Manning and I drove out of my parents’ cul-de-sac after dark. We weren’t the only ones leaving the beach on a Sunday night, but even without traffic, I suspected the drive home still would’ve felt longer than the one up. It was definitely quieter.

“What’re you thinking about over there, Birdy?” Manning asked.

I spun my wedding ring, picturing its soothing, pearly stone in the dark. “Just how empty it feels.”

“The puppies are in great hands,” he said. “Val was excited. Lydia would’ve taken two if she could’ve. Even your dad fell in love with Rebecca. You should be proud of yourself. And happy.”

The way he said happy made me think he could sense that I wasn’t, but that didn’t surprise me. Manning always seemed to know how I was feeling, sometimes before I could even name it. “I’m tired, that’s all.”

“You’ve been quiet since before dinner. Did you really want to keep the puppies? I thought you were joking.”

“No. There’s no way we could handle raising five all at once.”

Manning stayed quiet a few miles, long enough for me to assume he’d dropped whatever he was getting at. Deep down, though, I knew he hadn’t, so I wasn’t surprised when he broke the silence again.

“Then it has to be about Val’s news.”

I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to talk about this. I didn’t want to think about it anymore. I didn’t want to feel like such a failure. Why couldn’t he ever just leave it alone? For the first time in my life, I wished he didn’t love me so much, didn’t try to protect me from everyone—even myself. “I’m happy for them.”

“I know you are.”

“So can we leave it at that?”

“You know we can’t,” he said.

“I have a headache.” I stared out the passenger side window as the landscape changed from breezy, lively Newport Beach to the dark, still mountains. Manning and I had taken this drive many times, but none would ever be as thrilling as the first. The night we’d driven into town, around perfect neighborhoods, and into unforgiving woods, had been one of the best of my life. True, he’d had too many cares and worries for such a young age, ones I’d adopted as my own, but even now, I’d go back, just for tonight. Especially if it meant escaping what lay ahead of us.

Manning didn’t push the subject. He let me sulk for the remainder of the drive, but I wasn’t off the hook. Not only because Manning wouldn’t let me go long in a mood like this, but also because of what Corbin had said. I owed Manning the truth; I just didn’t know how or when I was going to tell him.

A few miles from the house, around ten, Manning’s cell rang. He flipped it open. “Yeah?” he asked, pausing. “No, it’s all right. I’m glad you called.” He listened, steering us onto the small road toward the house. “Yeah,” he said, his tone wooden. “I understand.”

He squinted ahead, ignoring me as I tried to get his attention. “Manning?” I whispered.

“Makes sense,” he said into the phone. “It’s been a while since I was in the business, so I can’t say I don’t understand. Keep me in mind, though. Sure.” He snapped the phone shut.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“Excuse me?” I asked. “This is a two-way street, you know. If I have to talk about my stupid feelings, so do you.”

His nostrils flared as he pulled into our long driveway. “Big Bear’s tearing down and rebuilding some public restrooms on the other side of the lake. Joe at the city said he’d put in a good word for me.”

I wrinkled my nose. “For furniture?”

“I submitted a bid, but Joe wanted to tell me personally it would be rejected.”

“As a contractor? You don’t even have a crew.”

“I’ve been getting one together. It’s—it was—a small job.”

“You never mentioned that. I didn’t even know you were thinking about any of this until this afternoon.”

“Doesn’t matter now.” He parked and got out, slamming his door shut and starting around the front of the truck.

I hopped down before he reached my side. “Have you submitted for anything else?” I asked as Blue whined from the back gate. After her accidental pregnancy, and with so many puppies, Manning had put up a temporary fence.

“Not yet.” He went up the porch steps as Blue ran around back to her dog door. “I still need to register as a business, but I wanted to get the ball rolling.”

Register as a business? “Are you doing this for real?” I asked. “What about furniture?”

“I can do both.” He opened the front door for Blue, and Altair and Vega came tumbling out after her. Manning took their leashes from the foyer. “Who wants to go for a walk?”

Blue went berserk at the word walk, and the puppies followed suit, yelping as they ran circles around Manning’s boots.

Well, I’d gotten what I’d wished for. Manning was no longer looking at me, trying to read my every last thought, or soothe my worries. He focused on getting the dogs leashed, then stomped down the steps, right past me.

I turned around to watch him go. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

Inside, I prepared three bowls of kibble with raw meat, and waited at the dinner table for Manning. My bad mood had rubbed off on him, and as a result, I felt more guilty than annoyed. Waiting for me to get pregnant couldn’t be any easier for him than it had been for me. For the first time, it occurred to me—what if he thought he was the problem?

