Something in the Way: A Forbidden Love Saga: The Complete Collection

by Hawkins, Jessica

  “Lake,” he said in the same firm but exasperated tone he used whenever I pulled away from him.

  “You can wait until we’re home.”

  With a frown, he let me go. “If I can’t kiss you, then you better tell me what I want to hear.”

  “I love you,” I said. “Isn’t putting myself through this evidence of that?”

  “Hate having to keep my fucking hands off you. It’s like I’m twenty-goddamn-three all over again.”

  Despite his earnest expression, I couldn’t help laughing. “It really is funny if you think about it, us being here.”

  “Hilarious.” He stuck his hands in his pockets as my dad entered the kitchen with Mom and Tiffany trailing behind him.

  “Hmm,” Dad said, circling the island. “Pie . . .”

  I figured that was the best I could hope for. He wasn’t red in the face or kicking us out or locking himself in his study—not yet, anyway. “With blueberries,” I added.

  “With apples,” Tiffany said.

  “In the same pie?” he asked.

  Tiffany’s giggle caused one to bubble up in me as well, but I swallowed it down, still unsure of how to read everyone’s mood.

  “No, Daddy,” Tiffany said, fluttering her lashes. “I made apple, Lake brought blueberry. You have to choose.”

  He grunted before leaving the kitchen. I knew before I heard the clink of glass on glass in the den that he was pouring himself a drink. “Well, go on,” he called, as if he could sense our unease from the next room. “Let’s sit and eat your mother’s dinner.”

  “Robby loves apple pie,” Tiffany said. She and I gravitated right to our regular seats at the table, as if no time had passed. “That’s why I made it.”

  “He’s coming tonight?” I asked.

  “No. We were walking out the door when he got a page. He’s on call a lot.”

  “What kind of doctor is he?” Manning asked, setting my refilled wineglass in front of me.

  “A pediatrician,” she quipped. “Did I not mention that?”

  A-ha. Patience was a requirement of Robby’s job. “No wonder,” I said.

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “What’s that mean?”

  “Nothing,” Manning answered for me, helping me scoot my chair closer to the table before he sat. “He must like kids.”

  “He does,” she said. “It’s all he can talk about.”

  Manning put an arm around the back of my chair. One thing he’d asked of me today was that I didn’t talk about our decision to have children. He liked that it only belonged to us for now, and I agreed. By the way he squeezed my shoulder, he must’ve known what was coming.

  “Oh, grandbabies,” my mom gushed as she carried dishes into the dining room. She waited until my dad was at the table to place one in front of him.

  “What the hell are those?” he asked.

  “Your daughter made it,” she said as she returned to the kitchen. “Something different to spice up our table.”

  “They’re tamales,” I said.

  “Mexican food?” Dad asked. “You brought them?”

  “You don’t have to eat them,” Tiffany said to him. “But they actually look pretty good.”

  “I’m with Robby, you know,” Mom said, floating back into the room with the roast. “I can’t wait for both of you girls to have babies.”

  “Well, it shouldn’t be far off.” Dad picked up the carving knife. “Manning here has just asked for my blessing to marry Lake.”

  7

  With my eyes on my empty plate, I couldn’t tell if the silence following my dad’s declaration was surprise or something else. Announcing our impending wedding was part of the reason we were here, but I’d assumed Manning would be the one to bring it up.

  Manning cleared his throat. “I want nothing more than to marry Lake,” he said. “She’s practically my wife already. It’s just a matter of making it official, and we’d love for you all to be there.”

  Tiffany snorted. “This is beyond twisted. You know that, don’t you?”

  I looked at Manning as he shrugged, then to my sister. I sat up a little straighter. “It is what it is.”

  “Goodness.” Mom passed rosemary-roasted potatoes to Tiffany. “Charles, serve the turkey.”

  He stood and slid the roast in front him. “Who wants a leg?” he asked and flipped on the electric knife.

