Unforgivable

by Megan Hart

  He liked to think he’d grown up at least a little bit since then. At least that was what he told himself was the reason he waited two weeks after Bernie’s party to finally call her number . . . that he was giving her time to work through her initial fury with him. Not that that he was terrified of actually having to talk to her.

  “I was scared to call you before now,” were the first words out of his mouth, and they were the truth. “I thought you’d curse me out, or maybe hang up on me.”

  “I still might.” Alice’s voice was chilly and distant.

  He had no trouble imagining her expression.

  “Alice, look. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

  Icicles clung to every up-and-down dip in the beat of her laughter. “For what?”

  “For not . . . saying what I should’ve said to you.” Shit. The words still clogged his throat.

  Alice said nothing. The soft huff of her breathing tickled his eardrum through the distance. He waited, giving her time. To cut him with her words, if she was going to. Or to say she forgave him. He waited for a very long minute, counting off the seconds of silence before finally giving in.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

  She hadn’t hung up him. That was something. Alice sighed. “It’s not ‘sorry’ that I want to hear from you, Mick. Fuck’s sake, I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to say you missed me, too.”

  “I did. I have. Shit, Alice, so much, you can’t even believe it.” He’d been sitting in his recliner, but got up now to pace.

  “I have missed you every day. Some more than others. But every fucking day.” Her breath hitched. There was a beat or two of silence in which he imagined her getting herself under control. “And all I wanted was for you to say it. And you didn’t. You couldn’t.”

  “No. I guess I couldn’t.”

  “Why, Mick?” In the past she’d have already been calling him names, raising her voice, slinging barbs. If he were lucky, that was, and she hadn’t disconnected and then refused to answer his call again. “Why couldn’t you just tell me? Why is it so hard?”

  “I don’t know.” He could peel away the layers of his existence to figure out the reasons, he supposed, and would still probably never know why. “It’s a guy thing. It’s hard for guys to talk about their feelings.”

  “That’s no answer,” Alice said harshly. “Not after all this time. And it’s bullshit, because I’ve had lots of guys who didn’t have a hard time telling me how they feel. There were times when you didn’t, either. So fuck your excuse. And seeing you again . . . I just . . . how could you kiss me that way?”

  Mick laughed, low and sad. “How could I not kiss you that way?”

  “You could have not kissed me at all. You could’ve stayed on your own side of the table. You didn’t have to kiss me. Or touch me.”

  Mick cringed at the sound of tears in her voice. “I did have to. There was no way I could’ve looked at you and stayed on my own side of the table, Alice.”

  If that didn’t tell her how he felt, she wasn’t listening very well.

  “I’m sorry,” Mick added.

  “Don’t be sorry!” she cried. “God dammit, Mick, don’t you fucking dare tell me you’re sorry for kissing me!”

  He didn’t answer right away. The silence spun out between them again. This would’ve been easier and harder in person, where he’d have been able to touch her the way she said he shouldn’t want to.

  “Look . . . I want to see you,” he said. “Will you meet me?”

  “For what? We already fucked around. You didn’t get your fill?”

  That stung. She could complain about him not being able to share his feelings, but she was totally missing what he was actually saying. “That’s not why I want to see you, Alice.”

  “Great,” she said sourly. “So you don’t miss me and you don’t want to fuck me, either. Thanks.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it, so stop it.”

  Alice paused, then said, “I’m sorry.”

  “That might be the first time I ever heard you say that to me.” Mick grinned.

  Alice snorted softly. “Well . . . you might be right. In which case, I’m sorry again.”

  “I want to see you, Alice.”

  Again, she didn’t answer him, but this time the silence felt filled with anticipation, not anxiety. She sighed. He imagined her rubbing the spot between her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and ring fingers in that way she had when she was thinking hard about something.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she said at last. “Why should I see you?”

  “Because I miss you.” There. He’d said it, right out loud. How could she complain about that?

  She laughed a little more warmly this time. “That’s why you should see me, not the other way around.”

  “Because you miss me,” Mick told her. “And you want to see me again.”

  Alice muttered something, a curse word, he was sure of it. She’d spoken so low he couldn’t be sure exactly which of her favorite profanities she’d uttered. It sounded something like “bruised whores,” which made him laugh uncertainly and ask her to repeat it.

  “I said closed doors,” Alice told him. “As in, doors that should be closed. As in us, this. All of this. Everything about it. Closed. Door.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I appreciate you calling me.”

  Shit, she was back to sounding chilly again. Distant. “Alice—”

  “But I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to see each other. Thank you for apologizing. It wasn’t necessary.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  She hesitated, and for a second, he had hope she’d change her mind. “Well. Thank you for it, then. And for telling me that you missed me.”

  “I do miss you.” Easier this time. Like pressing ice to a bruise, eventually it numbed.

  She cleared her throat. “Thanks. I appreciate that. A lot.”

  No, no, no. This was all going wrong. He’d just been about to get her to agree to see him in person, so he could make sure she understood what he was trying to say.

  “Alice, please—”

  “Good-bye, Mick.”

  “Alice!”

