I shook my head slowly, my stomach fluttering. “I . . . what?”
He opened his arms, showing me his impressive wingspan. “Tell me what the fuck we’re going to do. We go back to the bonfire and what? You going to tell Tiffany the wedding’s off and I’m leaving her for you, or should I? Then what?”
I swallowed, my heart pounding at just the thought of telling Tiffany, at the pain I’d cause. Was I ready to do it right this instant? No, but I would find the strength—for him. “Then we be together.”
“So how exactly does it work? Do we go to your parents’ tonight and tell them the good news? Because if we don’t, Tiffany will. So we pack up your things and go . . . where?”
“I—I don’t know.” I could hardly wrap my head around what he was saying, because the details didn’t matter. We mattered. This love mattered. I burrowed into my sweater, suddenly freezing cold. “I’ll stay home, and you can go to . . .” He couldn’t return to Tiffany’s. As it was, she’d probably burn his things. “A hotel. Go to Gary’s.”
“What makes you think your dad won’t wring my neck before I walk out the front door? Why the hell do you think he’s so happy about this wedding?”
A wave crashed hard, and water slithered up around my ankles. Manning walked backward, up to dry land.
“It’s only a few months,” I said, pushing my feet through the sand, following him. “Then I’ll be in the dorms.”
“And me?” He fisted his shirt, right over his heart. “What will I do? I can’t live in a dorm.”
“We’ll find you an apartment in Los Angeles—”
“My parole mandates that I live within county lines.”
“Then I’ll drive back and forth.” I grasped at straws, feeling like I was losing a battle I’d always been so confident I’d win. “I’ll come nights, weekends—”
“Between classes, homework, exams—not to mention all the fun shit you’re supposed to do in college—you really want to be driving two hours each weekend to stay with your ex-con boyfriend?”
“Yes,” I said quietly. My hands began to shake as my dreams sifted through my fingers. I’d been holding on at any cost, but Manning insisted on smashing everything into smaller and smaller pieces until our future was nothing but grains of sand under my feet.
“Even if I could move to L.A.,” he said, “I’d have to find a landlord willing to rent to a felon, and then I’d have to come up with first-and-last month, security deposit, and rent each month.”
I shook my head hard. “We’ll find a way.”
“My savings went to the court, to some woman I supposedly traumatized when I was with you,” he said. “And your dad has a job for me. A good one, in construction.”
“My dad?” I asked. “Why are you bringing him into this? Who cares about him?”
“I do. I care, Lake.” Up until now, he’d been heated, but suddenly, his voice became grave. “I want the same things for you and Tiffany that he does. He’s not my enemy. In fact, he’s going to look into wiping my record clean. I want that so much, Lake, you can’t understand.”
“I can, because I want that, maybe even more than you.” I touched the base of my neck, my pulse thumping under my fingertips. “You aren’t the one who has to live with the guilt of knowing your hands are constantly tied because of decisions I made.”
“Exactly. I’m the one with the tied hands. You think he’ll do anything for me after this? You think he won’t spend every free minute he has scheming to get me out of your life?”
“We don’t need him.” Even as I said it, guilt panged in my heart. He was my dad. As much as he frustrated me, I loved him, and I cared what he thought. Manning was right—Dad’d never be okay with this. I hadn’t really considered that having Manning in my life might mean losing not just Tiffany, but my dad, too. “You’ll find another job.” My voice weakened. “Another apartment.”
“It’s not that simple, Lake. I have nowhere to live, no car, no money, my credit is shot and I’m on parole. I’m a criminal. These things matter.”
“No, they don’t. They’re just dumb details—”
“They’re life, Lake. Relationships, marriage, they don’t run on love alone. I tried to tell you that, I . . .” His throat rippled as he clenched his teeth. “My parents were as different as you and me, and they thought love was enough. My dad loved my mom so intensely, he sometimes hurt her. And us,” he added quietly.
My chin shook. He had to know we weren’t his parents. I did. He was my soul mate. Didn’t that mean we’d be together one day, no matter what? Wasn’t that the definition of a soul mate? Tiffany would always be able to find someone else. Her soul mate was still out there. But me? Manning? This was it for us. We could fake it all we wanted, but the truth was, there was nobody else out there for me, or for Manning. We needed each other. “You’d never hurt me,” I said. “And even if I thought there was a chance you might, I’m still willing to take that risk.”