Unforgivable Read online

  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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