Take This Regret (14 page)

“I’m not going anywhere, Matthew.” I kept my voice low and determined, but free of contempt. Matthew might hate me, but he had been there when I hadn’t, and my daughter adored him. Without fail, Lizzie had mentioned him in every cal we’d shared this week. The bottom line was I respected him, and my actions had given him no reason to return the favor. I accepted that.

He hesitated, dubious, before his expression hardened and he stood to hover over me. “Hurt them, and I swear to God I’l make you pay for it.”

I saw his threat for what it was—a desperate attempt to protect two people he loved and a threat no sane man would ever make good on. I could have easily thrown it back in his face. Instead, I nodded in submissive understanding, knowing I’d never give him a reason to consider it. He bobbed his head, curt and with what seemed to be a sense of satisfaction, before he turned and joined the very young woman who I now knew to be his wife.

How Matthew had ended up with Elizabeth’s cousin remained a mystery. When Lizzie had gone on about her Uncle Maffew and Auntie Natalie, I’d burned with curiosity, wishing I could come right out and ask about it. Somehow, I knew Matthew and Elizabeth had been together, but for one reason or another had ended up only as friends—or whatever they were. Seeing Matthew and Elizabeth interact was like watching an overprotective brother worrying over a little sister.

I sank further into the chair and forced myself to relax while observing the people who were here because they loved my daughter. The yard was smal enough to overhear names. Some names I recognized from stories Elizabeth had told me, and I recognized some faces from pictures.

There were also the unknown, smal children and friends who had become a part of Elizabeth’s life after I’d left.

It had probably been close to seven years since I’d seen Linda, Elizabeth’s mother. Her face and hands were worn from years of hard work, but her eyes were gentle as she watched her family from where she sat on the patio under the awning. She’d always struck me as cautious, slow to trust, but having loved with everything she had when she did. To Elizabeth she’d been a hero, a rock.

Elizabeth’s older sister, Sarah, worked ceaselessly, flitting in and out of the kitchen with bowls of food while her husband, Greg, manned the barbecue. Their little sister, Carrie, stayed at Natalie’s side, the two in constant conversation, laughing and giggling with their elbows hooked as if they were the best of friends.

And then there was Elizabeth. It was useless to try to keep from watching her. I sensed her every move, so I final y gave up and gave in. My eyes trailed her as she mingled with her guests, her smile wide and gracious as she welcomed each one, thankful for their presence.

I knew she could feel me, conscious of watchful eyes.

Being near her stirred me—my love and guilt and desire—

emotions that left my heart heavy and my legs weak.

It hurt.

I had to remind myself that anything I felt now could only pale in comparison to what I had put Elizabeth through.

Self-pity would only serve to discount my own actions.

Knowing that wasn’t enough to stop the surge of jealousy I felt toward him—Scott. He was the same man who had told me to leave the bank that day I’d shown up at Elizabeth’s work, the one who I heard her cal out to as he stepped through her door, the one who continual y reached for her. They were light touches, smal caresses from hands that clearly wanted more. I found myself thanking God when she returned none of them, but put space between them in an almost indiscernible way, in a way likely only noticed by Scott and me.

It fil ed me with relief, which I realized only made me al the more pathetic, taking comfort in the hope that Elizabeth was alone.

I wondered if I could ever stop being a selfish asshole.

“Burgers are ready!” Greg made the announcement, and the smal group of people broke apart, fal ing into line with their smiles wide as they fil ed their plates.

The thought of a burger straight off a backyard gril made my mouth water, but I had no intention of eating. It would be far too uncomfortable to expect food when I wasn’t even welcome, though I shouldn’t have been surprised when Lizzie stood before me, her smal hands clutching a plate extended in offering.

“Are you hungry, Daddy?” Kind blue eyes looked up at me, perceptive and aware.

I gulped down the awe and nodded. “Thank-you, sweetheart.” She graced me in that same consuming smile when I accepted her gift, tiny teeth exposed, dimples drawn, leaving my heart in my throat as I watched her dance away and take her place at the smal children’s table.

