Lake + Manning: Something in the Way, 4

by Jessica Hawkins

  “It’s okay,” I said. It wasn’t really okay, but I needed Manning to believe I could handle this. I needed to know I could, or else I’d give up on completing our family altogether. “Take me to the couch, Great Bear. You can carry me and put blankets over me and feed me soup. You’re so good at taking care of me.”

  “It’s positive.”

  “I know,” I said before he’d even gotten the words out—except what? My heart dropped to my feet, and I froze, my fingertip between stars. I didn’t move an inch, not even to breathe, in case I might disrupt the delicate synergy of a moment fate had decided to bestow on us. “Positive?” I asked, trying out the word.

  “There are pink lines. Two of them. One is kind of faint, but . . . that’s positive?” He knew it was, we’d done this often enough, but it came out sounding like a question anyway.

  I excavated myself from inside his shirt, pushing back strands of my hair as they went wild with static. “Are you sure?” I took the test from him. Even with the positive result in front of me, I shook my head. “It can’t be right.”

  “Why not?”

  The emotion in his voice made me look up. His clenched jaw and big brown eyes undid me. I didn’t want to let myself think this could be true, but Manning already believed it.

  I closed my eyes. It was too early to get excited. There was a chance the test was faulty. I felt behind me for the tub so I could sit again. An unbidden tear slid down my cheek. “Manning . . .”

  He kneeled in front of me. “I know.”

  I shook my head. “I’m scared.”

  “I’m not going to tell you not to be,” he said, taking my waist. “I’m not going to promise everything’ll be all right.”

  “I don’t need you to.” I put my hands on his shoulders. “But I can’t flip on my excitement like a switch. I need time to absorb this.”

  “I understand.” He ran a thumb up the center of my tummy, and I shivered. “First thing Monday, I’ll make us a doctor’s appointment.”

  I tried to focus on his warm eyes that didn’t judge or dismiss my fears. On his familiarly briny, masculine smell. On the way all ten of his fingers loosened on me, as if he’d just realized what was growing beneath them. Because my gut told me I was growing. In that moment, I couldn’t believe I’d ever doubted it. “There’s a baby in there,” I whispered.

  He pinched the inside corners of his eyes. I still hadn’t ever seen him cry—he’d only come close a handful of times, like when opening up about his sister’s drowning, or the time in New York when I’d forced him to say goodbye, and then when we’d exchanged vows.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as a few tears tracked down his cheeks.

  “Why?” I asked, taking his face in my hands.

  “I want to be strong for you.”

  “You are, baby.” I kissed his resilient face, the lip that had been scarred and nose that’d been broken defending my honor. The gray hairs that’d started to shade his stubble, the lines that hadn’t been there even five years ago, and the features that had, like the dent in his chin. No matter how much we’d been through, good or bad, his soda-pop brown eyes held the same intensity they had back then. I kissed the face his son or daughter would look up to for the first time months from now. To them, he’d be as high in the sky and as important as the sun.

  “I love you, father of my child,” I said.

  “I love you, too,” he said, his voice ‘so deep, it gave me goosebumps on the inside, if that was even possible.’

  I smiled, remembering how painfully naïve and awed I’d been that first day we’d met on the construction lot nineteen years earlier. Squinting up at him like he was too bright.

  We had grown and changed, laughed and hurt—and loved each other through all of it. I was a woman now, but maybe it wasn’t so bad to still be that girl, too—my world warmed and given life by the sun.

  19

  I’d been so eager to get knocked up that I hadn’t stopped to consider timing. Now, eight months and two weeks in, I wished I’d thought it through. Sex should’ve been off the table during any months that might result in a summer pregnancy.

  “Hand me that,” I said to Val, gesturing between us. “Hurry up.”

  The terrified look on her face only annoyed me more. “What are you pointing at?” she asked.

  “Your flip-flop.”

  She and Tiff exchanged a glance that was probably meant to ask if I was insane, but I didn’t care. She took off her shoe and gave it to me. I started fanning myself. “Manning’s house is a million fucking degrees.”

