Unforgivable

by Megan Hart

  Alice laughed, so it didn’t seem like there could’ve been an emergency. “No, I’m actually in bed, believe it or not. That’s what happens when you get old, I guess. Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, too, because Mom asked me about it. For the kids, right? Yeah. Yep. No, that’s okay, I told her that one was fine. Yes. One block to the beach. Yeah, it’ll be fun! Okay, talk to you later.”

  She disconnected and put her phone back on the nightstand, then snuggled back next to him with a yawn. She kissed his shoulder. He pressed his lips to her still-damp hair.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. My mom was sending my sister links for this house they’re renting for the beach, and she wanted to make sure I was cool with sharing a bathroom with the kids. Usually Mom and Dad rent the same house, but this year we decided to get a little closer to the ocean. I guess she hadn’t really paid attention a few months ago about the bathroom situation when they rented it. But it’s no problem for me.” Alice yawned again.

  Mick shifted to relieve some of the pressure on his arm. “You’re going to the beach?”

  “Yeah, they get a place down in Rehoboth Beach every year over the Fourth.” She sounded sleepy, but Mick was suddenly wide awake.

  “The Fourth? Of July?”

  Alice chuckled softly. “Um, yeah.”

  “As in, next week?”

  She paused before answering, her tone cautious. “Yes.”

  “Well . . . shit, Alice.” Mick sat up.

  Alice sat, too. “What?”

  “I thought you were going to go to Bernie and Cookie’s house. I mean, we’re all going. Jay’s not going, I guess, because of Paul, but . . .”

  “Yeah, I know.” She didn’t reach to turn the light on, and in the shadows all he could see were curves and silhouettes. “I told Bernie months ago I’d be going to my parents’ for the Fourth. I’ve been going there with my family for the past five years.”

  Shit. Dammit. Mick turned on the lamp on his side of the bed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I guess it didn’t occur to me. It’s my family thing. I planned it long before you and I . . .” She hesitated. “Look, you’ve known for weeks, at least a month, about this Fourth of July thing. I know you have, because I got the invitation, too. You didn’t say a word about it. If you had, I’d have told you that I already had plans, but you didn’t say anything. I figured maybe you had plans, too.”

  “I did. Plans with you.”

  “Then maybe,” Alice said icily, “you should have told me about them instead of assuming I could read your mind.”

  All his euphoria faded. “When were you going to tell me about this thing with your family?”

  “I don’t know, Mick. When were you going to ask me about going to Bernie’s?” Alice said. Just that. Nothing else, though clearly by the way her mouth thinned, she had other words that wanted to come out.

  Mick frowned. “I didn’t know I had to ask. You never said anything about it.”

  She was pissed off. He knew it by the way she turned on her side, facing away from him, even though it wasn’t her normal side of the bed. By the way she punched her pillow and shifted away when he dared to come an inch closer.

  He hated it when she stewed.

  He clicked off the light. On his back, he made sure not to touch her. He listened for the sound of her breathing to slow, meaning she’d fallen asleep, but all he heard was the soft huff of her breath, in and out. Ragged.

  Alice sat up. Mick tensed. Bring it, he thought. Come on, then.

  “Things really haven’t changed. Have they?”

  Mick sat, but didn’t turn on the light. Somehow this seemed like a conversation better held in darkness. He wished he could get up and find his briefs, but something told him it was wiser to stay put.

  “Of course they’ve changed, Alice.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Not really. You still want to slide through this thing like it’s some kind of game. What, do you get bonus points for fitting the pieces together all last second, like Tetris or something?”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  Alice cleared her throat. “It means that unless I specifically lay out what we’re going to do, we never make plans. I never know what, exactly, is going on. Sometimes I swear you have conversations in your head where you tell me things and then you act like I should just know them, but I have no clue what you’re talking about!”

  “Like what?” he demanded.

  “Like last week, when you said, out of the blue, Mary had finally decided to go back to school and she was going to quit working to do it, and her husband was being an ass about it.”

