Below Unforgiven

by Stedronsky, Kimberly

  I made love to him. Another man, not Matthew.

  Against the bars of a jail cell.

  Yes, it was a park exhibit, but still. Without a condom. Yes, I was on birth control, but what if it didn’t work?

  It has to work, there’s no reason it wouldn’t.

  I’m not due for the shot again until the end of July.

  Or… was it June?

  My armpits broke into an immediate sweat. Fucking J months!

  What if it didn’t work? Or what if he had some gross disease from his Hollywood wife?

  Oh, my god, I have herpes.

  No you don’t!

  Yes I do. And gonorrhea.

  No, no. He’s clean. He smells so clean and good…

  You can’t smell an STD you fucking moron!

  And then, I’d ordered him to tell me that he loved me. And then I said that I loved him.

  Because I believed that I truly did love him.

  And then I agreed to… marry him. I think?

  I was an idiot.

  He held my hand as we walked through the amusement park, and I could only stare straight ahead as everything began to sink in.

  What am I doing… what AM I DOING? What in the hell am I doing?

  Sex with Keaton had been everything that I imagined it would be, and then something happened.

  My body felt like it had exploded and come together at the same time, igniting a fire that had been waiting, fueled and stoked and teased and impatient for years. I was right; it was feral, wild, and feeling him coming inside of me was better than anything I’d ever experienced.

  Better than Matthew.

  The admission sent instant nausea to my stomach. Now I started doubting what was happening, what I’d agreed to, where I was going…

  And what I was about to do to Matthew.

  Did I want to move on? Did I really want to say good-bye to Matthew forever? I thought that was what I wanted until I was standing directly in front of the Rollo-Coaster and focused on a man with Matthew’s height and build. He grinned down at a petite redhead, and his black framed glasses reflected off the Bumper Cars.

  The psycho theme ripped through my head, and I felt like Sharon Stone was stabbing me repeatedly in the heart with an ice pick.

  Matthew kissing another woman.

  Holding another woman.

  Sleeping with another woman.

  No…

  How had that not occurred to me in all of these months? How could I be so selfish? How could I think that he would just be waiting for me, brooding and celibate while I figured my shit out?

  “You look like you’re going to puke. Need to sit down?”

  I lifted my eyes to Keaton’s, wavering on my feet. “Yeah. I-oh, no! The book! I needed to have those edits finished today-she has to send copies to a bunch of blogs by Friday-…,”

  “Hey,” he caught my hand, leading me toward the giant, grassy hill in front of the stage. “Listen. We have a few hours until close, so why don’t I go grab a blanket out of the car, spread it out on the hill, and you can edit and I can stare at your legs. Okay?”

  I gave him a shaky smile, admitting that I loved the way he took charge of every situation. “Through my jeans?”

  “Jeans or no jeans, you’ve got the hottest legs I’ve ever seen.”

  She blushed beautifully. “Thank you.”

  He grinned mischievously, gesturing to the grass. “Wait here, kiddo. I’ll be right back.”

  I returned his grin as I watched him jog up the hill, settling onto the cool grass.

  Keaton was right. I owed Matthew at least a conversation, and I needed to make a choice. Either I could commit to all of the insane promises that Keaton and I had been exchanging over the past few hours, or I could go home with Matthew and try to work through everything that I’d been running from for the past year.

  Or, I could just go back to Gram’s, and wait.

  I called Robin. She answered on the first ring.

  “Heyyy, sister. I can call you that, right? Mrs. Keaton Thane?”

  “Hey, Robin.”

  She chuckled, her sarcastic-raspy voice forcing a grin from me. “So, you’re at the park?”

  “Yes.”

  “Having fun?”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I whispered, cupping my hand over my ear to attempt to block out the carousel music. “I’m falling in love with Keaton. You were right.”

  “I always am.”

  “But I never fell… out of love… with Matthew.”

  “I know that, too.”

