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

by Hawkins, Jessica

  The timing was almost too perfect. As more silver stars sliced the blackness over our heads, I sat up straighter. This really was a show. “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Moving stars.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at him. “What?”

  “The Perseid meteor shower. Happens every August.”

  “The night before our wedding?” I asked.

  “Technically, we’re getting married today.”

  Hearing him say that, I got chills. By this time tomorrow night, Manning would be my husband. With happy tears in my eyes, I burrowed deeper into him as more and more meteors painted the sky. “Wait—is that why you insisted on this weekend when I suggested summer?” I asked.

  He shrugged underneath me. “Once in a great while, we get the timing right.”

  “You’re such a romantic.”

  “Only for you,” he said, “but that’s no surprise to anyone.”

  I twisted my head up to him. He kissed me slowly, deliberately, without spilling a drop of the overflowing love between us.

  Above our heads, the sky moved and rearranged. It couldn’t have been a more perfect way to start forever together. Perhaps our timing had always been right, and like Manning, I needed to let go and trust that in the end, we’d get everything we were supposed to.

  9

  “You aren’t worried Manning will get cold feet?” Behind me, in my master bathroom, my sister wielded a curling iron in one hand and plucked at my hair with the other. “He could be halfway to Mexico by now. We’d have no idea until you were headed down the aisle.”

  “Tiffany,” Mom scolded, glancing up from where she’d perched on the clawfoot tub. She held up her cell phone. “I just spoke to your father. He’s with Manning, and everyone’s accounted for.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh as Val shook her head the same grave way she did whenever Hollywood announced another Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Halfway down the counter from us, in between applying fake lashes, she said, “Lake is more likely to bolt than Manning.”

  Tiffany paused in the middle of taking a break from curling my hair to touch up her own. She widened her eyes at me in the mirror. “Are you thinking about ditching him at the altar?”

  “Of course not.” Nothing could stop me from marrying the man of my dreams today. Still, the generally chilly idea of cold feet had me closing the lapels of my satin robe at the base of my throat. “This wedding is such a sure bet that if it doesn’t happen, I’ll move into your basement and do all your cooking and cleaning, like Cinderella.”

  “Really?” Tiffany asked, either missing the fact or not caring about my implication that she was an evil stepsister. She sighed happily as she swept my curls off my back to my shoulders. She looked over my head, studying her work in the mirror. “I mean, I’ll have to check with Robby first. He’s very particular about his space.”

  “Obviously,” I agreed, exchanging a muted giggle with my mom. It wasn’t that my joke was lost on Tiffany—she just always had Robby on the brain. I was glad for it. She’d been so distracted by him the past several months that she’d hardly paid Manning and me any attention. I’d met Doctor Robby with the nice, golden-blond hair to match his nice face. As my mom had promised, he was a stable and patient man who owned his home and was good with kids—at least, he usually had a lollipop on him. More importantly, he was as enamored by Tiffany’s carefree approach to life as she was drawn to his adoration of her. Not long after Manning’s and my visit in January, Robby had proposed.

  And Tiffany never let us forget it.

  “Ugh,” she said. “My ring keeps getting caught in your hair.”

  “Which ring?” Val asked, rummaging through her makeup bag.

  “My engagement ring,” Tiffany said.

  “Oh, right.” Val popped open a blush compact, swiped a brush through it, and blew off the excess powder—all while managing a smirk. “I guess I forgot. Thanks for clarifying.”

  Tiffany shot Val a daggered look. How dare she forget such big news? I held in a laugh so I wouldn’t further anger my sister. She was not only in charge of my wedding day hair, of which she currently had handfuls, but my makeup, too. I didn’t want to walk down the aisle looking like a hairless blowup doll.

  Once Val had finished applying her makeup, she disappeared and returned with her hands behind her back. “I finished your bouquet last night,” she said. “I also tied together some lavender bunches for Tiffany, me, and the other bridesmaids to carry.”

  I tried to look around her. “Let me see.”

  She kept one hand behind her back as she passed me a blossoming bouquet of lilac, lavender, and greenery with cream and blush-colored roses. I inhaled the arrangement that complemented the plum color of their dresses. “I love it.”