  “Suddenly it’s Manning’s house?” Val asked. “Not yours?”

  “I never signed up to live in a sauna.”

  “It’s really not that bad,” Tiffany said. “But I know when I was pregnant—”

  “It’s not because I’m pregnant,” I said. “It’s the middle of June and Big Bear is experiencing an extreme heat wave.”

  “It’s eighty-five degrees out . . .”

  “Lake is right,” Kara said, nodding at me with a soft smile. I’d gotten to know Henry’s daughter better since my wedding, but I wasn’t as close with her as I was with most of the girls in the room. “Hopefully Manning will get the A.C. fixed soon.”

  “Thank you, Kara,” I said.

  The flip-flop wasn’t cutting it. I tossed it aside, looking for a paper plate, a magazine, an igloo to crawl into—anything. I rocked forward as best I could, stretching for the diaper tree on the coffee table, but in my enormous state, I couldn’t get to it. “Someone hand me one of those.”

  “But it’s arranged so pretty,” said Piper, a friend from my veterinary program.

  Kara moved the tree to the floor next my chair. A chair they’d made me sit in to put me on display.

  I pulled a diaper out and relaxed back in my seat, waving it over my clammy face and neck. “That’s better. Now what?”

  “Well,” Val said slowly, “I had this game planned.”

  “Great,” I said. “I love games. Let’s have some fun.”

  It was only then I noticed how quiet the room was. Val had not only organized me a baby shower, but she’d gone out of her way to invite people from coast to coast. Classmates, friends, and relatives had come from Los Angeles and Pomona, and even Roger had flown in from New York to be here—although, I suspected he was really in California to troll the West Hollywood summer scene. A few of the girls hadn’t made the wedding, and they were floored by the house—I would have to tell Manning when I saw him, assuming I didn’t die of heatstroke.

  We’d all been having a nice time until the brand-new air conditioning unit had gone out. Luckily, Manning had been hiding out with the dogs in his workshop during the party and had jumped into action.

  I made a hurry-up motion with my hand. “What’s the game?”

  “It’s called Dirty Diapers,” Val rushed out.

  “We played it at my shower, and you won, remember?” Tiffany added. “Val and I thought it would be fun. We smash melted chocolate bars into diapers, then pass them around for everyone to guess which candy it is.”

  “Like poop?” I asked.

  “Yes?” Val said.

  “Is that a question?” I asked.

  “We don’t have to do it.” Val smoothed her skirt over her thighs. Bless her, she’d worn a floral pattern for today. It was the most mom-like outfit I’d seen her in since she’d had Ella. “There’s another game where we get out a measuring tape and guess the circumference of your belly . . .”

  Was she serious? I looked like a hot air balloon—I didn’t need confirmation I was actually the size of one. Sweat dripped from my under-boobs down my stomach. I pushed my damp hair behind my ear and shifted in an attempt to dislodge the underwear wedged up my ass.

  Roger winced. “I don’t think measuring anything is such a good idea . . .”

  “Me neither,” I agreed. “I don’t remember the poop game, but I also forgot my niece’s birthday last week and nearly had a panic attack try
ing to get a present in the mail the day before.”

  Tiffany pouted. “You forgot Coco’s birthday?”

  “Yes, and I also forgot you were sitting there,” I said. “Give me a break. Pregnancy brain is a real thing.”

  Everyone laughed nervously. Val stood. “You know, I think I hear Ella crying in the playroom.”

  Tiffany grabbed her wrist. “I don’t hear anything, but even if I did, that’s why we hired a babysitter. I’m sure the kids are fine.”

  Slowly, Val sat. “All right.”

  If Val and Tiffany had formed an alliance, I must’ve really been a monster. I sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just so uncomfortable.” I pointed around the room. “None of you said it would be this bad.”

  “It was the same for me, but I wasn’t around people the final month,” Piper said. “You’re really brave.”

  “Brave, or ignorant?” I asked, shooting Val a look. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have agreed to do it so late.”