  My mom frowned as she started the rotation of side dishes. “That’s big news after barely hearing from you for so long,” she yelled as my dad carved.

  “I know.” I accepted a bowl of broccoli. “I’m sorry it’s sudden for you, but it isn’t for us.”

  “We don’t even know what your life is like.” Mom hesitated. “I thought you were living in Pomona.”

  “Part of the week. On weekends and holidays, I go home.”

  “What?” Dad sliced off breast meat. “Home?”

  “To Manning,” I enunciated. “And our place in Big Bear.”

  My dad turned to Manning, pointing the whirring knife in his direction. After a few tense seconds, he shut it off. “All these years?”

  “I would’ve mentioned it sooner, sir,” Manning said, “but Lake and I needed our privacy.”

  “That’s fine. All fine.” Dad shrugged. “Makes no difference to me.”

  Except it did. His play of indifference wasn’t convincing. Frustrating as it was that he couldn’t own up to his feelings, it also made me grateful I’d come today. I hadn’t wanted to do this, but I could see my dad cared about his relationship with Manning, just as Manning did. “Manning is the reason I’m here tonight,” I said, serving myself a tamale. “Your approval means a lot to him. He wants to be part of this family again.”

  “We know that, honey,” Mom said, taking my hand across the table. “We know you want that, too, and I promise it makes us nothing but ecstatic. Of course you have our blessing—”

  “Cathy.”

  “What, Charles?” She barely spared him a glance before continuing. “I wouldn’t miss the wedding for the world. I want to be part of it, though. I—we—want to know more about who you are now.”

  I went stiff. I didn’t know where to begin, or how to get things back to what they were—yet my mom looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to spill my guts. “Right now?” I asked.

  “Let’s start with having a nice meal together tonight,” Manning said, one arm back around my chair as he accepted a platter of sliced turkey with the other. “We’ll go from there.”

  Grateful for the save, I put my hand on Manning’s thigh, even though it also meant eating one-handed. “We don’t need an answer now,” I said.

  “We just wanted to let you know our plans,” Manning added.

  “Let’s see the ring,” Tiffany said.

  I’d told Manning I’d wear the mood ring for now, knowing how he worried about money. I didn’t need more than that anyway. I doubted Tiffany would understand, though, so I said, “We’re putting that money into the wedding.”

  “No ring?” she asked. “Are you serious?”

  “If your sister doesn’t want a ring, that’s fine,” my mom said, batting her lashes at Manning. “But it is a nice symbol of your devotion to each other, even if it’s something small.”

  “I’ll take that into consideration,” Manning said.

  “How’s school?” Dad asked just as I had taken a bite—not that he’d notice since he continued to look anywhere but at me.

  Still, it was akin to me taking a step into this house. Dad was opening a door long closed, not only accepting my presence but inviting me in. Swallowing my food with a sip of water, I shivered when Tiffany’s knife scraped the china. “It’s great,” I said. “By this time next year, I’ll be a licensed vet.”

  “She’s one of the top students in her program,” Manning said.

  “I should hope so.” Dad cut his turkey breast, nodding. “She’ll be thankful for years of focused study when she’s slicing Fido open on her operating table.”
/>   “Dad,” Tiffany said, making a face.

  “What?” he asked. “You better get used to it if you’re going to marry a doctor.”

  “Marry?” Tiffany perked up, grinning. “Did Robby say something to you?”

  “No,” Dad barked. “You remind me at every Sunday dinner that you plan to be married by the end of this year.”

  She put an elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. “I do.”

  As cautious as I was about rejoining this family, there was some comfort in their bickering. My dad was still unapologetically himself, but at the root of it, he cared.

  “Anyway,” I continued, “I’ll spend the next few months interviewing with a couple animal hospitals in Big Bear, but eventually I want to open my own practice.”

  He raised his tumbler. “What you should’ve been doing from the start,” he said.

  “Maybe,” I conceded. “I just had to figure that out on my own.”

