Unforgivable Read online

Alice had stopped drinking two hours ago, which was good, because the way Bill had been nuzzling at her neck and running his hands up and down her back, a better lubricated Alice would’ve been more likely to succumb to the temptation of wiping away the memories of Mick with another man. Instead, she’d bid Bill good-bye on her doorstep, though she had allowed him to kiss her—not chastely, sure, but not making out, either. Now in her comfy pajama bottoms with a carton of ice cream in one hand, a spoon in the other, she was scrolling through the choices in her Interflix account. So she’d be fat, single, and a little lonely for a while, she thought. There was a lot to be said about being unafraid to be alone.

  Dinner with Bill had been fine. Pleasant. He was charming and funny. He tipped well, something that was always important. Were they hitting it off? She supposed so, though nothing about the evening had been particularly memorable. It was nice to go out, though. Have food, some conversation. No pressure, really. No spark, either.

  At the knock on her front door, Alice put down the ice cream. Listening harder, certain she’d imagined it. Who the hell would be pounding on her front door at just past eleven on a Friday night?

  A serial killer.

  Alice, spoon in hand, went to the front door to peek out the curtains in the side panels, but all she could see was a shadow. Shit. Serial killers didn’t knock, did they? What if it was some Ted Bundy type of guy pretending he’d been in a wreck and needed to use her phone? Or that he’d lost his puppy, they did that sort of thing too, didn’t they, to fool people . . . ?

  Her phone rang.

  Alice screamed.

  The phone, still tucked in her purse, which had been slung over the newel post, let out another few bleats and went silent as the call went to voice mail. It rang again a second or so later. Same ringtone, the standard one she’d assigned as default, which meant it wasn’t someone she talked to often.

  Bill, she thought with a hand over her still pounding heart. It was probably Bill. She dug out the phone, but it was too late. She’d missed this one, too.

  Before she could check the voice mail or even swipe to see if she recognized the number, the person on the front porch pounded the door again.

  “Alice! I know you’re in there! Let me in!”

  “Mick? What the hell?” In her hand, the phone rang again. She’d never put his picture in her contacts, but since he’d called her once before, his name and number did show up.

  She should’ve blocked it.

  “Answer your phone!” he shouted.

  He was going to wake up all the neighbors. Alice swiped her screen, hissing, “Shhhhh!”

  “Open your door.”

  “No way. Are you drunk?”

  “Why not? You have someone in there? Let me in!”

  “Be quiet,” Alice said. “No, I don’t have someone in here with me. Not that it’s any of your business. Go away, it’s late.”

  “I want to talk to you. Let me in, I want to see you.”

  She tweaked aside the curtain and made a face at him through the glass. Mick glowered and gestured for her to open the door. She gave him the finger.

  “Alice. Please.”

  “Why should I let you in here? I told you I don’t want to see you.” She let the curtain fall shut, though through it she could still see his silhouette.

  “I want to see you. Please. I have to. I have to talk to you. Are you sure you don’t have anyone in there? Like the guy you were with earlier?”

  She paused at that. “What the? Stalker! Are you creeping on me?”

  “Jay told me.”

  “What were you doing talking to Jay?”

  Silence. She could hear his breathing, but didn’t give in to the temptation to tweak aside the curtain again. She sat on the stairs, though, in full sight of the door in case he did something insane like try to break in.

  “I wanted him to tell me how to get you to give me another chance.”

  Alice narrowed her eyes. “What did he say?”

  “Let me in, Alice. Please.” Mick’s voice softened. “Just listen to me. If you don’t like what I have to say, you never have to listen to me ever again. I’ll leave you alone, walk out the door. Never bother you. I promise.”

  “Never talk to me again?”

  Mick sighed. “Yeah.”

  “Never . . . see me again? Not even at Bernie’s?”

  “If I do, I’ll stay on my own side of the table and treat you like my dear, sainted aunt. I swear to you. I’ll never touch you again. Just . . . let me in. Please.” His voice hitched.

  The thought of that, never seeing or talking to him again, or worse, seeing him but knowing he had no plans to touch her . . . Alice got to her feet. Phone still pressed to her ear, she opened the front door. Mick stepped through it, kicking it closed behind him. He took her phone out of her hand, ignoring her startled protest, and shoved it into his pocket.

  He took her in his arms.

  He kissed her, long and deep and slow and hard, until gasping, they broke apart.

  “Alice,” Mick said, “there’s never been another woman like you in my life. I’ve wanted you since the first time you turned around and looked at me, and I’ve wanted you all this time, and I think I will want you for the rest of my life, if you’ll only give me the chance to prove it to you. Please, Alice. Let me prove it to you.”

  BEFORE

  Chapter 16

  Alice Clark had no idea how many angels could dance on the head of a pin, but she did know she couldn’t squeeze even a single one into her weekend bag. She’d be lucky if the bag’s zipper didn’t bust open. A weekend at Crane Lake in the summer meant bikini, sunscreen, flip-flops, nightgown, and a couple of cute dresses. A book or four. Minimal toiletries. But at the last minute she’d shoved a pair of jeans and some socks along with an oversized sweatshirt into the bag, which was the tiniest bit too small to hold everything she wanted to bring. Last year she’d been caught chilly when a summer storm hit, and Alice believed in being prepared.

  She didn’t know much about angels, but heaven must’ve been smiling on her because she managed to zip the bag and get it into the trunk of her car without incident. She even made it to work on time. The rest of the day, though, went quickly to crap.

  “I’ll be there,” she promised Jay, phone cradled to her shoulder while she typed as fast as she could. “Have the wine ready.”

  “As if I wouldn’t? Why didn’t you take today off?” Jay’s voice sounded muffled for a second. “You’re going to get there late, and you’ll have to take the crappy bedroom.”

  Alice snorted soft laughter and rolled her eyes. “What, you won’t let me share with you this time?”

  She’d been half joking, but Jay’s silence gave her pause. She stopped working and twirled in her chair. The last trip to Bernie’s, she and Jay had shared the loft room he always snagged because it had a small, private balcony where he could go to smoke. The double bed had been too small for two, especially if they weren’t lovers, which she and Jay of course had never been. She didn’t want to share a room with him, but the fact he wasn’t offering meant something important.

  “Jay!”

  “I . . . invited someone along.”

  “Yeah, you told me you had a new friend. Mick, you said his name was.”

  Another beat of silence. “No, another friend. He’s . . . special.”

  Jay hadn’t had a boyfriend in about eight months. His last breakup had been bad, right around the same time as hers. They’d both vowed off men for a while.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Paul.”

  “Not the guy from the club!”

  “The guy from the club,” Jay admitted. “I know. It’s trashy. But . . .”

  “It can’t be that trashy if you’re bringing him to Bernie’s for the weekend. Unless you’re trying to get rid of him, thinking we’ll scare him away.” She grinned.

  Jay laughed. “You might anyway.”

  “We’ll be extra super nice to him. You kno