  Tiffany stood. “I definitely hear some weird noises coming from the playroom. I should probably check on Coco.”

  “Hey, what about the babysitter?” Val called after her, then muttered, “Traitor.”

  Manning came in the front door, wiping his brow with his t-shirt sleeve as he entered the living room. “Almost there, sweetheart,” he said, smiling as I glared at him. Vega trailed after him the way she always did, barely noticing us. “I just need to play with the thermostat,” he added.

  All the women in the room turned, plus Roger. “Holy shit,” he whispered.

  Manning wore an old t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off. His biceps were as big as my head and covered in a sheen of sweat. For some reason, he was wearing a hardhat. I was pretty sure he hadn’t put that thing on years, which meant it was a hardhat with a purpose. I’d been yelling at him for two weeks straight—and he was definitely trying to remind me of the day we’d met so I’d remember why I loved him. It was working. The girls in the room were practically puddles of drool as they watched Manning stomp through the living room. My insides tightened with a sudden need to drag my husband into our bedroom. Or throw him down on the couch here, everyone else be damned. Had I always had a thing for dirty construction men, or did it only apply to Manning?

  It didn’t help that no matter my mood, or the last time Manning and I had been intimate, I’d been painfully aroused for months. Luckily, Manning had no qualms helping in that department, no matter how far along I was. Even though he regularly commented on my ‘glow,’ he was the radiant one. He couldn’t have been in a better mood lately.

  For the most part, that was . . .

  There was, I’d noticed, something on his mind. He’d started leaving our bed in the middle of the night again, but this time, it wasn’t to smoke—he’d quit the same day we’d gotten our pink lines. Now, he’d take his girl, Vega, on walks instead.

  It wasn’t money. His company had been steadily growing each year—he’d never even had time to pursue contracting like he’d planned—and I’d paid off my student loans a while back. My practice had opened right as the town’s most popular vet had retired, giving me plenty of business.

  All I could guess was that he was nervous about the birth, but he seemed fine whenever it came up. He’d read enough books on the subject that he could probably deliver the baby himself.

  “Sorry, ladies,” Manning said on his way to the hallway thermostat, furrowing his brows at all of us as we stared. “Pretend I’m not here.”

  Nobody looked away. Not even Val. She was not only my best friend, but she’d always hated Manning just a little bit. At the moment, she looked as if she were ready to ditch Corbin for him. We all followed him with our eyes until he’d disappeared into the hall.

  Piper turned back. “That’s your husband?”

  “Has he been working out more than usual?” Val asked.

  Kara shook her head with a dreamy sigh. “He’s always been like that . . . so Manning.”

  I breathed through my nose. Basically, at forty-three, Manning looked better than ever. And I was an obese pig. “Maybe we should end the party early.”

  “No,” some of them wailed.

  Piper stuck out her bottom lip. “You haven’t even opened your presents.”

  As if heaven itself had taken pity on me, the house shuddered ominously and the air conditioning kicked on. “Oh, thank God,” I said.

  Our landline rang, and Manning walked back through the living room toward the kitchen, Vega once again glued to his heels. “No, thank me,” he said.

  I narrowed my eyes on his tight, jean-clad ass. Trust me, I will later.

  When I broke from my trance, everyone was staring at me. “Did I say that aloud?”

  “Get it, girl,” Roger said, winking at me.

  “Don’t worry,” Kara added. “I was super . . . excited . . . during my first pregnancy.”

  “I wasn’t,” Val said. “I practically moved Corbin into a hotel until it was over, he was so annoying.” She smiled a little. “In a sweet way, though.”

  “Robby, too,” Tiffany said, reentering the room. “I hated him, except when I was horny.”

  “Same here,” Val agreed.

  Ugh. The thought of Tiffany and Robby or Val and Corbin or basically anyone in this room having sex was even less appetizing to me than chocolate shit in a diaper. Manning, on the other hand—I could’ve eaten him up like a slice of French Silk. Literally. I was so hungry.

  I stood. “I’ll be right back.”

