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“Yes you do.”
I wanted him, at any cost. I wanted to make his wish come true and turn him into a father. That was the truth, but I couldn’t force it out of myself, even though he probably needed to know it with what lay ahead of him. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not here in this hotel. Not while you’re still with her.”
I thought he’d argue, but instead he said, “I understand.”
“Will you tell her about us?” I asked. “Or just that you want a divorce?”
“She has to know. They all do. But I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to do it. Not only do I have to think about her and your mom and dad, but there’s the legal side of things, getting a lawyer when I won’t have a job . . .”
He kept talking, but all I needed to hear was “dad” for my blood to boil. Much of the situation we were in was his fault. The more time that went by, the more convinced I was that Dad had pushed Manning and Tiffany together to keep me focused on school and away from Manning. “He’ll try to get you to stay,” I said, cutting him off. “He’ll do something.”
“Nothing can keep me away, Birdy. I’m coming back to you.”
“When?”
“If I could tell you, I would. I have no way of knowing that.”
I thought about how it would feel when he was back with Tiffany while I waited here for him. It would be impossibly hard. He’d be with her. He’d be hurting her for me. “Maybe I should come with you.”
“I don’t think you should.”
The soothing steam of the shower, the rhythmic beat of water drops against the tub floor, the utter pleasure just from being held by Manning—none of it could dislodge the pit in my stomach. Could I ask Manning to do this alone? Did Tiffany deserve the chance to look me in the face when I upended her life?
“But she’s my sister.”
“If you’re there, it’s a memory that will haunt you, Lake. I can give you the gift of bearing that memory for you.”
Manning was always shouldering the burden of us. I hadn’t forgotten his words that night on the beach, how he bore things I didn’t even know about so they wouldn’t fall on me. I touched his cheek. “You shouldn’t have to shield me all the time. I’m older now. I don’t need to be protected.”
“You know I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He pulled me closer, kissing the space between my breasts. He brushed his lips over my hardened nipples, down my waist. His hands wandered everywhere he could reach, from my lower back down to my ankles. His mouth became hungrier. Redness bloomed wherever his lips touched.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he said hoarsely. “What’ll get me through every night without you is knowing I won’t have to hold back when I return. I’ll be able to have you over and over until I’m forced to stop because another round can only kill you.”
“You can never kill me,” I panted. “Not this way.”
He kissed my stomach, then flattened both his palms over it. “Lake,” he murmured.
I stared at his hands on me as they softened. “Manning.”
“You know you could be pregnant already.”
I shivered, steadying myself on his shoulders. One time, we’d lost ourselves to the moment—was that enough to change the course of our future? It would be hard. I had no money; he’d have no job. There was a lot of pain ahead of us, and that was no environment for a child. But as all the things that could go wrong filtered through my mind, I realized Manning didn’t sound scared, or even surprised. “What if I am?”
“Then a baby will come out in nine months.”
“Manning, stop.” I tried to push away from him, but he had his hands on my waist now, his scruff scratching the sensitive skin of my tummy. “We can’t,” I said. “What would we do? I should take the morning-after pill.”
“I want the chance to make things right with the universe,” he said. “To be the opposite of my father.”
“You can have all that, but not now. We can’t have a baby, Manning.” The statement was so ridiculous, I had to laugh. “There are so many reasons we can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“Have a baby.”
Manning stood suddenly, forcing me to step back. He shut off the shower and got out. His movements were abrupt, his mood darkening. I stepped onto the bathmat, soaking it as he leaned his hands against the bathroom counter and looked at himself in the mirror.
“Are you mad?” I asked.
His jet-black hair dripped water into the sink. He was as aroused as I’d ever seen him, his eyes hot, his knuckles whitened from his grip, his penis purple at the head. He opened an arm to me, and I went to stand in front of the mirror with my back to him, letting him cage me in. He raised to his full height. Barefoot, I barely came up to his chin.
