Whatever Val had said to him, he’d been brooding ever since. He’d fussed with my scarf and coat outside the apartment before insisting he walk closest to the curb. Admittedly, it hadn’t been the best time for Val and Roger to burst in. I thought back to Manning’s confession about his dad and squeezed closer to him.
“Cold?” he asked.
“A little.”
“We’re almost there.”
Had I known Manning was trying to reconcile his own desires for me against his father’s for Maddy, would I have done anything differently? I couldn’t be sure, because I didn’t see things the way he did. What Manning’s father had done to a nine-year-old girl had nothing to do with love or attraction. Manning and I had never so much as kissed. Just because he’d felt something for me when I was under eighteen didn’t mean he was a sexual predator or some kind of innate monster. I saw it clear as day, but Manning had always struggled to see himself as I did.
When I glanced up, I caught Manning half-turned, doing a double take at a church with massive wooden doors decorated with wreathes and bows. “What is it?” I asked. He looked forward again, silent. He’d never struck me as the religious type, so I couldn’t fathom what had crossed his mind. “What are you thinking about?”
He took a few moments to respond. “Marriage.”
With one night left, that was the last thing I wanted to talk about. His marriage had nothing to do with me. Everybody involved had known going in what Manning and I had, but they’d chosen to pursue the relationship anyway. Manning had made his own decisions, and so had Tiffany.
We were quiet so long, we passed another church. This one had tiny white lights strung along its staircase railings and an enormous stained glass Jesus that looked upon us.
Manning’s cell rang, and he took it out of his pocket before silencing it. He hadn’t looked at me in blocks. “Who was that?” I asked.
We turned a corner and sidestepped a man shoveling the sidewalk outside a bodega.
Manning stopped. “I need a cigarette before we get to the hotel,” he said. “And then I think we should talk about the logistics of what comes next. I know it’s unpleasant, but it is what it is.”
The clerk placed his shovel against a wall and followed Manning inside. I turned my back on them, on the harsh light streaming from the store onto the sidewalk. I didn’t see what there was to talk about. I’d thought the plan was for him to come back as soon as possible. I didn’t need to hear the horrible details of how it would happen. We were about to do an awful thing, and if we could stop ourselves, we would, so what was the point in beating the topic to death?
A woman passed me, the toddler attached to her hand pulling the opposite direction, trying to get to the fresh pile of snow the shop clerk had created. The boy managed to wiggle free and jump into the heap with both boots. She picked him up, playfully rolling her eyes at me as she hauled him off. I smiled at them. I hadn’t seen snow fall until I’d moved to New York, but in the four and a half years I’d been here, I’d never just played in the snow like that. I’d been forced to grow up fast, to fend for myself. Since Manning had arrived, I’d finally started to feel light again. I wasn’t ready to let go of that. Of him.
I felt Manning’s eyes on me, a sixth sense I’d developed from being unable to communicate with him any other way when I was younger. I looked back at him leaning between the shovel and a display of poinsettias and miniature Christmas trees. He stuffed a pack of Marlboros in his pocket, watching me as he cupped a hand around his mouth and lit a cigarette. “If this was easy,” he said, “we would’ve done it long ago.”
“If what was easy?”
“You and me.”
“Can’t we talk about it tomorrow before you leave?” I asked, sighing. I wanted to go back to that day at the ice skating rink when we’d done nothing but wander, kiss and touch, eat and make love. “Watch this.” I turned to face him completely. With a sly smile, I walked backward a few steps and planed my arms. “Ready?”
“What for?”
I leaned back on my heels until my balance wavered, then fell into the snow with a crunch. Winging my arms and legs like jumping jacks, I grinned. “Look,” I said. “I’m making a snow angel.”
“I see.”
I froze right through my cheap coat, the ends of my hair wetted, but I got up on my elbows and smiled at him. “Come make one with me.”