Leaving the show was the first difficult step I’d made toward happiness in a while. Tonight would be the second. It would hurt, but I’d finally let go of Manning to allow for a life that’d always centered around him. Maybe that had always been Manning’s purpose, and the sum of our experiences over the years—he’d helped shape me into my own woman instead of someone else’s.
I slowed the car and turned when I reached the mailbox. Manning was right that he had lots of space and no immediate neighbors. A thicket of trees lined the driveway. I’d rolled down the window once I’d entered the mountains, and the air smelled of pine and dirt and 1993.
When the house came into view, I held in a gasp. It was just how I’d imagined except bigger, a kind of rustic yet modern resort glowing with amber light. The honey-colored cabin had a sprawling wraparound porch, large glass windows, and a stone chimney. Big, dark, and comforting, it pulled me in, both exhilarating and calming me. It was impossible to look away from, raw and rough on the outside while exuding warmth. This home was all Manning in every way.
I parked along a patch of grass and turned off the engine. There were stacks of wood off to one side by what looked like an unfinished picnic table. Camping chairs surrounded a fire pit out front. He’d parked his truck in front of the garage and beyond that was a warehouse-looking space that appeared to be closed up for the night.
I got the acute sense that this should’ve been my life. And wasn’t that why I’d come, to stop this persistent feeling of incompleteness? A half-finished love sat heavy in my chest. I hadn’t even seen Manning yet, and already, I ached. How could I spend an evening here and leave it all at the end? That question might’ve been enough to get me to turn the car around, except that I’d already walked away twice before, and I still hadn’t been able to reclaim my life. I needed to tell him we were done. I needed to see with my own eyes that whatever we’d once had was gone so I could walk forward on the path he’d been blocking for over a decade.
Manning came through the screen door, walked over to the car, and leaned his hands on the hood to look through the open window. “Well, here’s a sight I never thought I’d see. Finally got your license.”
I laughed. There wasn’t anything funny about it, but I was nervous. “You have to have one in L.A.”
He glanced around. “Too bad it’s an automatic. You know how to drive a stick?”
“What do you think?”
“’Course you don’t.” He winked. “Probably never dated a man who could handle a manual transmission.”
I relaxed back in my seat with his teasing, staring up at him. I was sure I wore that old look on my face that always betrayed my feelings for him. I never seemed to be able to help that around him. “Did I get here too early?”
“Just a few months,” he said, “but I guess that’s life.”
“Months?” I asked. “You mean minutes. If dinner’s not ready, I can help.”
He opened the car door and checked me out. “Come on and help then, cowgirl.”
I couldn’t help blushing. I’d borrowed Val’s Steve Madden cowboy boots to pair with a denim skirt and light sweater. I took the keys from the ignition, got my purse, and slid out. “The house is beautiful.”
“Thing is, it’s not completely done yet,” he said as we walked up the drive. “I thought I’d have more time before you saw it. There’s a lot more I want to do.”
What he was saying didn’t quite make sense, but maybe he was just as edgy as I was. He’d never been all that great at small talk.
“Oh, wait,” I said, stopping. “I left the window down. I should lock up the car.”
“Nothing to worry about out here.” He placed a hand on my upper back, urging me along. “Well,” he added, squeezing my shoulder, “except maybe wildlife. I know you get a little nervous about those bears.”
Goosebumps slid down my spine, hardening my nipples. Manning’s hand on me had been many things over the years—restrained, curious, soothing, hungry. But it always elicited a reaction, no matter what.
Because he was looking at me, he almost stumbled on the first step to the porch. I reached out to steady him, smiling, and decided to just break the ice for us both. “Maybe the bear’s the one who’s nervous.”
He laughed a little, wiping his palms on his jeans. “Maybe I am.”
Now that I was closer to him, I smelled the soap and aftershave, the freshness of his laundry detergent. Even his hair looked trimmed since this morning. He’d gotten ready for me, and if I was honest, I’d known my cowgirl outfit wouldn’t go without comment from him.