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

by Hawkins, Jessica

  Of my five bridesmaids, one was from Pomona, and the other two had driven in from Los Angeles. The audience had seemingly arranged itself—friends from New York took up one row, while other sections had been taken over by Californians, grad school classmates, or locals Manning and I had befriended. Tiffany blew Robby a kiss from her bridesmaid post. Val’s normally wry expression warmed and softened as she winked at someone in the second row. That someone had golden hair that was now down to his broad, suited surfer’s shoulders. Corbin had narrowly missed my forcing him to be a bridesmaid.

  Opposite of my friends and sister stood Henry, Gary, and a few men in the construction business Manning had become close with since moving to Big Bear.

  The bridal party flanked a wedding arch I’d never seen. Crafted of the same honey wood in the house and adorned with cream gauze, ivy, pinecones, and white twinkle lights, I understood why I’d known nothing about it. It had to be a wedding gift to me from Manning. At the foot of one side of the arch, Blue wore a harness with a pouch for her role as ring bearer.

  I looked everywhere but at Manning. Once I did, that would be it for me. I’d never been the same girl after Manning and I had met eyes on the street all those years ago, and I wouldn’t be the same woman once I saw him waiting on his bride.

  With his thoughtfulness filling my heart, I descended the porch to meet my dad at the base of the steps. He offered me his elbow. “You look like one of those princesses in the fairytales you watched as a young girl.”

  I smiled. “All Tiffany’s doing.”

  “I have no doubt.” We looped arms, and he guided me toward the aisle. “Are you nervous?”

  “No,” I answered and finally met Manning’s gaze. Undoubtedly, his eyes had been on me the whole time. Everything else fell away, my nose tingling. With a cream rose pinned to his suit lapel to match my bouquet, he adjusted the knot of his black tie and watched my every move with melted-chocolate brown eyes. I wanted to smile at him. To thank him for the love and mastery it’d surely taken to design the back lawn into a rustic paradise—from the arch to the twinkle lights strung in the trees, over chairs, and hanging from the trellis, to the picnic tables he’d rented so we could host the reception here. I wanted to blow him a kiss, call for him, cry tears of joy. But I couldn’t do any of that. Both Manning and I seemed frozen in the moment, just our hearts beating—syncing, as I was certain I actually felt his—and the tether between us pulling me closer and closer to him.

  If there were any other eyes on me besides Manning’s as I walked down the aisle, I didn’t notice. I heard only what I felt—pine needles crunching underfoot, the brush of my dad’s suit against my dress, and the echo of my heartbeat in my ears. The setting sun cast a glow on Manning as we reached him.

  My dad turned to me. “Love you, Lake,” he said, and that was enough, but he added, “I’m proud of the woman you’ve become, even if I had little hand in it.”

  “You were there with me every day, Dad, even if we were apart.” The back of my throat burned as I held back tears. I hugged him. “For better or worse.”

  He chuckled, then let me go before nodding at Manning. I stepped up to the altar, pausing to run my fingertips over the smooth wood. Carved into the underside of the arch, where only Manning, the minister, and I could see, were tiny, almost invisible stars, and the initials L+M in the center.

  “Charles helped,” Manning said.

  My dad smiled at me as he took his seat. I moved in front of Manning with tears in my eyes, but I could hardly look at him without losing it. I scratched Blue’s head, then glanced at the ground in a vain attempt to compose myself . . . and noticed Manning’s shoes. At my urging, he’d spent time and money getting a custom suit for today, but I’d forgotten to ask about his footwear. Through my teary vision, I inhaled a laugh at his Timberlands.

  “Friends and family—” the officiant began, pausing as Manning put a knuckle under my chin to lift my eyes to meet his. I swallowed thickly but held his gaze and heard nothing else until it was my turn to repeat my vows, and then Manning his.

  I’d asked Manning once, months ago, if we should write our own vows, but he’d said no. He wanted to marry me in front of friends and family, but our most private and intimate feelings were just that—private and intimate. After so many years of not sharing with Manning how I felt, he was the only person I cared to tell anyway.