  “Keaton is asking me to go to California with him, and to-to marry him, I think! And… and this is all seriously crazy. Part of me wants to go with him. On one hand, I really just want to move on from Matthew… and on the other-…,”

  “On the other, you’ve got shit. What’s that saying? Wish in one hand, shit in the other. See which one gets filled faster.”

  “No, I know that it just sounds like a bunch of wishes-…,”

  “Vivian, he’s a twenty-six-year-old man acting like a fucking teenager. Promising you the world when all he really has to offer is fiction. Hollywood. A bunch of scheming lies and liars. I’m sure the sex is new, and good, and that’s all I’m going to say about it ‘cause he’s my brother, but Vivian. Viv-i-an. Listen to yourself. You love Matthew. I know it, you know it, and Keaton fucking knows it, and that’s why he’s trying to put you in his motherfucking Ferrari and whisk you away to fairy tale land! He’s competitive, he’ll always be that way, and sometimes the only thing that motivates him is winning.”

  “I don’t want to hurt Matthew, and I don’t want to hurt Keaton!”

  “Hurt Keaton?” She laughed-no, she straight-up guffawed- and I narrowed my eyes. “He won’t remember you by Friday! I hate to break this to you, but you need to jump over to your apps and Google your fiancé. He’s an alcoholic asshole, Viv, and I’m saying that word in the worst way possible.”

  “That’s not true,” I defended him, remembering Keaton’s words in the car at the rest stop. Give this a chance.

  Run to me.

  “Matthew loves you. And I’m only telling you this because you’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life. And I have a confession to make.” She took a deep breath. “Matthew got my number-thanks to your Gram-and called me when you first started working at the store in June. He told me that he was saving every cent you send him, and made me promise to call him if you were depressed, or hurt, or working too hard. Or sick. Or just sad. Vivian, that man loves you. Real love. He’s put his entire life on hold for you. And then my fucking brother just waltzes in there, screwing everything up, confusing you, and now… you know what? I’ll stop. This is your fucking life, not mine. You know what I think.”

  I listened to her rant with my mouth hanging open. The diamond ring on my finger caught the single tear that slipped down my cheek.

  “He told you? Matthew told you he was saving it?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s coming to Gram’s tonight.”

  “I know that too.”

  “Robin,” I was crying hard now, and I could only imagine what Keaton would think when he returned with the blanket and my book. “I really do think that I love them both.”

  “Well, then, congratulations, Vivian Hale. You wanted drama. Here’s your chance to be the actress you’ve been dying to be. Go home to Matthew, and tell Keaton that you don’t love him. Trust me, it’s for the best.”

  I clenched my fist, watching as Keaton crested the top of the hill.

  “You’re so mean,” I managed between tearful breaths.

  “I’m honest. I’m sorry if that’s mean. Bye, Viv.”

  She disconnected so that I didn’t have to.

  “Hey,” Keaton dropped to his knees next to me, brushing his thumb over my cheek. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I sniffed, forcing a smile. “Nothing, just thinking about everything.”

  “Everything, huh?” He turned t
o spread the blanket over the grass, and I noticed that several other families were already staking their claim to their own pieces of the hill. It was tradition to sit on the hill and watch the fireworks every Fourth of July weekend at Idlewild, and we were there early enough to snag a prime spot. “Who were you talking to?”

  “Robin.”

  “Ah. My biggest fan.” He handed me my book, digging into the pockets of his jeans. “Highlighters,” he announced, and I smiled gratefully.

  “Thank you. I have a lot of books on my Kindle app, if you want to read anything,” I offered. “Unless the text is too small for your old eyes.”

  He froze, and I grinned, still wiping at my tears. He tackled me before I could brace myself, landing over me on the blanket and diving for my neck.

  “Old, huh?”

  “Keaton!” I squealed, pushing at his shoulder. “Come on, there are children everywhere.”

  “Tell them to cover their eyes.”

  “Stop,” I laughed as he rolled off of me to his back.

  “Okay, hand it over.”

  I held up my phone, and he squinted through his sunglasses, scrolling through my library with his index finger. “These are all romance.”

  “No, that’s not true. There are some thrillers, just keep looking.”