  “And I made this,” she said, placing a simple crown with the same flowers on my head. “Last night you said you needed something blue. I figured purple would work, but I added in some delphinium for good measure.”

  “Thank you,” I said, hugging her.

  Tiffany inspected the crown as well as the top of my head. “Do you even have anything borrowed?” she asked.

  “No,” I said, frowning. Manning had handled most of the small details for today. I’d been more concerned with making our houseguests comfortable and handling any last-minute arrangements.

  “Your dress could be considered borrowed,” Val suggested.

  “True,” Tiffany said. “It’s looks like it’s from the seventies. I don’t know why you guys like that old stuff.”

  “And I don’t know why you shop at Hollister when you’re thirty-five,” Val shot back.

  “Girls,” Mom said. “Try to remember it’s Lake’s day.”

  “I’d rather look too young than too old,” Tiffany muttered as she gave Val’s bridesmaid dress a disdainful onceover—even though it was the same one Tiffany wore. She slow-blinked at Val’s Birkenstocks. “Are you a lesbian?”

  “I don’t identify with labels,” Val said. “Or give life to stereotypes, unlike some people.”

  “So that’s a yes. Are you in love with my sister?” Tiffany gasped. “Or with me?”

  Val rolled her eyes and turned away, muttering, “I’m changing into heels before the ceremony.”

  No signature snippy comeback from Val? “Look, for the sake of getting through today,” I said, “let’s all agree to keep you two apart as much as possible. Tiffany has a very contemporary sense of style, and Val isn’t in love with me or anyone else.”

  Val jerked her head over her shoulder, as if I’d surprised her, but her expression eased quickly. “It’s almost time,” she said, packing up her makeup bag. “Where are your boots?”

  “Shoebox in my closet.”

  “I’ll get them ready,” she said on her way out.

  Tiffany whipped a mascara wand from its tube like a sword from a sheath. She nodded at me. “Look at the ceiling.”

  As Tiffany attacked my bare lashes and my mother fluffed my generally unfluffable-able dress hanging on the back of the bathroom door, I wondered what was going on with Val. She wasn’t a lesbian, even if she sometimes pretended to be to mess with people, but she definitely had a secret. She’d planned my bachelorette party, a trip to Napa Valley with our friends from each coast, and she’d been available to help with anything wedding-related—but I’d noticed her withdrawing from me the past year. I’d thought maybe I’d been ignoring her too much for Manning, but when I’d asked to come spend a weekend at her house in Los Angeles recently, she’d made up some excuse about getting it fumigated. Val could charm and convince and deflect like a pro, but when it came to the people she cared about, she was a shit liar. In the flurry of wedding activity, I hadn’t had a chance to get to the bottom of her behavior, though.

  “I’ll make sure everyone’s getting seated,” Mom said, leaving me alone with Tiffany.

  And her boobs.

  They nearly spilled out of her strapless dress and into my lap as she put the f
inal touches on my makeup. Most likely, she’d picked a size smaller than she needed. “I think you hurt Val’s feelings,” I said.

  “She doesn’t have any,” Tiffany replied. “Part your lips.”

  I slackened my jaw as she finished off my makeup with a pale pink gloss. She stepped aside to give me the mirror. For all her extravagance, she’d always been good at keeping my look natural. I angled my head, rounding my cheeks as they glowed and shimmered.

  Tiffany held out a hand mirror. “For the back.”

  I stood and turned. Topped by Val’s crown of flowers, my hair fell—nay, cascaded—in long loose curls. “You should’ve been a cosmetologist, Tiff.”

  “I know.” She circled me as if I were a science project. “I’m so glad you let your hair grow out a little. Anything above the shoulders doesn’t suit you.” She cocked her head. “But I think you need more makeup for pictures.”

  Whenever I dressed up for a night out with Manning, he’d treat me like a princess—but once we got home and he unhooked my jewelry, slid off my heels, unzipped my dress, and unpinned my hair, I became a goddess under his worship. For him, less would always be more. “It’s perfect,” I said.