*

Half asleep with my back to the door, I stirred when Manning entered our bedroom, the dogs’ nails clicking on the wood floor after him. He set something on the nightstand, slid between the sheets and up against my backside. “Lake,” he murmured.

“Hmm?”

“I need you.”

I turned to him. “What do you need, Great Bear?”

He rolled on top of me, pushing my sleepshirt to my waist and sliding his hand down the front of my underwear. “Kiss me.”

I put an arm around his neck, gasping as he plunged one finger into me and then another. I lifted my mouth to his, and as soon as our lips touched, he turned frantic, finger fucking me until I was so wet I could hear it. He shoved down his pants, and I had only seconds to wrap my legs around him before he drove into me.

I made a squeak of surprise, and he paused, his breath warm on my cheek. “Lake.”

Once I’d gotten over the initial shock of him, I exhaled. “I’m fine, Manning, just . . .”

“What, Birdy?”

“I love you. So much.”

He drew his hips back. “And still less than I love you.”

“Impossible,” I whispered. “Take what you need.”

He lifted onto his arms and did just that, fast and hard, until I’d slid to the top of the bed with the force of his thrusts. He stopped to put a pillow between me and the headboard, then grabbed the rail for leverage as he resumed fucking me. “You want a baby?” he growled at me.

I was high enough on him, raw and aroused enough to growl right back. “Yes.”

“You’re going to come with me, understand? Your tight motherfucking pussy’s gonna squeeze every last drop out of me.”

“Yes,” I groaned, resigning my will, my heart, my body to him.

He didn’t relent until I started to come apart, orgasming around him as he plunged to the hilt and came deep. He collapsed on top of me, a sign he was truly lost to the moment, since he normally worried about crushing me. Without words, because there really wasn’t anything to say in those rawest moments, we each drifted to sleep.

I woke up alone in the middle of the night and looked over at the clock on his nightstand. I had to sit up to read it since he’d left a bottle of aspirin and water in the way. For my headache, I guessed. It was two in the morning and silent in the house.

The puppies slept soundlessly, but Blue was gone. I rubbed my eyes, sitting back against the headboard.

“You want a baby?”

I wasn’t dense. Manning had probably known all along what was going on with me. This wasn’t the same kind of obstacle we’d come up against in the past. Back then, we’d had a sliver of control over our destiny, and we’d taken that little bit and pushed it wide enough to make room for ourselves. This time, it was out of our hands. This was the circle of life, and I was being weeded out of the ground.

Did I want a baby? What the hell did he think? That if he fucked me hard enough, came deep enough, wanted it badly enough, then it would happen?

I got out of bed, put on my slippers and robe, and searched the house. When I’d checked the kitchen and den, I stopped at a closed door in the hallway. I hadn’t been in what was supposed to have been a temporary office in months. We’d been so sure we’d get pregnant quickly and need the tiny room.

The porch light gave him away. I went out the front door and almost tripped over Blue resting at the top of the steps. I crouched down to pet her. Manning stood by the fire pit in his sweats, one hand in his hoodie pocket, the other delivering a cigarette to and from his mouth. He faced the house, staring forward, not seeming to notice me. Even from a distance I could see concern threading his brows.

He took his hand from his pocket to massage the bridge of his nose, then the back of his neck and shoulders. There was no question he was concerned about our future. Maybe he’d had a hunch all along that a baby wasn’t in our cards but had been putting on a brave face for me. He was such a good man. The best man. Always putting me first, making sure I was happy. I wanted nothing more than to thank him for that by making him a father. By showing him the kind of mother I could be to his children. Was there any better way to express how deeply I loved him? And if I couldn’t, would I be enough for him as I was?

Forever?

No. How could I be? No matter how much Manning loved me, and he couldn’t any more than he already did, it would never compare to the love a parent has for his child. Although not bearing my own children was proving painful to come to terms with, not being able to give that to Manning was the real knife in my gut.

I wanted to go to him, but tears built at the base of my throat. If he treated me the way he did every day—with love and respect and endless affection—I’d break down and tell him everything.

Manning blinked and shifted his gaze, as if waking from a dream. “Everything okay?” he asked me.

I pulled my robe more tightly around me, suddenly noticing the cold night air on my bare legs. “I woke up, and you weren’t there.”

