Unforgiven

by Rebecca Shea

  “Matt.” I say his name like so many times before to get his attention. This time, there is an unwavering need in my tone. “Do you believe people deserve second chances?” His dark eyes find mine and he contemplates his answer.

  “I believe there are some people who deserve an infinite number of chances.”

  “Why?”

  “Because some people are worth that. You’re worth that, Lindsay.”

  I turn to him and smile. His dark brown eyes glisten in the low lights of the reception hall. His face is serious, yet soft. I drop my eyes to my feet and look away, feeling tears threatening to form behind them. Looking up, I spot Melissa in the center of the room, standing next to a large, round table, her red hair pulled up into a twist and her eyes scanning the crowd, presumably looking for Matt.

  “I think someone is looking for you.” I nod at Melissa. “You should probably go dance with her.” I don’t know why these words hurt so badly, but they do. Maybe it’s my way of telling him it’s okay to move on—I’ve given him my permission to let me go, not that he needed it. It’s only fair he does. I made my decision, the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in walking away from him. My eyes suddenly fill with tears and he makes a move toward me—most likely to comfort me— but he stops. He says nothing, but his eyes speak the words he’s not saying. “I forgive you.” He places his hand on my arm and, for just a moment, my world feels—right.

  “Yeah, I should probably go. Don’t be a stranger, Linds.” He squeezes my arm tenderly before he lets go. I nod my head as he walks away toward a smiling Melissa. I shouldn’t watch, but I do. I watch him lean into her, both of his hands on her forearms, whispering in her ear. She smiles and nods, and he presses a kiss to her cheek. She looks to me, then back to him. This is my cue to leave. I wish nothing but the best for Matt, but I’m not strong enough to stand around and watch the man I love in the arms of another woman—a better woman.

  I set my glass on the table in front of me and excuse myself from the reception rather abruptly. I say a quick goodbye to my mom and Louis and blow a kiss to Landon when he sees me heading for the exit. He knows this has been hard for me and nods his head in approval of my leaving. With a quick wave to Reagan, I quietly leave.

  I shiver as the cool, fall Wilmington air hits my face as I press the door open and step out into the dark night. It’s quiet outside, with just the faintest sounds of music escaping through the walls. I pull my car keys from the small handbag and hold on to the old metal railing so I don’t fall on these steep stone steps. Heels and a tight, long dress with cobblestone stairs are not a good combination. I almost laugh at myself, wondering what a mess I’d have been if the old Lindsay had sipped a drink or two tonight and tried to navigate these stairs.

  “Let me help you.” There is his voice again, behind me. I pause momentarily before turning around.

  “I’m good. I’ve got this.” I smile in gratitude at him.

  “I know you do, Lindsay. You are the strongest woman I know. You can do anything, without anyone’s help. You’ve proven that time and again, but let me help you.” His voice is full of need—he’s almost begging me to let him help me.

  “Matt, I’m walking down some stairs to my car. I’ll be fine. Go back inside; your date is waiting in there for you.” I turn around and begin taking the steps slowly, my fingers wrapped tightly around the cool metal railing. Now is not the time to fall, I tell myself, I’ve just turned down his offer for help.

  “Melissa’s not my date.” He says it matter-of-factly. “She’s a friend who didn’t have anyone to take her to her boss’ wedding, and I’m a guy who didn’t have a date to my best friend’s wedding, so we came together and that’s where it ends. That’s all it is.”

  I stop, my back still to him. “Matt, it’s okay. You don’t owe me any explanations, and I, of all people, will be the last to judge what you do or who you see.” I turn and look over my shoulder to find he’s closed the distance between us. He’s standing two steps above me.

  “Lindsay, I need to say this and I need you to hear me.” He pauses. I turn around to give him my full attention. My knees shake lightly and I hold on to the railing tighter to steady myself. His jaw works and he shakes one of his hands nervously. His dark brown eyes hone in on mine and never falter. “I love you. I have never stopped loving you. From the first time I spoke to you, to the day you left—my love for you never changed.” I see him swallow and he takes a deep breath, exhaling loudly. “I don’t know what our futures hold, but every time I try to envision mine, you’re a part of it. In my dreams, you’re the one I wake up next to every morning, and go to sleep with every night. You’re the one rocking my babies to sleep, and holding my hand when I’m an old man. It’s always been you. It will always be you.”