I ate my meal in my sheltered corner, though not alone as I felt Lizzie’s spirit linger at my side. It was almost too much to be showered in her undeserved love.

Once the food had been eaten and plates set aside, Elizabeth, Natalie, and Carrie brought Lizzie’s gifts over and placed them around her on the grass. Lizzie bounced with excitement. In admiration, I watched as my five-year-old daughter took time to have her mother read each card to her. She opened her gifts careful y and thanked whomever she’d received it from. Her surprise was genuine as she unwrapped each one, never expecting anything, but gracious to have received it.

Elizabeth had raised the most incredible child, so humble, so appreciative.

Lizzie’s eyes went wide when she opened the largest box I’d given her.
A doll.
She’d asked for a dol , which had turned out to be a more difficult request than I’d ever imagined. There were hundreds of them at the store, and I’d been thankful when the young employee had helped me select one. The dol was lifelike, handmade, and had long black hair and blue eyes. As soon as the woman had shown it to me, I’d known it was perfect even though I’d had to pry my jaw off the floor when I’d found out how much it cost. The look on Lizzie’s face told me it was wel worth it.

She unwrapped the other gifts from me, each a different accessory for the dol , each a piece the saleswoman insisted she would love.

When the other boxes had been opened, Lizzie rose and raced across the lawn and into my lap, throwing her smal arms around my neck. “Thank-you, Daddy! I love her!” I held her to me, murmuring against her head. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Happy birthday.”

She sat back, her smile so wide it stretched over her entire face.

My heart felt as if it would burst against my chest.

I would do anything to see that smile.

I reached out and pushed back a lock of hair that had fal en into her eyes, my smile soft. “I love you, precious girl.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

She hugged me again, hard, and then scooted off my lap and ran to finish opening the rest of her gifts.

I lifted my head and caught everyone staring at me. Al of them were quick to avert their attention back to Lizzie who started to open the last of her presents—al except for Elizabeth’s mother. Her expression was unreadable but intense and probing. I shifted in discomfort. If there was one person here besides Elizabeth and Lizzie whom I’d let down, it was Linda. I would never forget the last time I’d seen her, when she’d pul ed me aside and made me promise her that I’d never break her daughter’s heart. In a heartbeat, I’d sworn that I never would.

When Lizzie had thanked everyone a final time for her gifts, Elizabeth announced it was time for cake. Everyone gathered around the table, including myself. Unable to resist, I pul ed out my phone and recorded Lizzie as she grinned ear to ear, her eyes darting around to the people who loved her as they sang “Happy Birthday.” She sucked in a deep breath before blowing out al five candles in one fel swoop while everyone clapped and cal ed out, “Make a wish.”

Elizabeth’s face was indescribable as she celebrated with her daughter, ful of life and so much love. I saw joy and no evidence of the pain I had caused her. I stared a beat too long, and Elizabeth caught my eye. Her happiness drained, despondency taking its place. Shame urged me to look away, but I held fast.For a moment we were caught in each other, verging on something familiar, longing obscured by years of separation.

She blinked rapidly, breaking our connection, her hand shaking as she took a knife to slice into Lizzie’s cake.

I coerced myself back to my corner while thick, pink pieces of cake were passed out on even pinker plates.

Natalie stopped in front of me, arm extended. “Cake?” I raised a brow, caught off guard before shrugging and accepting the smal plate. “Thanks.” I offered a very cautious smile.

Her smile was wide as she plopped into the chair her husband had occupied earlier.

My smile faded as I prepared for attack.

“So, how are you holding up?”

I frowned. Was she real y asking me how I was doing?

“Um?” was about al I could manage, confused.

She chuckled, the sound warm in her throat. “That bad, huh?”

I shook my head and laughed under my breath at the unexpected exchange. “Nah. I’m just thankful to be here.” She took a bite of cake and murmured, “Hmm.” I turned and tried to read her, to search for her intent.

