Something in the Way(35)

"We don't want any wine," I said. "She's underage."

Tiffany nodded. "I changed my mind."

With a visible sneer, Bucky muttered something under his breath that  sounded like asshole. I had no idea what the fuck his problem was, but I  didn't ask him to repeat himself. I wouldn't be able to control my  reaction if I was right.

"This is so good," Tiffany said when we were alone again.

The food smelled damn tempting, but our conversation still weighed on my  mind. "You don't think she'll head down that path, right?"

Tiffany cut her meatballs into halves. "Who?"

"Lake." I was pretty sure I knew the answer, but I wasn't around much in  the big scheme of things. "The parties and sneaking out and stuff."

"Oh. No."

I exhaled. Lake had a good head on her shoulders, and I had to trust that. I went to pick up my fork.

"She should," Tiffany added, "but she probably won't."

I paused. "What do you mean should?"

"It makes me a little sad how she just does what Dad says all the time. Like he's so perfect? He isn't, you know."

I had to agree there. "Still, it means she stays out of trouble."

"And has no fun. I'm not saying she needs to be like I was. I don't want  her to be. I just don't want her to look back and wish she'd been more .  . . I don't know. Balanced. Social. So what if she has a little too  much to drink one night and embarrasses herself doing karaoke at a  party? Or misses curfew because she lost track of time talking to a cute  boy? Or ditches one class to go get ice cream at the mall?" She took a  sip of water. "Big deal. She'll be eighteen in a couple years anyway."

I stared at her. I hadn't even taken a bite. Was she saying Lake was  almost eighteen? The way I'd been looking at it, she still had two long  years to go, to change, to become who she was meant to be.

"Why do you bring her up so much?" Tiffany asked.

That was simple. "I worry."

"But why?" Her tone was casual as she twirled noodles onto her fork. She lifted a shoulder. "You guys have a weird friendship."                       
       
           



       

A tremor of panic rose up my chest. Couldn't I have just kept my fucking  mouth shut? No, because that was what Lake did to me. Truth was, I had  good reason to be worried. A reason that would shut Tiffany right up. I  just didn't want to share it. I sat back in my seat, staring at my food  for a minute as I worked up the nerve.

"You're not eating," Tiffany said, blinking big, pretty eyes at me,  seemingly concerned. "I told you you'd spoil your appetite if you ate  dinner with the kids."

I glanced at my untouched food, my silverware, the melting candle. Then  at Tiffany. She was right. The friendship was weird, and I didn't want  her thinking too hard about that. "My sister died," I said.

Tiffany stopped chewing. "What?"

"I had a little sister. I can't . . . talk about it. I don't want to.  But that's why I get so protective of Lake. I don't ever want you or  your family to go through what mine did."

"Oh, God," she whispered, letting her fork clatter onto the plate. "I'm  so sorry. I had no idea. When you mentioned your sister, I thought . . .  I thought-"

"It's okay." I needed her to stop talking. "It's been years, so."

"What was her name?"

I swallowed. I didn't talk about Maddy. I would never say her name to a  stranger, and that was how most people had felt to me since it'd  happened. "Can't."

She took my hand. "Was she sick?"

My head began to swim. I nodded just to end the conversation, even if it was with a lie.

"Manning?" Tiffany stood up and came to me.

I tried to stop her. "You really don't need to-"

She moved the table, actually pushed it back a foot, so she could sit on my lap.

"Tiff," I said, but I put my arms around her. "I don't want to talk about it."

She touched my cheek, running her thumb over the corner of my mouth. "I'm sorry."

I wasn't sure how to feel. I didn't want to talk about it, period. But  it felt nice to be touched. It was something I hadn't had in a long  time, the soothing touch of a woman who cared. "Thanks."

She ran her long fingernails over my hairline, and my eyes drooped shut. "That's why you're so protective."

"Part of it."

She took my face in both hands and kissed my forehead. "I can't imagine if that happened to Lake. I'd die."

My throat thickened. Thinking that could happen to Lake, but also that  Tiffany cared way more about her sister than she let on. I wished I  could promise Tiffany it would never happen, but that was the thing  about Maddy's death. I hadn't fathomed it was even a possibility until  it'd already happened. If I had, I would've done anything to prevent it.

I patted Tiffany's ass. "Come on. Let's not ruin the date. It's going well."

She pulled back and looked me in the face. There was no minty breath, no  cigarette reek stuck to her. Just the earthy tomato sauce and wood  cabin. She got up and went back to her side of the table. "Will you  finally eat something?"

I picked up my fork and took a bite. "You should know," I said, "that I  eat a lot." I shoved noodles in my mouth, and my words came out muffled.  "A lot."

"Yuck." Tiffany giggled. "That's disgusting."

I washed down my bite with water. "You should see me with lasagna. Fucking massacre."

She laughed harder. Tiffany took a forkful, pursed her lips, and slurped  up a noodle. Tomato sauce splattered over her mouth, and instead of  wiping it off right away, she just smiled and chewed. She was all right  when she dropped the show. Her attitude could even be cute. The  highlights, pink nail polish, low-cut tops-they didn't attract me. Not  more than any girl I might meet in a bar. This side of her, I could  spend time with.

Dessert was store-bought chocolate cake with raspberry drizzle. Tiffany took two bites and slid her plate away. "I'm on a diet."

"You don't need to be on a diet."

"That's because I'm on one." She waggled her eyebrows as if she'd bested me. "If I weren't, I wouldn't look this good."

I wouldn't argue with that. She did look good, and I liked that she knew  it. That was one difference between Tiffany and a lot of the girls I'd  met over the last few years. I ate half her cake in one bite and  swallowed. "You think I should go on a diet?"

She smiled. "No. You're a guy, and a big one. You can eat as much as you want. You work out, too. Don't you?"                       
       
           



       

"Construction kind of requires it."

She looked at her plate, which had become mine, and frowned. "I've been  meaning to say . . . I'm sorry if my dad made you feel bad about what  you do."

"I get it. He wants you to be taken care of." I liked construction but  not that my next job was always up in the air. I saved every dime I  could just in case. I didn't ever want to end up with nothing to offer.  In that way, I understood Tiffany's dad. When the time came, nobody'd  ever be able to accuse me of not taking care of my family.

"Well, it doesn't matter to me. Money's not important."

"You say that because you have it. Living without it sounds glamorous to you."

She waved me off. "I'd rather be in love than rich."

It was becoming clear Tiffany didn't expect much of me when it came to  earning potential. And that she didn't know herself as well as she  thought. A girl like her would always need money. "You're saying you're  okay with spaghetti and meatballs in a small room with a shitty candle  instead of a fancy restaurant?"

"I've been to lots of fancy restaurants. You can't do the slurp-y thing with your noodles."

She might believe she'd choose love over money, but I didn't. Not when  it came down to it. "I get the feeling you aren't really enjoying all  this. Roughing it."

She shrugged, her silliness dimming. "It's fine."

"That wasn't convincing." I sat back in my chair. "Is it the girls?"

"They hate me. I hate them. I can't even . . . I don't know how to handle them."

If I didn't think it'd hurt her feelings, I would've laughed. Surely  Tiffany could see why she was having so much trouble. The girls were  mini-versions of her. I leaned my elbows on the table. "Know what I  think?"

"What?"

"There isn't a person here who could handle them better than you."

She rolled her eyes. "That's because you haven't spent any time with my cabin."

"Those kids, they're just starting to learn about makeup and boys and clothing. Who knows more about that girly shit than you?"