  “What am I looking for? Every single cover is the same… two people almost kissing. Oh this time they’re a little closer, I think their lips are touching-oh, nope, almost kissing again. Almost kissing against a wall. Almost kissing against a tree.”

  My shoulders shook with laughter, and I pushed him. “Stop it.”

  “Almost kissing in a lake. Almost kissing in a car.”

  “You sound like Dr. Seuss.”

  “I’m feeling paranoid. Are there photographers out there just randomly stalking couples, waiting for them to almost-kiss everywhere?”

  “The almost-kiss is romantic. They’re falling in love. Very popular,” I argued, opening Doubting Damon and uncapping a highlighter. “Stop making fun of my library.”

  “I’m only playing, V.” He returned my phone, crossing his arms behind his neck and stretching out on the blanket next to me. The cool air was so unusual for July, and I shivered a little as a breeze moved through. “I prefer to stare at your legs, anyway.”

  “What, these?” I rolled my hips toward him, and he groaned, tucking me against his stomach.

  “I can’t wait until we have this park to ourselves.”

  “And what are you planning to do with me, Mr. Thane?”

  “Well, first, I’m going to shut this shitty pop music down and pump Pearl Jam over every speaker. That’s been a dream of mine since I was a kid.”

  “Really?” I smirked, and he nodded.

  “Oh yeah. And then I’m going to take you up on that stage and dance with you.”

  “To Pearl Jam?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Interesting.”

  “You’ll see.”

  I blocked his face with the open paperback. “Now shush, goddamnit. I need to concentrate.”

  He grinned at my Clint impression, nodding as I focused on the last twenty pages.

  My mind wandered as I read each word, and I didn’t comprehend a single sentence.

  I finished in under an hour, and then shared a funnel cake with Keaton. One by one, the lights on all the rides came on and illuminated the evening, and I giggled as he licked the powered sugar off my lips.

  And yes, I was fully aware that I teetered between ignorant bliss and stomach-ulcer worthy anxiety.

  We walked along the midway, hand in hand. I watched his heroic attempts to win me an overstuffed prize, laughing with him every time he lost. “All these games are rigged,” I assured him, and he cringed, smirking my way.

  “You’re such a good little actress,” he teased, stealing a kiss before turning back to the game attendant. “Is there somewhere that I can just buy her something?” He asked, and the girl running the balloon dart game pointed toward the gift shop.

  “There are arts and crafts vendors over there, too,” she assured him, batting her eyelashes as prettily as possible. He winked at her, gripping my hand and leading me toward the craft area.

  “You are a complete flirt, you know that, right?”

  He chuckled, stopping along a booth that displayed a variety of pewter charms. “Flirtation is just direction in disguise,” he whispered against my ear, drawing his fingers over the jewelry.

  A little girl, no more than five or six years old, popped her head up from behind the table. I watched the woman next to her choose a colorful piece of thread for another customer.

  I guessed that the woman was her mother, based on their matching blonde curls. The little girl arched one eyebrow, watching us carefully. “Hi. Do you want to buy some charms?”

  I grinned, and Keaton dropped down to her level from across the table. “Well, hi there. These are all so beautiful.”

  “Mommy made them.” The girl’s big, blue eyes peered at him. “Which one do you want?”

  He looked down at the display, pretending to be deep in thought. Entertained, I stepped back and watched him point to a group of miniature tiaras. “A crown? For my princess?” He gestured to me, and the little girl shook her head, her curls bobbing on her shoulders.

  “Those are tiaras,” she corrected, every “s” in her sentence punctuated by an adorable lisp. “Every boyfriend buys those.”

  Keaton’s wide smile flashed up at me, and I grinned at their exchange.

  “Well, then, I need to do better than that,” he admitted. “Maybe you can help me. I’m Keaton, and this is Vivian.”

  She held her little hand out, and I noticed that each wrist was covered in a variety of colorful thread attached to multiple charms. “My name’s Charlie. What’s your job?” She asked, and the woman next to us finally turned her attention our way.

