Take This Regret (17 page)

The arena was packed for the last show of the day, the sky darkened, the air chil ed. We squeezed into a middle row near the top. We were al worn out, Lizzie especial y.

Christian had carried her in his arms for the better part of an hour, and even though we al knew better, Lizzie had insisted she wasn’t tired at al and wanted to stay to see the nighttime Shamu show and fireworks.

Obviously, I wasn’t the only one she had wrapped around her finger.

Christian settled next to Claire with Lizzie on his lap, and I had no choice but to take the smal space beside him.

The afternoon had passed quickly this time as I’d paid purposeful attention to the way Christian interacted with my daughter. I’d forced myself to not to watch them through betrayed eyes but with an open mind; to see the clear adoration in his face as he watched everything she did, the way his eyes lit up when she spoke, the gentle way in which he held her, just as he did now. She was curled up on his lap, her eyes drooping in lazy contentment as we waited for the show to begin. She was asleep before the loudspeaker announced the start. Christian stared down at her, his expression worshipful as he swept her bangs from her eyes, a tender hand ran down the side of her face.

I swal owed the lump in my throat, struggling to accept what my scarred heart warred against.

He loved her.

He tilted his face to mine, his eyes raging, so many emotions swimming in their depths. “I love her so much, Elizabeth.” So many times, I’d heard him claim it as he told her goodbye, but this was the first time I believed it. He shifted her, cuddling her closer against his chest, turning away to press a kiss on her head. “So much,” he whispered, though this time the words were not intended for me.

I was sure the show was spel binding, a magical finale that would have fil ed the wide-eyed crowd with awe, though I wouldn’t have known. Staring unseeing ahead, I was unable to focus on anything but the ardor emanating from the man who sat beside me, cradling my child. As the show ended and gave way to fireworks brightening the sky, I lifted my face to the cool night air, closed my eyes, and for one minute let it al go. I was so tired of being angry and of living a guarded life. In that moment, I convinced myself that this constant worry couldn’t stop what was happening beside me, and for now, I would let Christian try to be a father. He might fail, and he might walk away, but I just couldn’t fight this any longer. I would give him that chance to prove himself.

Though I knew Claire had intended more when she’d made that request, I doubted a wound that deep could ever be healed, that I could ever trust enough to risk my heart in that way again. But as my body was washed in the warmth

of his nearness, a part of me wished I could.

The ride home was spent in easy silence, and for the first time in nearly three months, I felt something resembling relaxation. Lizzie had done little more than stir when Christian had transferred her from the cocoon of his arms into her booster seat. Now I watched as moonlight filtered in through the window and across her face, her fair skin glowing.

A dul thrum of anxiety stil echoed in my chest, a reminder of the responsibility that rested on me to keep her safe, and I was sure this uncertainty was something I would never truly be free of.

Christian pul ed into my driveway just before eleven.

The neighborhood was quiet as I stepped from his car, both my body and my mind weary. Stretching, I was unable to stifle the yawn that came as I rounded the driver’s side of the car. Christian beat me to it and waited beside Lizzie’s opened door.

“May I?” He inclined his head toward Lizzie.

Out of instinct, I almost said no, but instead I stepped back. “Sure.”

Taken by surprise, he studied me for a moment before smiling sleepily and ducking his head into the back of his car. Once again, his movements were gentle, mindful of the sleeping child as he unbuckled her and gathered her into his arms, fumbling as he tried to grab her dol and backpack.

“Here, let me get that.” I nudged him aside, reached in, and col ected Lizzie’s things before I slowly led Christian and Claire up the sidewalk to my front door. Taking a calming breath, I inserted the key, turned the lock, and pushed the door wide open.

For the first time since Lizzie’s birthday, Christian stepped through the threshold and into my home, a fulfil ment of the promise he’d made to return.

He stood in the foyer, holding my daughter and appearing, once again, to ask for permission.

With a smal amount of reticence, I motioned with my hand toward the staircase. “Her bedroom is the first door on the right.”

Christian quickly ascended the stairs, his footsteps light as he disappeared at the landing.

Claire reached out and cupped my face, her touch a grateful whisper.

I nodded against it, al owing a single, frightened tear to slip down my face. She wiped it away and then hurried to join her son upstairs.

Muted, soft words floated downstairs. I had no idea how many minutes I stood alone before Christian and Claire final y left Lizzie’s room, their leaden steps revealing their reluctance to leave her. I fidgeted, unsure of what to do with myself in my own home, thrown off kilter by their presence.

Christian moved toward the door, pausing when he stood in front of me, his expression solemn. “Thank-you, Elizabeth.” He glanced toward the stairs and then back at me. “This was the best day of my life.”

