lot more I want to do.”
What he was saying didn’t quite make sense, but maybe he was just as edgy as I was. He’d never been all that great at small talk.
“Oh, wait,” I said, stopping. “I left the window down. I should lock up the car.”
“Nothing to worry about out here.” He placed a hand on my upper back, urging me along. “Well,” he added, squeezing my shoulder, “except maybe wildlife. I know you get a little nervous about those bears.”
Goosebumps slid down my spine, hardening my nipples. Manning’s hand on me had been many things over the years—restrained, curious, soothing, hungry. But it always elicited a reaction, no matter what.
Because he was looking at me, he almost stumbled on the first step to the porch. I reached out to steady him, smiling, and decided to just break the ice for us both. “Maybe the bear’s the one who’s nervous.”
He laughed a little, wiping his palms on his jeans. “Maybe I am.”
Now that I was closer to him, I smelled the soap and aftershave, the freshness of his laundry detergent. Even his hair looked trimmed since this morning. He’d gotten ready for me, and if I was honest, I’d known my cowgirl outfit wouldn’t go without comment from him.
We climbed the stairs to the porch, and by the door was a swing for two. “Did you make that?” I asked.
“Yep.”
It was charming and unexpected—and it could’ve probably used a cushion, but I kept that to myself and followed him inside. The entryway’s wood floors creaked under my boots. He hung my purse on a hook over a credenza.
“That’s the dining room,” he said, pointing into a large open space off the entry. A solid oak table with a live edge centered the room, while the iron chandelier overhead lit the swirl of the grain, the marbling of light and dark wood. Large windows showcased the front yard. Each piece looked perfectly placed, exhibiting an attention to detail Manning only gave the things he cared about. At the same time, the table wasn’t set, and between the bare walls and floor, he was missing a rug or some art to warm up the area.
I stepped in for a better look, but he called me away. “In here’s the kitchen,” he said, leading us in the opposite direction and bypassing the entrance to a hall.
I stopped in the doorway—I had to in order to take it all in. The kitchen had high ceilings, a sprawling center island, restaurant-style ranges flanked by prep and clean-up stations, and a farmhouse sink. Amber wood cabinets puzzled together, different shapes and sizes, as if they’d been crafted for certain things. I supposed maybe they had, since Manning had built this kitchen himself.
“Wow,” I said. “You really went all out.”
“I as
ked for the best.”
“But you don’t even cook.” Next to a French-door, stainless steel refrigerator was a small cooler just for wine. “And you don’t drink wine,” I added as my eyes landed on some steaks marinating in a dish on the counter. Then again, I didn’t know as much about him as I used to. “Do you?”
“No.”
“Then why all this?” I asked, opening the refrigerator. He’d stocked it with all kinds of things—most notably, a telling combination of deli meats, sauces, and cheeses. “Oh, Manning. You’re so busted.”
“Am I?” he asked, and I turned at the hopefulness in his voice. “Bust me, Lake.”
“You’ve been making the Lake Special.”
“Ah. Right.” He glanced away, scratching under his chin. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t. Not without you.”
I closed the refrigerator. “Why are there four steaks?” I asked. Maybe this kitchen wasn’t for him, because someone else had made her stamp here. Maybe she’d done the food shopping, made his sandwiches, picked out place settings. Was that who he’d installed the wine cooler for? And why he seemed nervous, because he had to tell me about her? “Is someone else coming tonight?”
“Someone else?” he asked. “Are you fucking kidding? It’s just you and me, Lake. I wanted to make sure we had enough to eat and steak is the only dinner I really know how to make all that well.”
I smiled to myself. I should’ve known. Always overly cautious. Always thinking of me. Well, I’d thought of him, too. “I brought a bottle of this really nice bourbon. I forget the name. It’s a housewarming gift, but I left it in the car.”
Something in the Way: A Forbidden Love Saga: The Complete Collection Page 83