  I close my eyes and let the weight of these words sink in. My heart feels as if it might burst, it’s beating so wildly. The tears I’ve been fighting back all night deceive me and fall in streams down my face. My mouth won’t form words, so I stand and just cry. I cry for how sorry I am. I cry for how much I’ve obviously hurt him—and myself. I cry for how much I’ve wanted, no, needed to hear him say this. I cry because this is the future I’ve always envisioned as well—I just never believed I deserved it.

  He takes the last two steps down to meet me and pulls me into his arms. Everything I’ve ever needed is holding on to me and I make a silent promise to myself I’ll never let go of him again.

  “I love you too, Matt.”

  I’m not sure how long we stand holding each other, but I know it is a while. I’ve finally stopped crying, but I don’t want to pull out of his embrace—I’m not ready to let him go yet. When I finally let go, I can see his eyes stained red and his cheeks are wet.

  “Can we start over?” he asks, his lip shaking. I manage a short smile while I wipe his cheeks with the palms of my hand.

  “I’d like that.”

  “Me too.”

  “Your turn,” Matt says as he turns down the volume on the baby monitor that sits on the nightstand and nudges me gently with his elbow. Emmy is chatting away in her crib and making all kinds of noises. With one half-open eye, I glance at the clock on the bedside table and see that it’s three-thirty in the morning.

  Pushing myself out of bed, I pad down the hall quietly to the bedroom where a crib, a changing table, and a rocking chair line the walls of the room. The nightlight plugged into the wall provides just enough light to illuminate the room, not needing to turn on the bright overhead light.

  “Em,” I whisper. “You’re always so chatty and happy, even in the middle of the night.” She smiles at me as I reach into the crib and pull her to me. “You’re going to wake up your sister with all this noise you’re making.” I lay her on the changing table and change her wet diaper, her little legs kicking wildly the entire time. I snap her onesie closed and lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. There is nothing better than a smell of a baby.

  “Hungry?” I ask her. She smiles at me again. I carry her to the kitchen, where I bounce and sway her gently while we wait for her bottle to warm up in the bottle warmer. I pull a burp cloth from the drawer and lay it across her chest and tuck it under her chin before heading back to the rocking chair in the bedroom.

  I prop my feet on the gliding ottoman and position Emmy into the crook of my arm. Her little pink lips wrap around the nipple on the bottle and she immediately begins suckling. Her blue eyes focus on my face and she intently watches me as she inhales her bottle in a matter of minutes.

  “I can’t believe how fast you ate that.” I giggle quietly, pressing another kiss to her cheek. I cannot get enough of this baby girl. Propping her on my chest, I burp her gently, alternating between rubbing circles and gentle taps on her back.

  “I like the way a baby looks on you,” he says, his voice groggy. Matt stands in nothing but a pair of pajama pants, his shoulder pressed against the door jamb.

  “Why are you up? This was my feeding.”

&nb
sp; “I could hear you talking to Emmy through the monitor and I like watching you with her.” He walks across the carpeted floor and leans down, pressing a kiss to my lips. Emmy lets out a giant burp and Matt scrunches his nose in disgust.

  “God, for how cute babies are, they sure do smell.” I can’t help but let out a laugh. He kisses me again quickly before whispering in my ear, “Get her back to sleep so we can practice making a baby.” He wags his eyebrows at me.

  “I love practicing with you,” I say with a smile, still rocking Emmy.

  “We’ve been practicing for a long time,” he says with a noticeable sigh. Matt and I decided to start trying to get pregnant a couple of months ago. We’ve only been married for six months, but I knew it might take some time, as my body is still adjusting and settling into itself after years of abuse, and there is always a lingering fear for me that maybe a baby isn’t in the cards for us. I pray every night that the things I did to my body won’t compromise or affect Matt and his dreams.

  “Go back to bed. I’ll be there in a minute,” I whisper as I look at Emmy, whose eyes are getting heavy.