  Mick paused. “. . . Yeah?”

  “You said it to me like I had any idea that your sister had ever been considering going back to school. But here’s the thing, Mick, it was the first time you’d mentioned it. I’ve met your sister like, three times. I don’t know what’s going on in her life.”

  “But I told you about it. So then you knew.”

  Alice sighed. “Yeah, but then there was the time you called me to find out why I was late, and I had no idea you’d meant the CinemaEight instead of the CinemaCenter we usually go to.”

  “Why would you have assumed it wasn’t? It’s the one closest to you.” He remembered that conversation. She’d been mad then, too. “What difference does it make, you got to the movie on time.”

  “It’s not the one closest to where I work. And yes, I made it on time, but that’s not the point.”

  “What is the point, Alice?” Mick cried, frustrated.

  She sighed again and was silent for a few seconds. “For you, this is fun. That’s all. Right? So it doesn’t much matter where we go or do, it’s all just . . . fun.”

  “It should be fun. Shouldn’t it?” He took a chance and moved closer to her. He didn’t touch her, but he was close enough to see her in the dark. “I’m not sure what the problem is. What’s wrong with fun?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with fun,” she said in a defeated, helpless tone he didn’t understand at all. “Fun is great. Fun is fun.”

  He tried again to hug her, and this time, she let him. Her body didn’t mold itself to his the way it usually did, but after a second or so she did put her arms around him. Mick buried his face in her hair, breathing deep. When her shoulders heaved, his heart sank.

  “I don’t want to make you cry, Alice. I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t answer him with words, but the shaking of her body told him more than he wanted to know. Mick held her closer, and again, she let him but it wasn’t the way it had been before. He pushed her gently away, gripping her upper arms, and tried to see her face through the shadows.

  “Don’t cry. Please.”

  She drew in a snuffling breath. “I’m okay.”

  “You’re not. C’mon, I don’t want to fight,” he said.

  “No. Me neither.”

  “That’s no fun,” he continued, trying to make a joke, to make light. Anything to keep this from going south.

  Her chuckle was halfhearted and waterlogged and a little strangled. “Right. Fun. This all should just be fun. Only fun.”

  It didn’t sound like she was agreeing with him, but he took it. “Yep. All fun, all the time. Okay?”

  “Sure,” Alice said. “All of this is just fun.”

  And then she hugged him hard enough to make him believe things were going to be all right.

  Mick to Alice

  Have fun at the beach without me. I’m going to miss you. You should have told me you had other plans, I would have changed mine.

  —Mick to Alice, unsent

  Chapter 44

  Perfect beach weather. Sunny, bright, warm enough to make running into the still-chilly Atlantic waters worthwhile, but not hot enough to make you wish you were in hell, where it would be cooler. With a book and a beach towel and a new bikini, Alice was all set.

  The only thing missing, of course, was Mick.

  She�
�d met his family a few times, but he’d never met hers, so inviting him along on this vacation, no matter how sexy the prospect, had not been an option. The last place she wanted to introduce him to her parents was in the house where they’d have to be sharing a bed. And it was nice, too, to have time to herself to sit and relax and read and read and read. With Mick along, she’d have been go-karting and paddle boarding and body surfing, she was sure of it.

  There were advantages to time apart in a relationship. Ten years ago, Alice hadn’t known that and probably wouldn’t have believed anyone who’d tried to tell her so. She’d been convinced that being with the person you loved was necessary, like breathing, and being away from each other meant you ached and bled and gnashed your teeth. Well, she was older now, and if she wasn’t wiser, at least she was a little more self-aware.

  Her time at the beach was something she looked forward to every year and built her vacation time around. She’d never taken a boyfriend along. Either she hadn’t had one or whatever relationship she’d been in at the time hadn’t been the sort you brought around your family.

  Which sort, she wondered, was Mick?

  They hadn’t tossed around the words boyfriend and girlfriend. Maybe at thirty-three it was silly to label whatever they were doing that way. Or maybe they weren’t serious enough to be giving each other titles, she reminded herself. Maybe, she thought, they were just having fun.