  “Fine, but come see me between the ceremony and pictures for a touch-up. And try not to cry.”

  I turned to my sister. She’d pulled her hair back into a chignon, and her icy blue eyes warmed against shimmery skin and long, jet-black lashes. She looked different—from me and from herself. Today of all days, there was a stillness in her I’d rarely seen. It made little sense considering she’d have every reason to be upset, or to have blown off the wedding entirely. I grabbed her for a hug. “Thank you,” I said.

  It took her a moment, but she patted me on the back. “Okay, okay. I can’t have my sister looking sloppy on her wedding day.”

  “I meant thank you for being here,” I said with a laugh as I pulled back to look her in the face. “Are you okay with all of this, or are you pretending?”

  She blinked at me. “You’ve seen me and Robby together, right? He loves me so much that the little stuff doesn’t matter anymore.” She rolled her eyes. “Not that your wedding is little—geez. Sorry. Robby says people are intimidated by me, and I should be more careful with my words.”

  Oh, my sister. She hadn’t changed, but she was trying—I supposed I had to give her some credit for that. At this point, aside from developing a little empathy, I wasn’t sure I even wanted her to change that much. When she was no longer a threat to me, her behavior was kind of entertaining. “I’m not intimidated by you,” I said, “but I used to be.”

  “Really? I could see that. Big sister and all.” She grinned. “Anyway, I’m not sure I’d be here today if I hadn’t met Robby, but I did, so I’m glad I came.”

  “I would’ve understood if you hadn’t, but honestly, something huge would’ve been missing without you here.”

  “Do you really feel that way?” she asked.

  The idea of Tiffany staying home and angry this weekend gave me no pleasure. I’d only ever wanted her to succeed by following her own path—I’d just wished that path had been heading in the opposite direction of Manning. I nodded, smiling. “Yes. I’m sorry for everything, but I hope we can both recognize it worked out for the best.”

  “It did.” She wet the tip of her thumb and smeared away something on my cheek. “Manning deserves to be happy, and I realize now that he never was. I talked to him for a while last night—he’s a different man.”

  Tiffany knew Manning in ways I didn’t. She’d been with him day in and day out when he’d suffered over me and struggled with his demons. I knew he was happy, but hearing Tiffany say it, my throat thickened. “I could barely comprehend what love was at sixteen, and I know you didn’t believe me back then, but I felt it for him.”

  “Oh, geez. I told you not to cry.” Tiffany twisted around to swipe a tissue from the bathroom counter. As she did, I noticed her zipper stretching at the seams. She turned back with tears in her eyes—and that was the giveaway. Tiffany didn’t waste good makeup on crying. “Tiff?” I asked.

  She dabbed at the corner of my eye. “What?”

  Could that stillness in her be a result of something greater than her love for Robby? “Did you pick a date yet?”

  “No.” Her cheeks tinged the slightest shade of pink. “I know we told you guys fall, but fall is so predictable. We’re going to wait until next year.”

  “I see.”

  Her chest rose and fell with each breath. Now that I’d noticed that her dress was tight, her breasts almost seemed to grow before my eyes.

  “Is there another reason you’re waiting?” I asked.

  She balled up the tissue, shifting her eyes to meet mine. “What kind of reason?”

  “Maybe that you don’t want to order a dress in a bigger size?”

  She narrowed her eyes, and for a second, I worried I’d gotten it wrong. Thinking she might be pregnant, I’d just implied my sister was gaining weight, which would be a surefire way to undo all the progress we’d made recently. But then, she shrugged. “Maybe. But today is your day,” she said. “It’s your wedding. Don’t worry about me.”

  Today was my day? Now I knew there was something fundamentally different about her. She was giving me the spotlight, possibly for the first time ever. Either she’d been abducted by aliens and they’d sent down a nicer version of her, or her hormones were going haywire and the pregnancy had softened her. I’d heard of that happening—then again, I’d also heard of Roswell. “You are pregnant.” I tried to contain my smile. “Were you planning it?”

  “I wasn’t. Robby probably poked holes in the condom.”