  We exchanged rings. Manning placed my palm in his and kissed the back of it before sliding on a simple gold band. I put a matching ring on his roughened hand.

  “By the power vested in me,” the minister said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Manning—”

  Manning’s mouth slid into a sly smile. “Yes?”

  “You may now kiss your bride.”

  Manning gathered me in his arms, but instead of kissing me, he shifted to whisper in my ear. “I love you, Lake Sutter. I don’t know why you trusted me that first day or any day after it. You mesmerized me. There was, and still is, something in the way you are. Your blue eyes brought peace and light to my dark and noisy head.” He drew back and took a moment to collect himself. “I think maybe you saved me, Birdy.”

  With his last words, my tears finally slid free. I shook my head. “You saved yourself.”

  “You did. More than once. If my life wasn’t everything it is,” he said, nodding over the crowd toward our house, “it would be nothing.”

  I fisted his lapels to pull him closer, crying openly now. “Manning.”

  “Yeah, Birdy.”

  He picked me up by my waist so I could whisper in his ear. “I told you City Hall would’ve been fine, that the where and how and when didn’t matter. But you saw right through me. Deep down, I still held on to the fear that we wouldn’t make it here. That we wouldn’t get this moment. So, I pretended it wasn’t important who witnessed it, or how it was done, but it is, and you knew that. Maybe I saved your life, I don’t know about that, but you love me with an intensity that can’t be reckoned with. I fear for anyone who tries to get in our way. I’d say I want to spend forever with you, but forever isn’t long enough.”

  “No, it isn’t,” he agreed.

  “Now kiss me, Great Bear, and let’s make this official.”

  10

  Two hours into our marriage, I’d already lost my husband. Husband. My toes curled, and not just because I was failing to contain my happiness. The word husband actually did things to me—things that made me want to steal him away from the reception. That might’ve been possible anywhere else, but not in our home, where guests would easily miss us.

  My gut told me he’d snuck off on purpose, so I wasn’t surprised to find him in the front yard with Henry and my dad. Each of them stood with loosened ties, a tumbler in one hand, and a cigar in the other.

  “What’d I tell you, Manning?” Dad asked, winking at me as I picked up the skirt of my dress and descended the porch steps. “Now that you’re married, you won’t get ten minutes to yourself.”

  “That so?” Manning opened an arm to me, and I fit myself to his side.

  “I don’t think he minds,” Henry said with a gentle smile.

  “I’m not here to force him back to the party,” I promised, sliding one arm inside his suit jacket and around his waist. “I just missed him.”

  Manning set his drink on the porch railing and balanced the cigar next to it. I lifted my face when he cupped my cheek for a kiss. “I keep meaning to tell you how beautiful you look,” he said.

  “You told me,” I said. “About ten times so far. The last time was thirty minutes ago.”

  “Well, I’ve been meaning to say it for thirty minutes.”

  I could’ve basked in his adoration all night, and I planned to, but that would have to wait.

  “I recognize that look,” Dad said, sounding as if he might be approaching his drink limit. “You two better be careful.”

  Manning pecked my forehead, then took his cigar from the railing. “Why’s that?”

  I had a
good buzz going from the champagne, so I picked up Manning’s drink. “What is this?” I asked, sniffing it.

  “Scotch,” Manning answered as I took a sip. “It’s strong.”

  Dad blew out a cloud of white smoke, then waved it away. “Kaplan women get pregnant at the drop of a hat.”

  I spit out the Scotch and coughed so hard that Manning took the drink away.

  “Easy,” Dad said. “That’s three-hundred-dollar liquor, Lake.”

  Manning patted my back. “You all right?” he asked.

  Eyes watering, I nodded. Then I shook my head. No. Had my father really said that? My dad didn’t bother with things that didn’t interest him. If he took to meddling in my sex life the way he had my education, then I was definitely not all right.