  She should let it go, Alice told herself and took a long drink of lemonade to wash out the bitterness. She turned her face to the sun to soak in the golden glory. She was on vacation, dammit, and she wasn’t going to spoil it with any kind of angst and woe. Beside, didn’t she know better now than to expect more from Mick than whatever he had to offer. Hadn’t she learned her lesson about getting all worked up about something that didn’t have to be such a big deal?

  It wasn’t as though she’d never had a fuck buddy before. A casual lover. Friends with benefits. Oh, since Mick there’d been one or two serious relationships, one that had seemed destined for a white dress and a walk down the aisle, but it hadn’t worked out. And because there was a curse to being self-aware, Alice had to admit it was because that although Brad had been a great guy who treated her well and they’d had a lot in common, when it came to fireworks it might as well have been rain every Fourth of July.

  With Mick, it had always been fireworks.

  Things had been strained between them since the fight about her trip to the beach. Nothing she could point out specifically, but a pervasive tension that left every conversation tasting slightly sour. They’d spent the night together before she’d left for Rehoboth. Dinner. A movie. He’d put air in all her tires and filled her car with gas and changed all the fluids, though she’d told him that she was only driving to Wendy’s house and would make the rest of the trip with her and Raj and the kids. He’d insisted on doing it anyway, as well as updating her GPS even though it took forever and she would far rather have spent the time with him doing something more . . . fun.

  They’d had sex, of course. And it had been good. Better than that, amazing, really. Mick had spent an hour getting her off, three times before she’d begged him for a break. They’d slept tangled together and woke before dawn to make love again.

  When it came time for her to leave, Alice had kissed his mouth and clung to him, squeezing hard. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

  “Nah,” Mick said. “You’re going to be having too much fun. Me, too, at the lake. Before you know it, we’ll both be home.”

  It was not the reply she’d hoped for, though she’d be damned if she told him that. It shouldn’t grate at her, but it did. So much, in fact, that she’d turned off her ringer this morning and left her phone in a drawer instead of taking it with her. Too bad she couldn’t turn off her brain.

  Not even the sun could burn away the images of Mick in Alice’s mind. The salt breeze tickling the fringes on her bikini top reminded her of his questing fingers and oh, God, his tongue. The splash of chilly water on her thighs when she got up to test the water wasn’t any better. If anything, it only exacerbated the feeling of not having been touched by Mick in three long days.

  “I’m going to walk up to the boardwalk and get some fries. Wanna come along?” Alice asked Wendy, who’d spent an hour or so in the water, body surfing waves with the kids.

  “Hell, yes. And I think we need a beer. Or two.” Dripping and slightly sunburned, Wendy gave her husband a significant look. “Hold down the fort, it’s sister-bonding time.”

  “Can I come, Mama?”

  Wendy gave Mallory a fond look and tweaked her nose. “Nope, kiddo. Me and Auntie Alice are going to eat bad food, drink some grown-up drinks, and check out the cute lifeguards.”

  Mallory made a face. “Okay. Gross.”

  “Bring me back some fries, babe,” Raj said as Wendy leaned to give him a kiss. “Before you run off with a lifeguard, anyway.”

  Wendy laughed. “Sure thing, ding-a-ling.”

  Watching her sister bend to kiss her husband of nine years, Alice, for the first time, felt a pang of envy at her sister’s life. Sure, Wendy and Raj had their share of arguments, but her brother-in-law clearly adored his wife. And told her so, never making her have to guess, Alice thought, barely managing not to slice herself open on her own jealousy.

  “I’m glad you married Raj.”

  Wendy gave her a glance as they navigated the steps from the sand onto the boardwalk. “Me too, most days. But I’m glad to hear you are, too.”

  “He’s a good guy,” Alice said.

  “Yes. I got lucky. Hey, I’m starving,” Wendy said, pointing at a sign on one of the many restaurants lining the boardwalk. “And I think instead of a beer I’m going to have a frozen margarita. Because apparently, that’s what ladies do.”