  Matt and I are babysitting Emmy and her two-year-old sister, Abigail, or better known as Abby, for the weekend. This is Landon and Reagan’s first overnight trip away since Emmy was born—and I love every second of it. Both little girls are stunning with dark hair, blue eyes, and olive skin; a perfect combination of both Landon and Reagan. Abby is the light of her Uncle Matt’s eye and she rarely leaves his side. I love watching Matt interact with the girls and my heart thrums with excitement as I think about starting a family with him.

  Swaddling Emmy in her blanket, I lay her back in the crib. Her little eyelids almost immediately close. I lean over the railing and watch her little chest rise and fall through the blanket. Closing the bedroom door behind me, I pop my head into the other room, where Abby snuggles a bumblebee pillow pet to her chest and her long, dark hair splays on the pillow. I am the luckiest aunt in the world. Landon and Reagan are blessed with the most beautiful little girls I’ve ever laid eyes on. Landon loves all of his girls more than anything, and even though his hands are full with the little girls, he insists on trying one more time for a boy. Reagan is hearing nothing of the matter, and I laugh every time I see him with his arms full of little girls dressed in pink and their toys. He always thought he’d have a house full of boys.

  I crawl back into bed, pulling up the sheets. Matt instantly rolls over and wraps his arm around me, pulling me into him. He nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck, loudly inhaling the scent of my hair. His hand snakes under the hem of my short nightgown and his fingers trail small circles against my stomach.

  “Mrs. Kennedy, do you realize we’ve been married for one hundred and eighty-three days and almost nine and a half hours.”

  “I love when you call me Mrs. Kennedy.” I press a light kiss to his chest. “And how do you know how many days we’ve been married?” I wiggle in his arms and manage to turn toward him.

  “Because I will never forget one minute that you’re mine.”

  “I’ve always been yours,” I say softly. “Always.”

  “I know, but every day that I wake up and have you next to me is the best day of my life.”

  “That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” I push myself up and swing my leg over his waist, straddling him. He pushes my nightgown up and positions my hips directly over him.

  “Let’s practice,” he says with a devious smile pulling me onto him. I’ve known Matt’s been anxious to start a family, but I wanted to settle into married life before jumping into parenthood, and he has been completely understanding and supportive of this. The last year and a half has been a whirlwind for us. The most challenging part for me was getting settled back into my career while finding a delicate balance that supports my priorities of sobriety and putting my family first.

  We spend the next thirty minutes making love. I’ll never get enough of him. I close my eyes as the clock turns to four seventeen in the morning. Just as I doze off, Emmy starts squealing through the baby monitor. I barely remember muttering “your turn” before feeling Matt crawl out of our bed.

  I wake up at six thirty and the bed is empty. The sun is bright, illuminating the room through the skylights. Rubbing my eyes, I push myself up and grab my robe. Walking down the hallway, I can hear the TV on and find Matt sitting on the living room floor with Emmy in her little bouncy chair and Abby sitting between his legs, watching Sophia the First while eating a bowl of dry Cheerios. Matt is wearing only a pair of sweatpants, his chest is bare, showing off his tan, muscular skin. His hair is a mess and his face is lightly stubbled with a three-day growth. I’ve never seen him more handsome than he is right now, surrounded by babies.

  “Morning,” I say, walking across the living room.

  “Princess,” Abby says excitedly and points to the TV.

  “Yes, Princess Sophia,” I tell her and she flashes me a giant, toothy smile. I sit down next to Matt and he leans his head against my shoulder. “You look exhausted.”

  “I haven’t been back to bed,” he says quietly. “Em wouldn’t sleep. Then, just as I got her settled, Abs woke up.” I laugh quietly, wondering if this is what our life could look like.

  “Go rest. I’ll take over. I’ll make some breakfast and wake you up in a few hours.” He shakes his head and lightly pulls on one of Abby’s long, loose curls.

  “We’ll sleep after they leave. Landon already sent a text and said they’d be here about eight. He said Reagan is missing the girls.”