  With no response to that, I laughed nervously. “Does Mom know?”

  “No. I’m not that far along, so I don’t want to say anything.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Considering what happened before, I’m scared to even let myself think it’s true.”

  I nodded. I got anxious when my period was even a day late, so I understood. I promised myself this time, no matter what, I’d be there for Tiffany. There’d be no keeping my distance like before when she’d needed family by her side. “Between us, Manning and I have been trying.”

  “I’m not surprised.” She squeezed my arm. “We can be pregnant together.”

  As soon as excitement buzzed through me, it fizzled. Manning and I had been off birth control long enough for me to understand I didn’t have any say over the timing. “It’s been a while,” I said. “I actually thought I might be waddling down the aisle.”

  “How long?” she asked.

  “Almost a year. But that’s including the time it takes for birth control to wear off.”

  “Oh.” She nodded a little, blinking away. “That’s not that long. And on the bright side, you’re not waddling. That would be a terrible look on your wedding day.”

  I wasn’t sure I agreed. I remembered how the thought of me as a pregnant bride had driven Manning wild. “You’re probably right.”

  My mom returned and took my dress off the back of the door. “They’re about ready for us.”

  I glanced at her in the mirror. “I need help getting into that.”

  “Go to the bathroom first,” Mom and Tiffany said at the same time.

  “I don’t have to.”

  “Make yourself,” Tiffany said.

  “You can do it,” Mom added.

  “O-kay,” I said, mostly out of a fear they wouldn’t let me leave otherwise.

  When I’d finished, I found my mom, Tiffany, and Val in the bedroom, all holding open the gown.

  “I think it should go over her head,” Val was saying.

  “After I just spent an hour on her hair and makeup?” Tiffany asked. “She can step into it.”

  “The top part is too tight,” Val said. “It won’t fit over her hips—no offense, Lake. It’s not you, it’s the dress. I do this all the time on set.”

  “Whatever,” Tiffany said. “If she gets foundation on it, that’s on
you.”

  Oddly, their bickering made me smile. It was normal, and normal was good today. I didn’t want anything more than to walk down the aisle, marry my love, and eat and drink with friends and family. I slid off my robe and raised my arms as they worked on the sleeves and guided my head through the neckline.

  Once my mom had zipped me up and arranged the dress how she wanted, she guided me over to the floor-length mirror to help me into my shoes. I’d picked up my off-the-shoulder, long-sleeved cream dress from a secondhand store in town. The lace bodice managed to hug my breasts without cutting off my air, and the skirt fell in a loose column. It’d been Tiffany’s uncharacteristic suggestion to have fun with the shoes, so Val had helped me pick out chestnut-brown leather booties to fit the outdoor setting of our ceremony and reception.

  I turned to the side, checking myself from all angles. The long lace sleeves bared only my shoulders. The toes of my booties stuck out from under the hem. I wasn’t the most stylish, most glamorous, or the sexiest bride in the world, but I looked like myself—a woman about to walk down the aisle to the man she loved. Luckily, Manning made me feel sexy no matter what I wore. Still, I smiled to myself knowing I had some special wedding lingerie for him later.

  As I started to turn away from the mirror, my gaze snagged on my right hand. The deep purple color of the mood ring Manning had slid onto my finger in the boat was vibrant against the cream lace. It had turned that color the night I’d found my way back to Manning in Big Bear, after we’d eaten and argued and cried and made love—and I wasn’t sure it’d changed since. That purple was our shade of happiness and the reason I’d chosen a plum color scheme for the wedding. Manning giving it to me on the lake the night before was no coincidence. I did have something borrowed after all. I considered it Madison’s ring first, and a symbol of her presence.

  I flexed my hand against the dress one last time, then turned back to Mom, Tiffany, and Val. “I’m ready.”

  * * *

  On a warm summer evening, I stood on my back porch overlooking friends and family as I prepared to marry my best friend. A violinist played over the murmurs of the crowd, the sun orange as it began to lower behind the mountains and trees. Manning and his friends had organized our backyard with wooden folding chairs divided by an aisle lined with lit lanterns.