I looked down at my feet, unable to respond. The day had been too much, and the sorrow that came with his statement nearly brought me to my knees. He shuffled out the front door, and in his absence, Claire wrapped me in her arms. “Thank-you, Elizabeth,” she whispered against my ear. “You are an amazing, wonderful girl, and I’m so happy you al owed me to share this day with you.” In confusion and heartbreak, I clutched her to me, weeping quietly against her shoulder. She shushed me and murmured, “It’l al work out. Just wait; you’l see.” She pul ed back and took my face in her hands. “You’l see.” She hugged me once more before stepping away and walking out the door.

Sniffling, I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, chuckling somewhat nonsensical y at the dol I stil held. I took it upstairs and tucked it in beside my sleeping daughter. I kissed Lizzie’s cheek and prayed that her grandmother was right.

Something had changed. There had been a shift sometime during that day, the day that had been the most amazing of my life. It had been a glimpse of what life would have been like had I not thrown it al away, if we were a family.

Of course, I’d sensed Elizabeth’s discomfort, how she’d guarded herself in an attempt to protect herself from me. But as the day had progressed, I’d felt her soften—

thaw.

Relaxing in the damp comfort of the San Diego evening, watching the beauty exploding in the night sky, surrounded by the three people I loved most had been surreal, a fantasy I’d had a mil ion times come true. The warmth of Elizabeth’s body beside me had been hypnotizing, and I could focus on nothing other than the perfect weight of my daughter in my arms and the heat radiating from Elizabeth’s skin.

It was then that I’d felt the shift as the tension seemed to drain from her, a calm taking its place. I’d chanced a quick glance in her direction. My breath had caught in my throat. My love for her felt as if it would burst through my chest.

I don’t think I could ever forget the expression on her face.

She was so beautiful, and seeing her like that, so peaceful as if she had been freed of a suffocating weight, had brought me such relief.

That relief became overwhelming when she’d welcomed me into her home. Every part of me had wanted to wrap her in my arms, to thank her endlessly for the gift she had given me, trusting me enough to al ow me into another part of Lizzie’s world—her world. It meant everything to me.

Obviously, something had transpired between Elizabeth and my mother, even though Mom refused to share it. She insisted anything Elizabeth may have confided in her was between the two of them, and with a gentle hand on my arm, she’d encouraged me, once again, to be patient.

And I would. I’d wait forever for Elizabeth.

Bit by bit she opened up. Last night when I’d picked Lizzie up for our Friday night visit, Elizabeth hadn’t vocalized the invitation but stood aside when she opened the door in silent permission that I’d accepted.

As much as I wanted to, though, I didn’t push it. At the end of the night, Lizzie and I said our goodbyes at the door.

I had no idea what to ask of Elizabeth or how far her forgiveness would go. But for now I rested, satisfied in knowing I was doing
something
right on the way to gaining back her trust.

Every second she gave was precious.

I just wished the minutes away weren’t so lonely.

Hugging the smal , square pil ow to my chest, I sank deeper into the black leather of my couch. Restlessness nipped at my nerves as I flipped through channel after channel on the flat screen against the wal , the isolation reminding me again that I was living the wrong life. It was Saturday night. I should be with my family.

Sighing, I pointed the remote at the television and clicked it off, deciding to give up on the failed attempt to entertain myself. I tossed the pil ow aside, stood, and stretched my arms overhead, yawning as I made my way to my bedroom. I shrugged out of my shirt, figuring a hot shower was my best shot at a soothing distraction.

From the other room my phone rumbled against the glass coffee table, buzzing before giving way to its shril ring. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand.

Eight twenty-three.

I rushed back out to the main room, expecting it to be Mom cal ing to wish me a goodnight, although part of me hoped that it was Lizzie thinking of me. I pictured her sweet face pressed to her mother’s phone as she cal ed just to say she loved me one more time before her mother tucked her into bed.

I grinned when I saw the cal er ID.

Elizabeth’s name and number flashed on the screen as the phone vibrated and rang out again.

I grabbed it, sliding my finger across the faceplate just before it went to voicemail.

“Hey, sweetheart.” I could feel the force of my smile, thankful for the welcomed surprise.

“Christian . . .” I felt sick when I heard her voice, panicked and afraid.

“Elizabeth?” Immediately the panic in my voice matched hers. “What’s wrong?”

When she spoke, her voice trembled, and I could tel she was crying. “Lizzie fel down the stairs.” Fear clawed up my spine, and I fought against the nausea rushing up my throat with the sick image that flashed through my mind. I was back in my room and dragging my shirt over my head before I had time to respond. “Is she okay?” I tried to remain calm and clearheaded, but I knew I was about five seconds from a breakdown. The thought of something happening to Lizzie

—I’d never survive.

Elizabeth spoke in quiet distress, whispering, “I think she broke her arm, and she has a cut above her eye . . . it won’t stop bleeding.” She stumbled over the last, choking on her worry, although her news instantly eased my racing nerves.

Lizzie’s injuries definitely didn’t sound as serious I’d first imagined them to be. I shoved my feet in my shoes and