  But it was too late. She’d disconnected. He’d lost her all over again.

  Alice to Mick

  How many times do I let you break me, before I decide I’ve had enough? We spin and spin so much we’ve created our own gravity. Like no matter how hard we try, neither of us can break away. We are in orbit. Caught. How many times do I let you break me?

  I guess the only answer is, every time.

  —Alice to Mick

  Chapter 13

  Dayna’s call hadn’t taken Alice by surprise, not after their conversation at Bernie and Cookie’s. They’d agreed to meet for happy hour drinks at some place Alice wouldn’t have normally gone to, but that Dayna had raved about. It had a tropical decor and fancy drinks that came in specialty glasses, which was about all it had to recommend it as far as Alice was concerned, but Dayna looked so happy to see her that it didn’t matter about the creepy platoon of business guys ogling her as soon as she walked in.

  “Hey. Good to see you.” Dayna hugged her. “I got us a table over here.”

  Alice followed, careful not to make eye contact with any of the men circling the free buffet. “How’s the food here?”

  “Order from the menu, not that cesspool,” Dayna advised. “The chicken fingers are all right, but not worth having to deal with the bad pickup lines.”

  Alice laughed as she took a seat at the highboy table. “Good to know. Thanks.”

  They ordered drinks and a platter of appetizers. They chitchatted for a few minutes, until Dayna finally took a long, deep breath. Alice waited, but Dayna didn’t say anything.

  “Paul,” Alice said.

  Dayna nodded.

  “We might need more than one drink.”

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nbsp; Dayna laughed, which was better than crying. “He said he can’t give me what I want. That he can’t go all in, whatever the hell that means.”

  The drinks came, along with the food, and Alice waited to answer until the server left. Then she lifted her glass. Clinked it to Dayna’s.

  “It just means he doesn’t have any idea what else to say that won’t make him sound like a giant douche bag.” Alice sipped cold liquor and picked up a tortilla chip laden with refried beans and salsa. “I mean, did you tell him what it is, exactly, that you want?”

  “I said I wanted him.”

  “And he can’t give you him?”

  “He can give me his dick,” Dayna said sourly. “That, he seems able to manage.”

  Alice laughed, not meaning to make light of what was Dayna’s obvious distress. But there was nothing but laughter to be had in a situation like this, because how else do you react to the absurdity of love? After a second or so, Dayna laughed, too.

  “I told him I didn’t need a marriage proposal. Just that if he was going to come over and fuck me on occasion that he should answer my texts once in a while, too. I didn’t even say we had to be exclusive.” Dayna paused to drink, looking thoughtful. “I mean, it wasn’t so long ago that even the thought of someone else touching me was enough to make me want to puke, but funny how it happens that when someone keeps hurting you in the same way how easy letting go starts to get.”

  “No kidding. Mick called me.” Alice dug into more food.

  Dayna shook her head. “And?”

  “And, nothing. He wanted to see me. I said no.”

  Dayna’s jaw dropped. “You didn’t!”

  “I did.” A strange sense of pride stung her for a second as Alice lifted her chin and shrugged. “There was just no good to come from that. Sure, we’d fuck around, I’d get off, he’d get off, but we’d be back to the same old shit as the first time around. Doors should close, remember?”

  “Maybe, but . . . how did you manage to do it?” Dayna drained her glass as the server reappeared. “Two more, please.”

  Alice shrugged again. “I don’t know, really. Just that seeing him that weekend was better and worse in a lot of ways than I’d expected, but . . . there is no more me and Mick. That’s the thing. It ended for a good reason. I mean, what ended it was bad, but it was a good reason to end it.”

  The booze had started tickling her already. Words tangling on her tongue. Memories flooding in. All the feels, filling her up.

  “Why did it end?”

  Alice sat back. “You don’t know?”

  “Nope.” Dayna shook her head and dug into the mozzarella sticks.

  “There were lots of reasons, aren’t there always more than one? But let’s just say that when I needed him, he wasn’t there.” Alice paused. “Nobody talked about it?”

  Dayna grinned. “What, you think we all gossiped about you?”

  “Maybe.” Alice thought about it. “Jay knows. I figured he’d have told Paul.”

  “Jay’s your best friend, he doesn’t talk out of school about you. And Paul and I didn’t exactly have what you’d call a relationship based on sharing and communication,” Dayna said.

  This set them both off into more peals of laughter. More drinks appeared, perfect timing. Also a pair of business guys dressed in identical khakis and polo shirts, even their smiles matching. And somehow, though Alice would’ve said the very last thing on her agenda tonight was going to be getting picked up by a slick-talking salesman in town for a tech convention, she found herself doing just that.

  His name was Bill. His friend, so clearly taken with Dayna that he could barely look away from her face, was Gary. The two of them were staying at the hotel attached to this bar, a fact they’d stated right up front, which made Alice laugh.

  “I’m not going to your hotel,” she told Bill. “You can buy me a drink, but that’s it.”

  Bill grinned. Gary had lured Dayna away to the next table so Bill could take her seat. Whatever he was saying to her was making her laugh. Good for her. Alice lifted her brow at Bill.

