Manning slid open the kitchen door for Tiffany, who removed her shrug on her way out of the kitchen.
Noticing my half-empty glass, he picked up the bottle of wine I’d been drinking from the last half hour on his way over to me. “You good?” he asked under his breath.
“I think so.”
“Yeah?” he asked, refilling my drink. “Did it not go well? She was weirdly calm out there.”
“No, she was fine. I was so shocked that I’m not even sure I remember what we talked about. But . . .”
“Dinner’s ready. Go tell your father.” Mom paused while separating dinner rolls into a basket, as if suddenly recalling this wasn’t just another Sunday dinner. “Never mind. I’ll get him.”
Once Manning and I were alone, he asked, “But what? What’s the matter?”
“It’s strange to see you and Tiffany together. She seems so comfortable with you.”
He set down the bottle and took my jaw in one big hand, lifting my face to him. “That’s good, Lake. Trust me, I’ve never seen her and I would know—she’s in love.”
“With a doctor,” I added.
He laughed. “Yeah. She doesn’t give a rat’s ass about us beyond making sure we know what he does for a living. She isn’t looking to cause us any trouble.”
As he leaned in for a kiss, I checked that we were still alone. “That’s probably not appropriate,” I told him.
“Lake,” he said in the same firm but exasperated tone he used whenever I pulled away from him.
“You can wait until we’re home.”
With a frown, he let me go. “If I can’t kiss you, then you better tell me what I want to hear.”
“I love you,” I said. “Isn’t putting myself through this evidence of that?”
“Hate having to keep my fucking hands off you again. It’s like I’m twenty-goddamn-three all over again.”
Despite his earnest expression, I couldn’t help laughing. “It really is funny if you think about it, us being here.”
“Hilarious.” He stuck his hands in his pockets as my dad entered the kitchen with Mom and Tiffany trailing behind him.
“Hmm,” Dad said, circling the island. “Pie . . .”
I figured that was the best I could hope for. He wasn’t red in the face or kicking us out or locking himself in his study—not yet, anyway. “With blueberries,” I added.
“With apples,” Tiffany said.
“In the same pie?” he asked.
Tiffany’s giggle caused one to bubble up in me as well, but I swallowed it down, still unsure of how to read everyone’s mood.
“No, Daddy,” Tiffany said, fluttering her lashes. “I made apple, Lake brought blueberry. You have to choose.”
He grunted before leaving the kitchen. I knew before I heard the clink of glass on glass in the den that he was pouring himself a drink. “Well, go on,” he called, as if he could sense our unease from the next room. “Let’s sit and eat your mother’s dinner.”
“Robby loves apple pie,” Tiffany said. She and I gravitated right to our regular seats at the table, as if no time had passed. “That’s why I made it.”
“He’s coming tonight?” I asked.
“No. We were walking out the door when he got a page. He’s on call a lot.”
“What kind of doctor is he?” Manning asked, setting my refilled wineglass in front of me.
“A pediatrician,” she quipped. “Did I not mention that?”
A-ha. Patience was a requirement of Robby’s job. “No wonder,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “What’s that mean?”
“Nothing,” Manning answered for me, helping me scoot my chair closer to the table before he sat. “He must like kids.”
“He does,” she said. “It’s all he can talk about.”
Manning put an arm around the back of my chair. One thing he’d asked of me today was that I didn’t talk about our decision to have children. He liked that it only belonged to us for now, and I agreed. By the way he squeezed my shoulder, he must’ve known what was coming.
“Oh, grandbabies,” my mom gushed as she carried dishes into the dining room. She waited until my dad was at the table to place one in front of him.
“What the hell are those?” he asked.
“Your daughter made it,” she said as she returned to the kitchen. “Something different to spice up our table.”
“They’re tamales,” I said.
“Mexican food?” Dad asked. “You brought them?”
“You don’t have to eat them,” Tiffany said to him. “But they actually smell pretty good.”
“I’m with Robby, you know,” Mom said, floating back into the room with the roast. “I can’t wait for both of you girls to have babies.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be far off.” Dad picked up the carving knife. “Manning here has just asked for my blessing to marry Lake.”
7
With my eyes on my empty plate, I couldn’t tell if the silence following my dad’s declaration was surprise or something else. Announcing our impending wedding was part of the reason we were here, but I’d assumed Manning would be the one to bring it up.