Lake + Manning: Something in the Way, 4

by Jessica Hawkins

  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 missed 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, walking 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.

  I shivered, and he slid an arm around my shoulders on our way back to the reception. Anything to do with providing, protecting, or mating, and Manning turned into a caveman. I loved how turned on it made him, but it also shone light on a truth I wasn’t sure I was ready to face—Manning would not accept anything less than a biological baby. What if I couldn’t give him that? What if I couldn’t give myself that? I wanted to raise Manning’s boy into the man his father was, or teach my little girl that she deserved to be treated with all the love and respect her father gave her.

  As we rounded the side of the house, we were met with a chorus of suggestive oohs and aahs that made me blush. Normally, presumptions or interest in our sex life from anyone would bother Manning, but he just rolled his eyes and hugged me closer. He’d been in great spirits all
weekend. I had to shake this feeling of what if, or I was going to cast a storm cloud over one of the best days of my life.

  Kara, Henry’s daughter, stood near a picnic table swinging her newborn side to side in rhythm with the Black Eyed Peas. Her hair was coming loose from its bun, brown strands framing her face. Blue lay at her feet, her ears up as she watched the crowd.

  “Lake wanted to meet the baby,” Manning said to Kara as we approached.

  Kara smiled. “She’s asleep now, but it’s okay. She’s cuter that way.”

  I peered at the rosy-cheeked little girl. “I’m glad you and your husband could make it,” I told Kara.

  “Us too. I’d wake her up for you, but she’d make a scene. I haven’t stopped rocking her since we got out of the car.”

  “Did you get to eat at least?” I asked.

  “A few bites here and there.”

  “We’ll have to get you some food.” I squatted to pet Blue. “I hope the dog wasn’t bothering you.”

  “Not at all. She’s playing lookout.” Kara bounced as she spoke, pausing to blow a piece of hair out of her eyes. “Our dog does the same thing. When there are people around, she stands near the baby.”

  “What kind of dog?” I asked.

  “Lab mix. We got her from the pound a few years ago and weren’t sure how she’d do with a baby, but she’s been very protective.”

  “They’re great with kids. I help our local shelter place animals, and Labs are always the first request by young families.”

  Kara stretched her neck. “They’re easy, and that’s the best you can hope for with a newborn in the house.”

  “Why don’t you let me take over,” Manning suggested to Kara, gesturing for the baby. “You look exhausted. Take a break.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Are you sure? It’s not as easy as it looks, trying to keep her moving without waking her.”

  I stood, smoothing out my dress. “He’ll be fine. I can take you to get some food.”

  “You two are angels,” Kara whispered, stealthily passing Abby to Manning. The newborn looked even smaller and paler in his arms, her pink bow and smooth skin soft against his bronzed forearms. “Thank you.”

  He hardly looked up from the little girl as he murmured, “No problem.”

  It was possible that the last baby Manning had held was Madison, yet he cradled Kara’s daughter with ease, swaying her side to side. He seemed to have forgotten we were even standing there, completely enamored by a little girl that wasn’t even his own. Kara’s daughter was precious, but I doubted I’d feel that same connection Manning obviously did unless she was mine. Then again, I’d never met anyone who loved as deeply as he did. Maybe Manning was enjoying himself, but I had no doubt he’d be forever changed holding his own child.

  As I was about to turn away, Manning glanced up at me. I read what he didn’t say clearly in his eyes. I want one.

  I quickly switched my attention to Kara. “Let’s eat,” I said to her.

  Manning had wanted to work the grill tonight—probably because it would’ve gotten him out of socializing—but with over fifty guests, I’d convinced him to hire a local barbeque restaurant to cater. I took Kara to a buffet table of warming dishes, salad, and a meat station managed by the head chef.

  “Thank you so much for the invitation to stay with you,” she said as I handed her a plastic plate. “We would’ve, but with the baby, it was easier to get a hotel.”

  “I understand. I figured with a newborn it might help if we offered.”

  “We appreciated it.” She served herself salad and passed me the tongs. “The ceremony was beautiful. Manning looked so happy during your first dance. He must really love you. Or Aerosmith.”

  I snorted. We’d slow-danced to “Crazy,” possibly the worst wedding song in history, but Manning had wanted it. It’d been playing on our bus ride to camp in 1993, and Manning had later told me it was one of the first moments he’d realized how deep into trouble he was getting with me. Mostly because as a man normally in control, he couldn’t get himself out of trouble.

  “Manning’s been happy in general lately,” I said. “I know he’s glad you and your dad could be here.”

  “They have a great relationship. I think my dad would’ve loved to have him as a son-in-law if I’d been older when Manning had started coming around.” As we worked our way toward the meat station, she elbowed me. “Good thing I was only seven.”

