Move the Stars (Something in the Way 3)

I stuck my chin in my hand. Val and I had been talking about a trip to Europe once she had some time off. “I have some money saved. I think I might travel a little.”

With his last bite, he slid his plate away. “You should. We both should.”

We could go together, I wanted to say. Remember architecture in Barcelona? Playhouses in London? Instead, I patted my mouth with my napkin. “We’ll see. I’ve actually made other plans that might interfere.”

“Yeah?” He took a few uneven breaths. “What . . . plans?”

It was hard to believe after all this time, Manning and I were just having dinner and conversation. We were the same people but different, in a place that was the same but different. Physically and emotionally. I was saying things I’d only just begun to discover about myself. “I wonder a lot about what it would’ve been like if I’d gone to USC. I think at the end, before I left, I’d convinced myself that being a doctor or lawyer or businesswoman was what Dad wanted, not me. But I actually didn’t know. I ran away to get back at all of you. I would’ve made a good doctor. Or lawyer. Or businesswoman.”

“I agree,” he said. “But you’re great at whatever you set your mind to.”

Manning truly believed that, and I thought the same of him. “I’ve been giving all that a lot of thought, and I think I decided what’s next.” I took another bite and smiled. “Are you ready for this?”

“All my life.” He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Tell me what you’re meant to do.”

“I’m going back to school.” My heart rate kicked up a notch anticipating his reaction. “To be a veterinarian.”

He laughed. “Well, well. Lake Dolly Kaplan.”

I scowled hearing my full name, but I couldn’t help the grin that broke through. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what? This is my unsurprised face.”

“You knew all along?”

“No,” he said, “but hearing you say it, it feels good. Feels right.”

“I thought the same thing when you told me about the furniture.” I smiled, sticking my hands between my knees. “I don’t know where I’ll go to school yet, but at least it’s a start.”

As he grew quiet, and I finished my wine, I sensed a shift in him. He’d just laughed, and that was kind of rare, so most likely, he was transitioning into Serious Manning now to overcompensate. After a few moments, he asked, “You wouldn’t stay here for school?”

“I don’t know. I can go anywhere.” I looked over at the palace Manning had built. “I don’t have anything like this. It’s just me.”

“Do you want all this?” he asked. “Would it make you happy? When you close your eyes like we did that night we made snow angels, where’s home?”

I inhaled deeply through my nose, shut my eyes, and waited for home to reveal itself. But only the afterimage of the lit-up house glowed yellow behind my lids. I saw Manning’s home, and then I saw Manning.

Manning was all I saw.

All I’d ever seen.

I kept it to myself. We weren’t in that place anymore. I’d learned a lot of things over the years, and one was that it wasn’t always fair to tell him how I felt. Another was that none of us were guaranteed anything in this life—especially true happiness. Why should I have it? Why had I thought, all those years ago, I deserved it? And at the expense of those who loved me? I opened my eyes.

Manning, as always, was watching me closely. “You all right?” he asked.

“That last day, in the hotel . . .” I said, turning the wineglass on the table. “Did I do the right thing, telling you to go back to her?”

Poor Manning looked completely caught off guard by the question. He sat back on the bench. “I . . . yeah, Lake. Yeah, you did. I mean, I understood why.”

“I’m so sorry about what happened, the . . .” I took a deep breath. Manning had to have been devastated over losing a baby, but it hadn’t been my time to be there for him. “The miscarriage.”

He dropped his eyes to my hand, watching as I fidgeted with my drink. “I know you are.”

“I wish I’d told you sooner, I just couldn’t. I couldn’t face you after we’d planned a life together that never happened. You’d been through so much heartache, and then the divorce—I didn’t know where I stood, or if you still believed we could work.”

After a few moments, he reached across the table, covered my hand, and looked up at me. “You know what I believe?”

I fought the urge to flip my palm up and braid our fingers together in such a way that it’d be impossible to undo before the night was over. “What?”