  Dad continued eating. He didn’t smile at that, but his frown eased completely. “We’re not paying for the wedding,” he said, looking between my sister and me. “Either one.”

  Money hadn’t even crossed my mind. I’d thought getting him to acknowledge our presence long enough to hear there was a wedding would be the one and only topic on tonight’s agenda.

  “I’ll be fine,” Tiffany said. “I learned my lesson the first time thinking money wasn’t as important as love. Not having it can cause major problems.” She popped a potato in her mouth. “That’s why I made finding a wealthy man a priority! I never realized I could have both.”

  I studied my sister’s body language—her contented sighs, tiny smiles, the pink tinge of her cheeks—to decide whether she was bluffing about her relationship. “I could’ve told you years ago you needed someone with money,” I said.

  “As could I,” Manning added. “And I did. Several times.”

  Tiffany shrugged off our comments. Manning, on the other hand, forked a broccoli stem so hard, it tumbled over the side of the plate. His heavy brows made me wonder if Tiffany had hurt his feelings by implying he hadn’t financially supported her the way she’d needed. Though her comment had been rude and thoughtless, I hadn’t thought she still had the power to get under his skin.

  Turning back to the table, I said, “We’re fine to pay for our wedding. Money isn’t an issue for us. The ceremony will be pretty small and intimate—” I glanced at Manning when he removed his arm from the back of my chair. “But even if it wasn’t, we’d be fine. Manning’s furniture sells very well.”

  “Even in this economy?” Dad asked.

  Manning cleared his throat. “I do fine.”

  “That’s what I was saying.” I tried to catch his gaze, but he kept it forward. “You have more business than you know what to do with.”

  “Then you’ve got a solid empire there. Men my age are losing their jobs—and savings—with this recession.” Dad scratched his jaw. “I’ve been telling you for years you need help.”

  “I have help. Some local kids.”

  After our talk weeks ago, Manning had relented and taken on the teenaged son of a contractor he knew to help keep the shop organized. Then, he’d hired a twenty-year-old college student to do his books. “I think Dad means someone to help with the actual furniture.”

  “I have an ear to the ground, but I’m sure it’ll be a while before I find anyone.”

  “Maybe I can help,” Dad said. “E-mail me a job description and the hourly wage.”

  Manning ran a finger under his collar. “I’m not sure it’s the right time. Who knows when the economy will recover?”

  “I think we’ve survived the worst of it,” I said.

  “My furniture is a luxury, not a necessity. And with a business directly related to homes, in this market, things could still decline.”

  I could hear the irritation in Manning’s voice, though I wasn’t sure where it was coming from. Even if business did suffer, Manning had always been good with money. I had complete faith we’d land on our feet. Didn’t he?

  “Maybe it’s time to consider reducing the quality of the pieces,” Dad suggested. “With some cheap labor, you could create a more affordable line.”

  Manning wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it on the table before scooting out his chair. “Excuse me.”

  “Where are you going?” I asked, twisting my head to try to read his body language.

  “To get something from the truck,” he said on his way out of the dining room. “I’ll be right back.”

  I wasn’t buying that, and neither was my mom. “Why do you get on him about his business?” Mom asked my dad. “You know he likes to do things his way.”

  “Because he’s being stubborn for no good reason. If he’s planning on a family, he needs to think smarter about how to generate the most income while keeping expenses down.”

  Manning struggled with that part of his business. Building each piece to his nearly impossible specifications kept him from looking for help, but he also felt pressured to not only take on—but please—every client.

  “He’s doing everything the way he needs to,” I said, also getting up. “He’d never hire cheap labor to make an extra buck. Also, he’s more dedicated than anyone I know, and he has a loyal customer base to show for it.”

  “I didn’t say anything about dedication,” Dad called after me as I left the room. “I’m talking about basic supply and demand here.”

  I took my jacket from the coatrack and pulled it on as I went out front. With the setting sun as his backdrop, Manning leaned against the side of his truck, smoking. Again. I bypassed the front walkway for the lawn’s grassy hill, which got me to him faster. “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “Nothing, beautiful.”