  “I’m serious.”

  “I know you are. I could tell that about you right away. Serious.” Bill tipped his beer bottle at her and put on a solemn face. “Serious Alice.”

  Alice gave in to a laugh, but shook her head. She made a show of looking around the bar, then back at him. “There’s a bar full of young, single women. You pick the one who’s not interested in hooking up. I have to question your judgment.”

  “I might have poor judgment,” Bill said, “but I have very, very good taste.”

  He got bonus points for being charming, she thought. Dayna seemed to be having a good time with Gary, the two of them leaning close. And Bill was a good-looking guy. Smart and funny, straightforward about what he was going for but, despite that, not actually too pushy. Another time, not so long ago, she would have given him her number. As it was, with the party at Bernie’s still too painfully fresh, Alice couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for the thought of hooking up. Or dating.

  Because let’s face it, Bill was no Mick. Nobody was Mick. Nobody ever would be. But hadn’t she decided just a few nights ago that she was done with Mick McManus and his hold over her? Great sex aside, all the feels aside, no matter how sweet the berries tasted, if you knew they were poison, you left those bitches on the bush.

  Which is why when Bill asked her if she wanted to dance, Alice put down her drink and took his hand.

  Mick to Alice

  These are the flowers I cut for you before you told me that pink roses were a waste of a flower. I put them in a vase anyway, because I cut them and what the heck do you do with flowers once they’ve been cut? You put them in a vase with water on the kitchen counter and hope your girlfriend doesn’t sneeze herself into apoplexy over them before you can get her out of the house and take her to her favorite restaurant for a big steak dinner.

  I’m sorry, baby, that I didn’t know you hated pink roses.

  Let me make it up to you.

  —Mick to Alice

  Chapter 14

  “She likes big romantic gestures,” Jay said. “You know. Say Anything type stuff. You’re gonna have to be John Cusack holding up the boom box outside her window. And really, man, it sounds like you need to grovel a little bit. Maybe a lot.”

  Mick took a long draw on the beer Jay had handed him. The other man had been rightfully reluctant to let Mick come over, so Mick had already done some groveling. Jay was one of Alice’s best and longest friends, though. If anyone knew how best to get her to listen to him, it would be Jay.

  “I’ll beg, if I have to.”

  Jay laughed. “Don’t beg. She’d hate that.”

  “You sure?” Mick leaned against the granite counter in Jay’s kitchen. The dude had some kind of kitchen, man. Mick looked around, thinking of his own place. He didn’t even have matching glassware. “I thought women liked it when a man begged.”

  “Groveling is one thing, but not begging. Have some dignity.” Jay rolled his eyes.

  “I already apologized to her.”

  Jay cracked open a tub of dip and put it out on the table, along with some chips. At Mick’s look, he shrugged. “I have someone coming over later. But you can have some, too.”

  “Oh, shit. Didn’t mean to—”

  “Relax. I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for Alice. Because that girl is crazy about you, no clue why, and she has been for a decade.” Jay gave Mick a look. “The question is, are you going to fuck it all up again?”

  “Not on purpose.” Mick turned the bottle around in his hands.

  “Well, thank God for that.” Jay snorted and shook his head. “Look, man. I don’t have anything against you.”

  “Other than I broke Alice’s heart,” Mick said.

  Jay grinned. “Yeah. That. She’s my girl.”

  “No,” Mick said quietly. “She’s my girl.”

  “If you hurt her again,” Jay told him, “I will fuck you up. You got it?�
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  “Got it.” Mick put the empty bottle in the sink and straightened. “I don’t want to hurt her. Trust me. I’ve never met another woman like her. Beg, grovel, whatever I have to do to get her to give me another chance, I’ll do it.”

  “Tell her that.” Jay set out a small stack of fancy paper plates with matching napkins and gave Mick a glance over his shoulder. “Tell her you still love her. That you never stopped.”

  Mick winced.

  Jay frowned. “Dude. C’mon.”

  “Dude,” Mick mimicked. “You know how it is.”

  “How what is? Being crazy about someone you can’t let go of? Yeah. I know.”

  That wasn’t what he’d meant. “No. I mean about feelings and stuff. It’s hard to say that stuff.”

  “Is it?” Jay narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

  “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

  Jay stood and gave Mick a pitying look. “At least you told her the truth, then, right? You afraid of getting your wittle feelings hurt?”

  “Who isn’t?”

  “You know the definition of bravery isn’t being unafraid. It’s being afraid and doing whatever that thing is that terrifies you anyway.”

  “You know the definition of crazy, right? Doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results,” Mick countered.

  Jay nodded, not smiling. “Fair enough. I guess the question is, man, is you brave? Or is you crazy?”

  “Both,” Mick said. “I guess I’m hoping to be both.”

  “You’d better hurry, then,” Jay said. “She told me last week she met some new guy, and she’s going out to dinner with him tonight.”

  Alice to Mick

  There is nothing crueler than the person who doesn’t want you enough to keep you, but who doesn’t love you enough to let you go.

  —Alice to Mick

  Chapter 15