  “I’ll get you some water,” Henry said, setting down his cigar to go in the house.

  My burning throat kept me from thanking him—and from stopping my dad from making his point, which he always did.

  “When your mother told me she wanted a kid,” Dad said, “I wasn’t sure we were ready. Well, damn if we didn’t conceive Tiffany the moment I agreed. Sure felt that way.”

  “Dad,” I protested, my voice creaking. “Overshare.”

  “It’s basic biology, Lake. It was the same with you.” He turned to Manning. “I told Cathy we ought to give Tiffany a sibling, and nine months later, she had one.”

  I hid my face in Manning’s jacket. “Make it stop.”

  Manning chuckled. “It’s come up a few times, sir.”

  “That’s what I was worried about,” Dad said. “Keep in mind that Lake has a lot ahead of her. Just because she’s done with school doesn’t mean this next part is easy.”

  Henry appeared next to me with a water. “Don’t want grandkids?” he asked my dad.

  I took the bottle with a “thank you” and gulped water through my embarrassment.

  “I do, and Lord knows Cathy does, but there’s a time for that, and it isn’t when she owes tens of thousands in student loans.”

  “Students loans are an epidemic in this country,” Manning agreed.

  Since Manning was always reminding me when I stressed about money that my loans were the good kind of debt, I knew they didn’t bother him; this was his way of changing the subject. Certainly my dad’s words needled him the way they did me. But then, their meaning started to settle in—and a far bigger, more disheartening realization eclipsed any of my irritation. Kaplan women were actually extremely fertile. In fact, Tiffany had ruined my first shot at a relationship with Manning years ago with her sudden pregnancy. And this time, she hadn’t even been trying with Robby.

  Kaplan women get pregnant at the drop of a hat.

  Each month I got my period, Manning reassured me it was nothing to worry about. These things took time—they happened on their own schedule. Though pregnancy had definitely been on my mind, Manning’s Zen attitude, and the fact that we’d started a little earlier than we’d planned, hadn’t given me a strong sense of urgency. But now, hours into our marriage, I worried about what lay ahead—and behind us. Tonight, Manning had made me his wife. Beginning with our week in New York, we’d had plenty of conversations over the years about children. I wanted a family, but Manning needed one. A little girl to protect, to right the wrongs of his past and his father. Or a son to spend weekends with, fishing on the lake or building furniture in the work shed. I’d just stood in front of our friends and family and promised Manning a future, a family, a forever. Pressure built each month I got my period, and I’d definitely considered that there might be an issue, but for the first time I wondered—was there a chance I physically couldn’t get pregnant?

  Ever?

  “Feel better?” Henry asked.

  I blinked out of my daze. “Sorry?”

  “The coughing. Went down the wrong tube, eh?”

  “Yes. Thank you for the water.” I cleared my throat. “I haven’t had a chance to meet your granddaughter yet. She’s barely made a peep all night.”

  “Kara was so worried the baby would ruin the ceremony. She stood in the back with her the whole time in case they needed to make a break for it.”

  “How old?” Dad asked.

  Henry smiled through a puff of his cigar. “Five months. My first grandkid.”

  Manning shook his head, lifting his glass. “She’s beautiful. I feel like an uncle.”

  “You are, kid. We’re lucky that Kara and her husband moved down the street. I see Abby almost every day.”

  “You might not feel so lucky when they’re calling you to babysit every weekend,” Dad said.

  “I don’t mind.” Henry swirled his drink. “I’m retired. I could use the money.”

  My dad looked disgusted. “They pay you?”

  Henry laughed, and it was such a rare, joyous sound that I joined in. “I’m kidding,” he said. “I got the time, and the baby grows on you.”

  “Grows on you? You’re crazy for her.” Manning got an ashtray from the deck and put out his cigar. “You’re like a new man, Henry.”

  “A baby’ll do that to you.”

  “I look forward to it.” Manning set down his drink and my empty water bottle before taking my hand. “Come on and I’ll introduce you.”