  “That means he’s missing the girls.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

  We sit and watch cartoons with Abby and I change Emmy, getting her dressed in a pink jumper. Matt has a bottle waiting when I bring her back to the living room and he feeds her while I start breakfast. Throwing some bacon in the oven to cook, I make pancakes and cut up fresh fruit to make a giant fruit bowl.

  Landon and Reagan burst through the door around seven forty-five and Landon scoops Abby off the floor and into his arms. Abby squeals as Landon peppers her with kisses all over her face. The guys tend to the girls while Reagan joins me in the kitchen.

  “Could you seriously have married someone any more adorable or sweet?” she says sarcastically. “I mean, my God, my baby looks amazing in that man’s arms.” She laughs.

  “I know,” I sigh, looking at Matt feeding Emmy. “He loves those girls so much,” I admit as I flip another pancake on the griddle.

  “How’s it going? Any luck yet?” She scrunches her nose. Reagan knows I’ve been trying to get pregnant and I’ve voiced my concerns of it not happening as quickly as I’d hoped. She advised that I speak with a specialist in her office if nothing happens in the next couple of months.

  “Nothing yet,” I say quietly.

  “Don’t stress about it,” she says with a sympathetic smile. “It’ll happen when it’s supposed to; it always does.”

  “I know.”

  “I know I told you to wait to see the specialist, but why don’t you come in tomorrow? We’ll just do some basic lab work. Run some blood and urine tests… just to see if there is anything off.” I immediately feel better and smile at her.

  “That sounds like a good idea.” Anything to help ease some of my fears will make me feel better.

  “Good; come early on your way to work. I’ll get you in before we start seeing patients.”

  “Thanks, Reagan.”

  Abby runs into the kitchen, hugging Reagan’s legs. “Mama. Princess,” she says, pointing to the TV again.

  “Uncle Matt let you watch princesses, didn’t he?” She narrows her eyes at Matt. Reagan likes to limit the amount of TV time with Abby, but Uncle Matt won’t hear any of it.

  “If she’s screwed up as a teenager for watching too much Sophia the First, you can blame me,” he jokes with her, pulling a t-shirt over his head before picking Abby back up and putting her on his shoulders.

  Reagan r
olls her eyes and sets the kitchen table. We enjoy a nice breakfast with Landon, Reagan, and the girls before they leave and Matt and I spend the rest of the day in bed, watching movies and “practicing.”

  Reagan shoves me toward the bathroom with a wipe and a small, plastic cup in my hand. “Wipe first, then capture the sample in the collection cup. We’ll do bloods when you’re done.” The bathroom door shuts behind me and I sigh loudly before doing as she told me. I twist the plastic cover back onto the cup, wash my hands, and meet her outside the bathroom.

  “Cup o’ pee?” I say in my best Irish accent. She pulls the collection cup from my hands and gives it to one of her medical assistants.

  “I swear you and Landon are the same person. You both act like fifteen-year-old boys,” she scoffs jokingly. I sit in the chair, resting my left arm on the cushion while the phlebotomist wraps my arm in a giant band and pokes me, filling two vials of blood. One Band-Aid later and a quick hug from Reagan, and I’m out the door, on my way to work.

  Getting settled at my desk, I begin my morning routine of checking voice messages, answering emails, and preparing for our morning production meeting. Elaine has been assigning me a lot of feature stories and I’ve even gotten some anchor time for the noon newscast. My cell phone rings on the desk next to me and I see Reagan’s name flash across the screen. I’ve got ten minutes until the production meeting, so I hit ignore and finish answering the email I’ve been working on. My desk phone rings and I notice Reagan’s number on the caller ID.

  “Lindsay Kennedy,” I answer, just in case I’m mistaken and it’s not Reagan.

  “Tell me you’re sitting down.”

  “Uh, yeah, but I’m…”

  “Stay sitting.”

  “Why do you sound out of breath? What’s wrong?”

  “Lindsay…”

  “Yeah…”

  “You’re pregnant.” And that’s where my heart stops beating.

  “What?” I barely make out in a whisper

  “You heard me. Your urine test was positive. You’re pregnant. We’re waiting on the blood work to come back tomorrow to confirm, but you’re pregnant. When was your last period?”