  I crossed my arms. “Then stop smoking so much.”

  “It’s just a little more than usual,” he said but dropped the half-finished cigarette to the curb. He stamped it out, nodding at me. “See? Now come here.”

  I went to him, hugging his middle as I looked up at him. “What’s wrong, Manning? Really? I’ve seen your books. We did our tax returns together. I know we’re not having money trouble.”

  “We easily could be. With your tuition and a wedding and starting a family on top of the mortgage and business expenses—Lake, your dad’s right. I’ve hit a ceiling with how much I can produce. I could be making a lot more.”

  I shook my head. “We’re fine. We’re in less debt than most people and we only have it in the first place because of my student loans. I’m graduating soon, and I can start contributing. Plus, I still have some money saved from when I worked on the show.”

  “Money you set aside for our baby’s future.” He smoothed a hand over my hairline. “I don’t want you to worry about any of this. We are fine. We’re perfect.”

  As he said it, I rubbed the frown lines from between his eyes. Worry was stitched into Manning’s DNA. “There’s no such thing as perfect.”

  “As long as you exist, your argument will fall on deaf ears.”

  “I’ll support whatever you decide,” I said. “I love that you’re so dedicated to your craft, but I also worry you work yourself too hard. If you hire help, it means you can spend more time with me.”

  “It also means being responsible for someone else’s income. If the economy tanks even more, then what?”

  “You fire him.”

  “He—or she—would depend on me. I’d only bring on someone skilled, not someone I could just let go when times are tough.” He sniffed. “By the way, I would never make an ‘affordable line.’”

  “I forbid you from it.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yep. You’re too good at what you do. It would devalue your work.” I patted the rectangular pack in his back pocket. “And while we’re at it, I also demand that you cut back on the smoking before you get in too deep again.”

  He covered the top of my head with his hand. “This little girl thinks she can forbid me from anyt
hing.”

  “I’m not so little anymore,” I said, straightening up.

  “No, you’re not.” He laced his hand with mine and pulled me away from the truck. But as I turned back for the house, he tugged me in the opposite direction. “Come with me.”

  “Where?” I asked as we walked off the curb and toward my parents’ neighbor’s house.

  He didn’t answer, walking us along their front lawn until we were standing at the end of their walkway. He released my hand to point at the wall we’d both sat on the day we’d met. “I can still see you standing in front of me, that giant backpack weighing you down. And then, up on the wall, nervously kicking the heels of your tennis shoes against the bricks.”

  “What makes you think I was nervous?”

  “Call it a hunch.”

  I smiled, sticking my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. Summers didn’t have that same breezy, careless feel anymore. They were different now, but so were Manning and I.

  He’d been right when he’d said we’d both been kids back then. To me, he’d been as much an adult as anyone else I knew, but the truth was, he’d been as young and unsure of himself as I’d been. That Pink Floyd shirt he’d worn had been so old, it would’ve been impossible to keep it around, but I wished he still had it. I’d never forget that image of him sitting with a cigarette in the corner of his mouth as he’d assessed me with a curious, albeit restrained, gaze.

  “Ready to go back in?” he asked.

  Lost in the memory, I hadn’t noticed him leave my side. I turned to find him a few feet back, as if he’d started for the house without me.

  “Sure.”

  “Don’t forget your jewelry,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

  “Ha-ha,” I said, showing him the bracelet on my wrist. “You wish I’d lose it again, just so you could be the hero and find it.”

  “I’m serious.” He nodded at my feet. “You dropped something.”

  As I glanced down, a glint of gold caught the light of the lowering sun. I stooped, about to pick up what looked like a piece of jewelry, but froze. A ring shone against the pavement, centered with a pearly, iridescent stone surrounded by diamonds. Although it looked valuable, its uniqueness struck me first, that awful feeling of losing something sentimental. “This isn’t mine, but it’s beautiful,” I said.