He showed me his cigarette. “I needed one.”

I descended the steps and crossed the lawn to him. The act of walking, of moving, cleared the ever-present haunting thoughts from my head and extinguished any urge to cry. He’d almost quit this shit, but now he was back at it, using nicotine to calm his thoughts when I had to live with the turmoil of my own. That didn’t seem fair. I glared at the cigarette. “Why?”

He flicked ash into the grass and shook his head. “Got a lot on my mind.”

“And I don’t?” Guilt gnawed at me, an overwhelming sense of inadequacy prickling its way up my chest, a kind of emotional heartburn. Why didn’t he just come out and admit there was a problem? Why didn’t he ask me to go to a doctor, to do something, to get confirmation that we were fucked? “I don’t understand why you can’t quit,” I said. “Why do you need this? Why do you put yourself at risk every fucking day—every night?”

“I don’t smoke every night.”

“Really? This isn’t the first time I’ve woken up and found you gone. You’d rather spend your time out here killing yourself than in a warm bed next to your wife?”

He studied the cigarette a moment, then looked back at me. “I’ve had this habit since the day you met me, Lake.”

“Stupid me. I always thought I could love you enough that you’d stop killing yourself for me. I used to think Tiffany was so weak for letting you smoke.”

“I told you, nobody makes me do what I don’t want to. Everything I do for you, I do because I want to. Because I love you. This,” he said, holding up the smoke, “is for me.”

“Why?”

“Because it feels good.”

“And because it’s the only thing that brings you peace. You have so much on your mind that you have to drug yourself.” Blue appeared at my side as I balled my hands into fists. “You told me in the truck I couldn’t get away with not telling you what was wrong, but you keep stuff from me.”

“I don’t,” he said calmly. “I have in the past, yes, but not anymore. I respect you too much. You want to know what’s on my mind? I’ll tell you. Babies.”

My heart sank. I curled my toes in my slippers and muttered, “I knew it.”

“They cost money. As do dogs. Happy as I am running my own business, I have no guarantees. There’s no employer paying my wages or providing us health coverage or contributing to my 401k. I’m that employer. It’s on me.”

“Money?” I asked, my mind reeling to catch up. “You’re worried about money?”

“Fuck yes I am.”

Blue whimpered the way she sometimes did when one of us cursed.

“You can’t honestly tell me it’s never crossed your mind that my business might dry up and go away tomorrow,” he said. “And then what? What happens when we have a small human to take care of?”

I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it. Manning was worried about supporting a family he probably wouldn’t have. “I can honestly say that has never crossed my mind. Your business isn’t going to collapse for no reason, but if it does, I make a good salary. I’ve got great healthcare. You don’t have to be the breadwinner.”

He shook his head, cigarette between his lips as he pulled up his sagging sweatpants. “I’ve always wanted to take care of my family, since the day you met me. Don’t act so surprised.”

“I’ve never met anybody more responsible with money than you,” I said. “You’ve been saving since you were fifteen. You even survived the market crash.”

“I might not’ve if I’d hired on help a few months earlier like your dad wanted me to.” He gestured at the workshop behind the house. “If my business fails, I fail anyone who works for me. They have families, too.”

I hadn’t even realized all this was running through his mind. He’d assured me over and over I could talk to him about anything bothering me, but had he not felt I’d reciprocate? “I wouldn’t trust my family with anyone else,” I said. “I have every faith we’ll be fine, and you know why? Because you’ve never given me a reason to feel otherwise.”

He looked to the sky. “Lake, if I love my child anywhere near as much as I did my sister, and obviously, that’ll be the case . . . I don’t know.” With his eyes up, I watched his throat ripple as he swallowed. “I’d never survive losing them . . . or you.”

I pulled on his arm to get him to look at me, but he wouldn’t. “Manning?” I asked.

“Yeah, Birdy.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me. I promise.”

Without moving his head, he let his eyes drop to mine. “You don’t know that. I want a guarantee that I can fix the bad things that might lie ahead of us. Money is the best way to do that.”

I covered my mouth at the sad irony. In vitro fertilization and adoption were options, and neither was cheap—but all the money in the world wouldn’t guarantee a baby of our own.

“Go inside,” he said when I shivered. “You’re not wearing enough clothing to be out here.”

I didn’t know what to say. How to tell him the truth. I focused on the orange tip of his cigarette as it flared with his next drag. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m not,” he said, exhaling. “I’m looking out for you. I don’t want you to get sick.”