  Keaton smiled. “Nice to meet you, Charlie. I’m a movie director, and Vivian is an actress.”

  “Charlie, let them decide,” the woman chastised softly, but Keaton shook his head.

  “No, no, she’s doing a great job. She’s got me thinking. What’s under that box?” He pointed to the corner of the table, and the mother moved the collection of miniature microphones out of the way.

  Keaton reached for a charm, turning to me with a broad smile.

  “Movie cameras,” Charlie announced. “Those are good ‘cause you correct movies. What color for the bracelet?”

  Curling my lips inward, I tried not to giggle at her confusion between “correct” and “direct.”

  I could tell that Keaton was enchanted. “Blue,” he murmured as he stood, his eyes never leaving mine. I watched his golden-hazel gaze blend with the sunlight, so charmed by his conversation with the little girl. “Just like your eyes,” he added, turning to grin down at Charlie.

  “And her eyes too,” Charlie added, smiling at me with a toothless grin.

  Keaton bought the bracelet for me, and after we made our way back to our spot on the grass, he tied the little charm around my wrist.

  I thanked him with a long, slow kiss, lying back on the blanket with him.

  “Can I tell you something… that I’d never tell anyone? That I kind of don’t want to even admit to myself?” He asked as I rested my cheek in the crook of his shoulder.

  We both lay on our backs, and his fingertip drew up and down my arm as I nodded. “Of course you can, Keaton.”

  He took the deepest breath ever, and for a moment I thought he’d say never mind. Finally, he forced his words out in one breath.

  “I almost hoped my dad would be there. That he’d show up at Luke’s wedding.”

  Hearing his heartfelt admission rumble through his chest, I winced, wrapping my arm around his waist.

  “I understand.”

  “I knew you would.”

  Our silence was intimate. The fact that he trusted me enough to share his emotions with me poked at my conscience.

  “What wou
ld you have said to him if he had shown up?”

  He picked at a blade of grass next to us, shifting his legs. “I’d have asked him why the hell he even bothered.”

  “Do you still love him?”

  He listened to my soft words, wrapping a strand of my hair around his finger. “I love the good memories. As few as there were.”

  Nodding, I snuggled closer to him. “Do you think that you… still love… Kelsey?”

  I forced her name between us.

  His arms became rigid. “She lied to me. You know how I feel about liars.”

  “And she hurt you,” I added softly.

  “Yes, she did. A lot. No matter what you read about me in the press, Vivian, I never cheated on my wife. Never. I gave her everything. All of me. I adored her. Past tense,” he added. “I feel nothing for her now.”

  I kissed him then, a silent thanks for his honesty, and he wound his fingers through my hair.

  “Can I tell you something, too?” I asked, against his lips.

  “Um… no.”

  I lifted my face, and his broad grin forced a defeated laugh from me. “Keaton!”

  “V,” he replied, laughing, pulling me back down to his chest. “Of course you can. Tell me.”

  “It’s about Matthew, though.”

  He was still for a moment, and then he relaxed. “Oh, him. I almost didn’t know who you were talking about. Sorry, I don’t call him that in my head.”

  “You don’t? What do you call him?”

  “Numero Uno Douchebag.”

  “Why?” I cried, shaking my head. “That’s really not true. He’s not a douchebag.”

  “Vivan, he’s taking your money-well, I won’t get into it. He shouldn’t be taking your money.”

  “He’s not,” I defended. “I just found out that he’s not. He never was. He’s been saving every penny I send him for… for a house. For us. Together.”

  He froze. “You just found out? Is that who you were really talking to when I got back from the car?”

  “No, it was Robin. But Matthew contacted Robin and told her what he was doing with my money in the beginning of the summer. Robin never told me until now.”

  “God, she really is cheering for this guy,” he snapped, turning to face the sky. “Okay, so he’s not taking your money. But he let you run. Any decent guy would have seen that you were hurting, and that he needed to come after you, not let you move two hundred miles away with a broken heart. He needed to be there with you, grieving with you. Helping you deal with everything then, not letting it burn for as long as it has.”