  I flashed a wave at my dad and Henry as Manning led me around the side of the house. So I’d stolen him away after all—which reminded me why I’d gone looking for him in the first place.

  I stopped walking when we were halfway around the house and pulled Manning back by his hand.

  “What is it?” he asked, turning to me.

  “There’s something about the word husband, isn’t there?” I asked. “Try it.”

  He stepped into me, lowering his voice as he emphasized, “Husband.”

  I laughed. “I mean try it the other way. Call me your wife.”

  “My wife.” With his next step, we retreated until my back was up against the side of the house and we were hidden from the partygoers. “I really fucking like it, Wife.”

  From the backyard, I recognized the thumping bass of an Usher song on the sound system we’d rented. Perfect baby-making music. I slid my hands up Manning’s suit and around his neck. “Me too.”

  He took my face in his hands and, for the first time as my husband, kissed me for real—without eyes on us and less politely than he had in front of others. “We can’t do this now,” he said. “I mean, I can do this now . . .” He moved his pelvis against my stomach, pinning me to the wall with his growing hard-on. “But I love your dress too much to risk ruining it.”

  “That’s your concern? My dress?” I breathed. “Not the guests a few feet away?”

  He half-smiled. “Them too. I want to preserve this dress, but once it comes off . . .”

  I bit my bottom lip. “What happens then?”

  “I’m taking full advantage of our first night as a married couple. No distractions.”

  Not that Manning was ever really distracted when it came to sex, but tonight, the determination in his expression made me wriggle between his body and the wall. “I can’t wait.”

  “Stop drinking,” he said. “I’ve only had two tonight. I recommend you get a coffee and take it easy. Conserve your energy.”

  I frowned. “How come?”

  “We’re going to be at it all night.”

  “Manning.” I blushed at his unapologetic bluntness. “We have people staying at the house until tomorrow.”

  “Not anymore. I booked them all at a hotel in town.”

  I put my hands on his chest, trying to read him in the dark. “No you didn’t.”

  “I did. I’m sorry, Lake.” He shrugged. “I tried to tell you I wouldn’t have people in my home on my wedding night.”

  “And I told you I’d be quiet.”

  He snorted. “Impossible. Not in our bed, not the first night you’re my wife. I would’ve had to take you out to the stable.”

  I scoff-laughed, shoving him away. “I’m not a wild animal,” I said, walki
ng off.

  He grabbed my hand and fell in step beside me. “But I am, and you’re in heat, so you better gird your loins.”

  “Gird my loins?” I asked. “I’m in heat?”

  “Maybe. You’re about halfway between periods, right?”

  I stopped and turned to him, taking my hand back. “Wait, what?” I asked. “You’re serious?”

  “I don’t know for sure,” he said. “But this is around the time you’d be ovulating.”

  “You think about that?” I asked.

  “Not a lot,” he said, laughing, “but sometimes. I was paging through some of your textbooks a while back and got curious about the process.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “But is that something you plan sex around?”

  “I don’t, not that I’d need to.” He closed the distance between us, tucking my hair behind my ear. “You initiate more around this time each month. You never noticed?”

  “No,” I said. “I mean, of course I understand how it works given what I do, but I wasn’t keeping track or anything.”

  “It’s not a big deal,” he said. “You know I’m ready to go any time, any day, ovulating or not. But sometimes I wonder . . . and I can tell you I’ll be wondering tonight if . . .”

  “If what?”

  “If we’re conceiving.”

  “That’s what you’re thinking about during sex?”

  He lowered his head—and his voice. “Whether I’m putting a baby in you? Yeah, sometimes, and it gets me so fucking hot, Lake.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said, my face warming as I put my hands on his chest to hold him off. The hunger developing in his eyes told me we were a few moments away from me having to walk into the party ahead of him to shield his crotch. “Let’s pick this up later when we can do something about it.”

  “Sooner the better,” he growled in my ear, as if it were some kind of threat.