  Kara had a warm, nonjudgmental smile; the kind that put me instinctively at ease. “I met Manning when I was sixteen,” I confessed. I hadn’t said that to many people, and certainly not those I barely knew. Manning and I were married now, and while our age difference had once seemed like the world, it was now an anecdote of a hard-earned history nobody could take from us. “He wouldn’t touch me, but that only made me want him more.”

  “I understand completely. I wasn’t going to say, but I definitely had a small crush on him from about ten to seventeen.” She giggled. “He was so handsome and mature and serious. Nothing like the boys I went to school with.”

  “So serious,” I agreed. It made me laugh now to think of how tense Manning must’ve been when I was around back then. “How’d you meet your husband?”

  “Work.” She shrugged, spooning mashed potatoes onto her plate. “Not nearly as exciting as stealing my sister’s ex-con husband.”

  I laughed too hard at that. “Exciting is one way of putting it.”

  I introduced Kara to the restaurant’s head chef, and he sliced us some steak and pork. The moment she and I stopped talking, I could almost feel Manning’s adoration radiating from thirty feet away. Part of me wanted to look back and glean some hope from the sight of him with Abby, and the other part worried it’d be an image that would haunt me more and more with each month my period returned. “What’s it like having a newborn in the house?” I asked Kara, both out of curiosity and to distract myself.

  “It’s . . .” She half-laughed. “It’s as amazing as everyone says, and about as awful as nobody says. Everything you hear about—lack of sleep, shit everywhere, tension in your marriage—times it by ten.”

  “It sounds like more of an adventure than anything.”

  “It so is. Magical, too. That part you can’t really describe.” At the end of the buffet, we each picked a fork and knife from a pile of silverware. “What about you and Manning?” she asked. “I mean, not to add pressure. I know how annoying it is to get those questions, especially on your wedding day.”

  Maybe it wasn’t just that Kara had an open, trustworthy face, but also that she was one of the few people in attendance who’d shown up for Manning. She’d known him before I had, and she cared about him. “Between you and me,” I said, “Manning and I are trying. It’s soon, but sometimes it feels like we waited our whole lives to get to this day. Life is short. We shouldn’t have to wait for the things we want anymore.”

  “That’s so romantic,” she said, sighing. We set our plates and silverware on a high-top table to eat. “I can’t get over the way he looks at you. It’s every girl’s dream.” She forked some spinach leaves and grimaced. “I hope I didn’t scare you off the baby thing.”

  “No,” I said. “I mean, I don’t know if we really grasp what we’re getting ourselves into. Admittedly, we didn’t think it through very hard. I only graduated a few months ago, and I’m about to start work . . .”

  “Yeah, but there’s never really a good time, you know?” She nodded behind me. “I mean, seems like Manning might be thinking it through pretty hard right now.”

  Thinking it through? As much as I hated to admit it, my dad’s words earlier made sense. Now wasn’t the best time for a baby. Was Manning having second thoughts, too? I turned, expecting to see Abby bawling in his arms and exasperation on his face. Instead, she slept soundly. His eyes were still glued to her as he held her against his chest.

  I’d never seen Manning so gentle. So lost. He rarely let his guard down in public or took his eyes off what was
happening around him—a side effect of his time in jail. He was a natural at this, probably more so than I would be. Then again, he’d done it before. He’d been old enough when his sister was born to help raise her.

  “I think it’s safe to say he wants one,” Kara added.

  A lump formed in my throat. “He does.”

  11

  Kara and I were still standing at a high-top table with our half-finished dinners, watching Manning with her baby, when Val strode over waving a plastic champagne flute at us.

  “Who are we gossiping about?” she asked, then gasped as her eyes landed on Manning. “Look at him. He’s in heaven.”

  “All right,” I said, turning forward again. I could’ve stood and stared at him the rest of the night, memorizing every breath he held, the way he hunched over the baby, warning others off. That was why I had to look away. “Let’s not make a spectacle of him.”

  “Oh my God,” my mom squealed behind me. “Lake, are you seeing this?”

  “I saw, Mom,” I said as she walked up. I checked over my shoulder, but Manning still hadn’t noticed he was drawing an audience. “Leave him alone or you might spook him.”

  “He’s just so sweet.” She nudged me. “Meant to have a baby of his own in his arms.”

  I turned to Val. She was an easy target, and it probably wasn’t fair to take aim, but I’d need big guns to get everyone off this subject. “You’ve been avoiding me lately. Why?”

  My plan worked. Everyone in the group turned to look at Val.

  “What?” she asked. “How can I be avoiding you while standing in front of you?”

  “Normally, you’re up my butt about everything from my relationship to my job to what I ate for dinner. Lately, you’ve been quiet on all fronts.”

  “What’s left to say?” she asked, motioning around the yard. “You have it all figured out.”

  “I don’t buy it. Where there’s no drama, you’ll invent it. You do that for a living.” Val was always working on some kind of script. She’d recently directed her third short film and it’d been picked up by a couple smaller festivals. I narrowed my eyes at her. “It has to be a guy. You’re seeing someone, and you don’t want me to know about it.”