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“Is that why you do sales?” I asked. “Because of the money?”
He seemed to think. In the corner of my eye, the digital clock by the bed changed to eight on the dot. “In jail, and after I got out, I was helpless. I worried my future was nothing more than hard labor. I don’t ever want to feel that way again.”
“Will it be hard to find work as a felon?”
“Of course, but this job I have now, it’ll help. I can show them my salary, my capabilities, and hopefully that’ll be enough.”
“But in sales, you never create anything. You sell other people’s ideas and things.” My leg began to sweat between his, but I kept it there. “Don’t you still want to help people like you used to?”
“You know I can’t.”
“I don’t mean as a cop. You can help in other ways, like building homes. Homes are important. You spend most of your life in one. I’d trust you to build my home.”
He narrowed his eyes at me and pinched my bottom. “Well, that’s not all that flattering. After this apartment, a clown car would be a step up.”
I stuck my tongue out at him. “You’ll be surprised how quickly you get used to it.”
“Yeah? I thought maybe we’d get our own place when I come.”
I shook my head. “I like it here. You can do what you want with your money, but I’ll pay my share of the rent, and this is what I can afford.”
“Well, then . . . a few repairs are in order. You won’t begrudge me that, will you?” As if Manning had planned it himself, my faulty radiator groaned in the next room. “Tiffany and I are remodeling, and I’ve hardly touched a tool. I’m too busy sitting in an office earning the money to pay for all the nice things we can’t seem to live without.”
“Manning.” I couldn’t bear it. I tried to separate his old life from this one, but I couldn’t. I hated that it meant I didn’t get to know about who he’d become over the past few years, but it was too much. “I don’t want that office job for you. I don’t care about money. I’ve lived the past few years without it. Do something you love.”
“I love work that gives me the means to make you happy.”
“And what would make me happy is to see you building homes or making furniture or whatever it is that satisfies you.”
He lifted his head to see me better. “Furniture?”
“You made that coffee table with Gary. The one I saw in the back of your truck? Remember, it was my eighteenth birthday?”
“Your eighteenth birthday,” he repeated, laughter in his voice. “Did you throw that in for good measure or what?”
I also smiled. Since the moment I’d met Manning until June ninth 1995, turning eighteen had been front and center of my world. “It was a big day,” I said.
“Yeah it was. I’ll make something small now and then, but mostly I’m too busy for furniture. Gary, he’s doing the same old thing he always was. Except that he got married. Did you know?”
Aside from Henry, Manning’s father figure, I guessed Gary was probably Manning’s closest friend. As proud as I was that I’d introduced them at that first camp meeting, I couldn’t help the way my heart pinched remembering that other life. “I haven’t seen Gary since the last day I saw you. The wedding.”
Manning put his big, bear hand over my hair and his lips to the top of my head. I let him kiss away the memory because tonight, in his arms, was possibly the best moment of my life and I didn’t want to ruin it.
“I did get to make a couple pieces for the house,” Manning said, “and I try to refurbish things on weekends, but it can be tough.”
“Then you can do it all here. Make furniture or build homes or fix my apartment, whatever,” I said. “It’ll be a fresh start.”
He grunted, thumbing the corner of my lips. “That’s my girl. Keep living in the clouds, and I’ll take care of the rest. What’s cold?”
I was all warmed up, but I wasn’t about to pass up an invitation to be touched. “My butt.”
He grinned, then took a handful of my backside. “Do you miss the warmth? The beach?”
I tried not to show that I did. I didn’t want Manning to think I regretted my decision to leave. I didn’t—it was what I’d needed to do at the time. Watching him marry Tiffany, going through the motions of giving a maid of honor speech, receiving congratulations, watching them dance at the reception—it’d been clear there’d been no other choice.
But at times, I did miss Orange County, more than I wanted to admit. My family, my past, my youth, were all there. I couldn’t bring myself to admit it, though. “No. I’ve had an amazing time here, and now that I’ve graduated, I’ll get to devote all my free time to finding work.”