Her face was soft, free of displeasure as warm, brown eyes smiled back at me.

In an instant, I was taken back six years to the tender sweetness of Elizabeth.

Kindness.

Natalie radiated it.

For a moment, I looked away and gathered my courage before turning back to her. “Listen, I’m real y sorry about what happened at the store a couple of weeks ago.” I winced at the memory, the blatant terror in her eyes when I’d faced her in the parking lot. I swal owed, needing to explain myself. “I just saw her . . . and . . .
I knew
.” I shook my head with regret. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” She grimaced but shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, you scared the hel out of me. I love that little girl so much. I’d do anything to protect her.” She glanced at Lizzie and then back to me, her expression serious. “But now that I know who you are I . . .” She pressed her lips together as if she were debating what to say. “I get it.”

Did she real y understand?

She must have seen the desperation in my face, because sympathy fel across her own. “I believe you.”

“You believe . . . what?” I asked.

“That you love her . . . love them.” She motioned to where Lizzie and Elizabeth sat on the grass, sharing a piece of cake. She looked back at me, searching my face.

“You do, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “I do.”

She gave me a curt nod. “Good. Then don’t mess this up.”

I ran my hand through my hair, trying to make sense of this conversation. Two hours ago, her husband had al but threatened to kil me, and she seemed to be encouraging me. She grinned at my confusion, scooped her last piece of cake into her mouth, and hopped up. “See you around?” she prodded, her brow raised.

I nodded and repeated what I’d told her husband earlier. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Satisfaction spread across her face, and she extended her hand. Tentative, I reached out and shook it.

“Wel then, it’s nice to final y meet you, Christian Davison.” She breezed across the lawn, leaving me shaking my head, baffled to find such an unlikely al y, but thankful nonetheless.

The party wound down, and friends filtered out, saying their goodbyes and thank-yous.

I lingered.

I didn’t want to say goodbye.

When the last of Lizzie’s guests had left and only Matthew and Natalie remained, I reluctantly stood and made my way across the lawn. Lizzie sat in the grass playing with the dol I had given her.

I crouched down to run my hand through her soft hair. “I have to go now, sweetheart.”

Lizzie saddened. “Already?” Apparently, she didn’t want me to say goodbye either.

Smiling, I settled down in the grass next to her, pul ing her onto my lap and into my arms. I hugged her to me. “Yes, my angel, I have to go.”

She hugged me tighter, and from her mouth came a whispered plea. “Wil you come back?”

I choked on her fear.

I pul ed back, looking her in the eye. “Yes, Lizzie, I’l be back. I promise.” Glancing up, I caught Elizabeth watching us from inside the kitchen window, her wounds prominent in the lines across her forehead. “I promise,” I said again as I buried my face against the side of Lizzie’s head.

I had to force myself to stand, to turn my back, and to leave my little girl sitting in the middle of her yard. My feet were heavy as they entered the kitchen of the smal house.

My steps faltered when I came upon Elizabeth.

She stood with her back to me. Her hands were flat against the kitchen counter and her breathing was audible as she stared out at Lizzie through the window.

“Thank-you, Elizabeth,” I whispered.

She whimpered, her voice a quiet rasp, “Please, don’t hurt her.”

Al the air left me.

“I won’t.”
Never.

Her body trembled as a quiet sob escaped. “What do you want, Christian?”

What did I want?

To make her smile, to wipe away her tears, to hold her.

To be a father, a real father, not one in title, but one who’d earned that right.

I wanted to stay.

“I want my family,” I forced through the lump in my throat.

Elizabeth went rigid, her hands digging into the counter for support, her words sharp. “Get out of my house.” I swal owed down my pain, the fear that I might never receive forgiveness, and nodded. “Okay,” I said quietly as I turned to leave. I hesitated in the archway, looking back over my shoulder. “But I’m coming back.”