  In the kitchen, Manning sat on a stool, his elbows planted on the island next to his hardhat as he rubbed a hand over his messy hair. By the distant look on his face, I’d caught him zoning out—and it wasn’t the first time lately.

  “Hey,” I said. Vega blinked at me from where she lay by the kitchen table. “Who was on the phone?”

  “Nobody.” He straightened up. “I’m sorry about the air conditioning.”

  “It’s okay.” I smiled sweetly while I threatened, “As long as it doesn’t go out again.”

  He held an arm open to me. “Come over here.”

  “No. I’m disgusting from sweating all afternoon. I need a cold shower and a nap.”

  “Shower sounds good,” he said, beckoning for me. “Can I at least get a kiss?”

  “Why?” I crossed my arms as best I could over my balloon boobs. “I wish you would just go away until after the birth. I’ve never felt more unattractive.”

  “Aw, Lake.” He chuckled. “My love. My wife. You’re lit from within. You must know you’re as beautiful as ever, and that I’ve never loved you more.”

  My irritation fizzled into tears. I covered my face. “I know you’re only saying that to make me feel better.”

  “Birdy, please.” He got off the stool, came around the island—he had to get behind me to touch me, my stomach was so big—and moved my limp curls off my neck. “You’re carrying my child. How many times do I need to tell you how sexy that is to me?”

  I sighed as my skin cooled. “That feels nice.”

  “Why don’t you put your hair up?” he asked. “Or at least change into a tank top?”

  “I wouldn’t subject my friends to that.”

  He raked my hair away from my face, holding it off my shoulders. “You know, you were making some . . . noises . . . while you slept last night.”

  “I slept last night?”

  He laughed, but only for a second, his voice turning serious as he lowered his hand over the crotch of my jeans. How he could reach that far, I had no idea. “I did an Internet search and guess what? Just like at thirty-three weeks, we’re allowed to fuck at thirty-four.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked, skeptical. “You have the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.”

  “Lake, mine is the only dick you’ve ever seen.”

  “Of course,” I said. I’d forgotten for a moment that Manning had rewritten history, removing any other ‘mutt’ who’d ever come ‘sniffing around’ as he liked to say.

&nbs
p; “Some people even think,” he added seductively, “it could induce labor.”

  “Oh, God,” I moaned, resting my head back against his shoulder. “You’re making me wet.”

  Manning licked and sucked my neck in a way that instantly made me shudder. “If your friends weren’t in the next room, I’d take you in the shower and fuck you right now.”

  I turned around and sobbed into his chest. “Don’t say that. I’m so horny.”

  He laughed, wrapping his arms around me. “I would. I’d do it. Except for the sex in the shower part. We can wait until after. I don’t want you to slip.”

  “I’d bounce right off the floor.”

  “Hang on a little longer,” he said. “As soon as they go, my sperm is going to ripen the hell out of your cervix and possibly stimulate birth.”

  “I’ve never been more turned on.” I sniffled. “I can’t believe you’re hugging me right now. You must have the longest arms in history.”

  “Hey.”

  I looked up at him. “What?”

  He turned me by my shoulders to face the double ovens, our reflection slightly distorted in the chrome and glass doors. “I know you’re joking, but please tell me you know how exceptionally beautiful you are right now. If you don’t, I haven’t done a good enough job showing you.”

  My chin trembled. Again. “I’m sorry. I just don’t feel like myself.”

  “Like the doctor said, you are perfectly within the size and weight you should be.”

  “For carrying a nine-and-a-half-pound baby—you forgot that part.”

  He grimaced. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have fallen for a giant.”

  Soon enough, I’d hold a Manning-sized baby in my arms.

  Manning’s son. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to say that, and now I couldn’t imagine our lives any other way than with a little boy, our third star.

  I covered Manning’s hands on my shoulders. “Yeah, poor me.”

  He released me with a pat on the butt. “You better get back to the party before everyone makes a break for it. I heard a little bit of my moody bitch in there.”

  With a reluctant sigh, I started to leave the kitchen, then paused to look back at him. “You never said who was on the phone.”