“That’s because you care about me, and I care about you, too.” I tried to snatch the smoke from him, but he held it over his head.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Put it out, Manning.” Warmth rose to my cheeks as he stood there defying me. I’d had enough of the disgusting habit. “I’m serious.”

“I’ll come inside in a sec. I’m almost done.”

“Maybe that,” I snapped, pointing at the cancer stick in his hand, “is why we can’t have babies. Did you ever think of that?”

He jerked back as if I’d suddenly sprouted a second head. “What?”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” I said, raising my voice, “I’m—not—pregnant. And after sixteen months of trying, it’s time to stop pretending this isn’t real.”

Manning had frozen in place. Slowly, he squatted to put out his cigarette. “Nobody’s pretending.”

“Aren’t you?” I asked. “Don’t lie and say you haven’t noticed how long it’s taking.”

“I’ve noticed, yeah, but I just figured it takes us a little longer than others. We have time.”

“You don’t get it,” I said, tears overwhelming me. “I can’t get pregnant.”

“We don’t know—”

“I do. I do know. I’ve been to the doctor and she did an exam, and she thinks I’m . . .”

He stared up at me, his eyes wide. “You’re what?”

“Infertile.”

I looked down at him, at the cigarette butt pinched between his fingers. It was a fucked-up thing to blurt out. It was even more fucked up to blame him for this when I knew it wasn’t his fault. He’d been nothing but supportive and didn’t deserve to be ambushed. I wasn’t sure why I’d done it, but I got a strong sense of satisfaction when he ashed out the cigarette. Maybe that was why I’d suddenly needed him to know—to put a stop to his worrying.

“When was this?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” I asked, sniffling.

“Yes.”

“January.”

“And you never thought to mention it?” he asked. “That was months ago.”

“Of course I did. It’s all I’ve been able to think about. I didn’t know how to tell you, though. I was scared—”

“No shit, Lake,” he said, standing. “That’s why you should’ve told me.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Yes it is. How am I supposed to be here for you if you shut me out?”

He reached for me, but I stepped back. If he held me now, I’d never get the rest of it out. “I wanted to get a second opinion first,” I said. “I didn’t want you to hurt the way I’m hurting unless I knew for absolute sure.” I inhaled a shaky breath. “But when everyone around me is getting knocked up out of nowhere—Tiffany, Val, Blue—”

“Blue’s a dog, Lake.”

“She wasn’t supposed to get pregnant, and neither was Val. But I am. We deserve this.”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like inside my head?” He tapped his temple, his jaw tight. “I think about you all the time. I’ve told you before, I want every one of your thoughts.”

I’d already heard that same speech once today. Manning needed to know everything about anything to do with me—that was no surprise. “Then you can thank Corbin for convincing me to talk to you.”

“Corbin?” he asked. “What the fuck does he have to do with this?”

“Nothing.” I didn’t want to keep my conversation with him from Manning, but as soon as I said it, I realized I’d made it sound as if I’d said all these things to Corbin first. “I didn’t tell him any details, just that you and I have been trying—”

“You talked to him about this?”

“I’m saying no, I didn’t.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it felt like one. I bit my bottom lip. “Not really. When he saw how I reacted to Val’s news, he put two and two together and guessed we were having trouble.”

Manning shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “Lake, you don’t ever talk to anybody but me about something like this, especially not him. Especially not before you talk to me.”

“I didn’t discuss it with him,” I said, exasperated. “We talked about getting pregnant, that’s all.”

“And you told him we were having trouble? Before you and I have even opened the door to that conversation?”

I thought of how tense I’d been watching Manning and Tiffany talk alone. I wrapped my arms around myself. “I guess.”

“It’s none of his goddamn business.”

“He was trying to help. For God’s sake, he was on your side. You act like he’s trying to come between us, something I thought we’d moved past.”

He snorted, pulling a pack from his pocket. “I could give a fuck about him. He’s no threat to what you and I have.” He slid out another cigarette. “But when we’re talking about the most important thing in our lives, I come first. You come first. That’s it.”

“But—”

“You have no argument here, Lake. You’re in the wrong.”

Frustration boiled up in me so fast, my chin trembled. So what if I was wrong? Didn’t I have the right to be? To get upset for no reason? To know I’d messed up and not want to acknowledge it? I might be infertile. I was trying to tell Manning this was the end of a future we’d counted on.

I pinched my robe closed at the neck. “Enjoy your fucking cigarette,” I said as I turned back for the house.