  “Ladies love frozen drinks.” Alice read the sign aloud and laughed. “Well, I do, and I guess I’m a lady. Let’s do it.”

  Instead of fries, they ordered a plate of nachos and some margaritas and sat under a pretty umbrella with the ocean air cooling them. People watching. Hanging out. Relaxing.

  “So,” Wendy said when the conversation had gone from the style of bathing suits some people really shouldn’t wear to the hazards and joys of day drinking to whether or not their parents were going to insist they all go out to dinner at some crowded restaurant instead of grilling in the rented house’s backyard and how they could convince them otherwise. “What’s up?”

  Alice sipped carefully and licked her lips, tasting salt. The flavor was too much like tears, dammit. She should’ve ordered something sweet, not tangy. “I think it’s over with Mick.”

  “Why, did he stop answering your texts and stuff again? What a jerk.”

  Alice grimaced, appreciating her sister’s outrage, though Wendy was off-base. “No. He answers my texts, at least he does that. We had a fight about me coming here. He thought I’d be going to Bernie’s, but he didn’t even ask me.”

  “You could’ve asked him to come along with us.”

  Alice shook her head. “Ugh. No. Not so last minute, and besides, it would’ve been super awkward for him to meet Mom and Dad here.”

  “Yeah. I guess so.” Wendy swirled the melting margarita in her glass. “How bad was the fight? I mean, bad enough to break up with him?”

  “Not because of the fight, though it’s pretty typical of the way he assumes things.” Alice frowned. “I told him I was going to miss him, and once again, he gave me some lame-ass answer about how we’d both be having too much fun to miss each other. And I thought . . . really? After all this time, he still can’t just tell me something so simple? It’s stupid.”

  Wendy was silent for a few seconds. “It’s not stupid if it makes you feel bad. Have you told him?”

  “Yes. Of course I have. At least, I think I have.” Alice shook her head. “I feel like I tell him all the time, and he doesn’t listen. Or get it. Or maybe I’m not being clear, shit, I don’t know anymore. All I know is that he say
s he wants me. But it’s not enough, you know? Wanting. I want a lot of things, that doesn’t mean I’m meant to have them.”

  “Ugh.” Wendy rolled her eyes.

  “I told myself I could just do the ‘fun’ thing. That it didn’t have to mean more, or become more. But it’s always been more with him, that’s the problem.” Alice paused. “I was doing okay, you know? Without him. I thought about him sometimes, sure, but then he swept back in my life and I’m on some kind of magic-cock carpet ride!”

  For a moment, neither sister said a word. Then they both burst into hysterical laughter. Better that than hysterical tears, Alice thought. Shit.

  Alice finished her margarita and let the frozen liquid settle in her belly. “He’s never, ever going to give me what I want, Wendy. He’s just . . . not. Maybe he can’t. All I know is that he says he wants me, but he won’t tell me he misses me. And he does not love me.”

  They both were silent for a minute. Wendy stirred her drink, looking sad but saying nothing. Alice appreciated the silence.

  “Have you asked him?” Wendy said finally. “If he loves you, I mean.”

  “I asked him once to tell me how he felt about me,” Alice said flatly. “And he said that he loved me on some level. I will never ask him again.”

  “I remember,” Wendy said quietly.

  “I never want to go through that again. Ever. It was horrifying.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  “And now it would be worse than the first time around, because see, I already know how it felt when it ended. How the whole world turned gray. How losing him destroyed me. And I won’t be that girl again, Wendy. I can’t. It was too much. I can’t invest myself in someone else that much again, and especially not Mick.”

  Alice was quiet. Wendy frowned. Alice shrugged.

  “You should tell him you love him, Alice. See what he says. At least give him a chance. Then if it ends, at least you said it, and maybe . . .” Wendy cleared her throat and sat up a little bit. “Maybe it won’t take you ten years to get over him. Maybe this time you could just move on.”