Take This Regret (25 page)

She winced with the contact and pul ed away as her eyes fluttered open, leaving my hand suspended midair.

“Don’t.” She shook her head and swal owed. “It’s too late for us, Christian.”

I didn’t miss the doubt that washed over her when she spoke those words, though she continued in delusive determination. “I can’t do this,” she said as she gestured rapidly between the two of us, squeezing her eyes shut again as if she didn’t believe it herself. When she opened her eyes again, she amended the motion to include Lizzie and an expectant smile displaced the despondent

resignation of seconds before. “But I
can
do this . . . I
want
to do this.” She nodded vigorously, and her soggy smile spread, hopeful of my response.

I smiled slow, al owing it to smolder and then light with the joy that surged through my veins with her request, wishing nothing more than the freedom to kiss the sweetness of her wet mouth as it grew with reception.

Instead, I captured the last tear that slid down her face and then wound my finger in the lock of hair matted on her cheek, giving it a slight tug of affection in anticipation of what I knew was to come.

Because while she spoke of forever, what I heard her say was she wasn’t ready yet.

I stood, dusted off the sand clinging to my shorts, and extended my hand out to her. “Come on, let’s go play and with our daughter.” She laughed and wiped her face with the back of her hand before reaching up to take it.

I had spent nearly the entire weekend with Lizzie and Elizabeth. The three of us had played on the beach until the sun final y dipped into the horizon and brought a chil to the air, and we’d ended the almost perfect day with dinner and ice cream cones. With Sunday morning had come a text inviting me to breakfast, a meal shared over a table of laughter and ease, one that seemed to shape a sort of truce between Matthew and me. While a vestige of his distrust stil lingered, he seemed to slowly be warming to the idea of me being a part of Elizabeth and Lizzie’s lives.

I’d wished the weekend would never end, but unfortunately, Monday had come, and with it, the bal of nerves I currently found myself in. I straightened my tie, grabbed my briefcase, and took one last glance at myself in the mirror before walking out my front door and to the elevator. Looking for a position at another law firm had been the last thing I’d ever thought I’d have to do. I’d always believed that one day I’d be my father’s successor. Funny how things changed in the blink of an eye.

The elevator opened to the parking garage below, and I rushed toward my car. Just as I opened the door, someone cal ed out my name, “Christian Davison?” It was posed as a question.

I paused to look over my shoulder at the man in a basebal cap and jacket approaching from across the garage.

“Yes?”

With my confirmation, he pul ed a thick envelope from his jacket. I closed my eyes in fruitless defense as his intent became clear.

I supposed this was inevitable, but I’d hoped that once,
just once
, family would come first.

I took the package without dispute and sank into my car, wondering how he could do this to me.

With a heavy heart, I ran my finger under the flap and freed its bond.

It was exactly as I’d expected.

My father was suing me.

I drove aimlessly around the city, passing time, trying not to focus on the envelope sitting on my passenger seat.

I couldn’t believe the man could be so cold. He was suing me for essential y everything, as if he’d tracked my every asset and every deficit—every venture and every loss. The only thing he hadn’t accounted for was the money I’d socked away for Lizzie before I’d even known her name.

At least that was hidden, protected from his greed.

Beyond that, my father hoped to wipe me out.

At five thirty, I pul ed up to Elizabeth and Lizzie’s house

unannounced and agitated, desperate for the solace that could only be found in them. I was hit by a staggering wave of relief when Elizabeth opened the door and, with an understanding smile, welcomed me inside.

As long as I had these two, I could take whatever else was thrown my way.

I pul ed Lizzie’s blanket up tighter over her body, nuzzling my nose in her hair as I wished her a good night.

Elizabeth had already gone downstairs to give me a few minutes alone with our child.

Lizzie snuggled deeper into her pil ow and murmured a tired, “Night, Daddy.” With a slow grin, she added, “Love you.”

Every time she said it, I felt like my heart would burst through my chest.

I pressed my lips to her forehead and whispered, “I love you, princess.” I stood and crossed the room, pausing at the doorway to take in a few more seconds of my precious daughter. Then I switched off the light and left the door cracked open the same way Elizabeth did.

As I crept downstairs, my heart picked up a notch the way it always did when I knew I was going to be alone with Elizabeth.

Since our talk on the beach two months ago, I’d spent nearly every day with them. Each one had brought me closer to Lizzie, closer to Elizabeth, as our lives merged and slowly became one.

Being with them this way as a family brought me more joy than I’d ever believed possible. Not even the lawsuit looming in the distance could do anything to dampen my spirits.

But even with as close as we had grown, there was a part of herself that Elizabeth kept closed off. It was the part that was found in the tension that fil ed the room, the part that fought for release, each and every time we were alone.

She
wanted
me, I knew, but she wasn’t ready. I hadn’t pushed, though that was becoming harder and harder to do. I ached for her, a physical need that kept me awake through the long hours of the night and often woke me just as soon as I’d final y drift to sleep. My body craved attention, something it had gone so long without. The need she created in me had not gone unnoticed but remained unheeded, just as she continued to ignore her own desire.

I knew it was just a matter of time before one of us cracked.

I took a steeling breath in preparation of Elizabeth’s presence before I made my way across her living room and toward the kitchen.

At the archway, I peeked in and was going to say something to make myself known but stopped short when she came into view. Elizabeth sat at the table surrounded by a stack of mail. Her face was wet with tears as she read what she held in her hand.

I didn’t have to ask her what it was.

I stepped forward, tentative, praying this wouldn’t cause us another setback. I wasn’t sure I could handle her running away from me again.

She looked up when she heard me, her brown eyes watery, confused—maybe even hurt.

“What is this?” she asked, searching my face.

I closed my eyes and ran my hands through my hair, struggling to find a way to explain. So many times I’d wanted to tel her, to warn her of what I was about to do, but it had never seemed to be the right time to broach the subject.

At least that’s what I’d been tel ing myself. In reality, it had only been left unsaid because I was afraid of Elizabeth’s reaction—the reaction I now saw on her face.

Gathering my courage, I took the few steps needed to bring me to Elizabeth’s side, knelt beside her, and whispered her name. It sounded like an apology.

“Why?” She shook her head as she sat back, refusing to look at me and staring at the papers in front of her.

With a shaky hand, I took them from her and set them aside. Elizabeth only watched the movement, stil not meeting my eyes. I looked up at her and tried to get her to see me, to understand. “It was always hers, Elizabeth.” I touched the edge of the document that authorized the transfer of funds from my name to Elizabeth’s. The money was to be used for the care of Lizzie, and only Elizabeth’s signature was required to finalize it. The sum was significant, but as far as I was concerned, not nearly enough. Even though I couldn’t see it, I knew the sheet below described the payments that would come out of my checks and be deposited into Elizabeth’s bank account now that I had started with the new firm.

Even if my father took everything else, Lizzie would have what was rightful y hers.

I knew wel enough that the lawsuit would never yield what it asked, that the huge number was there as a threat, a way for my father to hold his hand over me just for a little while longer.

Even so, both my attorney and I thought it safest if it official y rested in Elizabeth’s hands, in the hands that now shook as she fisted them and pressed them into her thighs.

“You can’t buy us, Christian,” she final y said as she pushed the papers away.

I rubbed a hand over my face, frustrated with the situation but not surprised by the backlash. This was exactly why I had said nothing, why I would have kept the money in my name had I been given any other choice.

Leaning in closer on my knee, I turned to face her while she tried to hide her sadness behind the wal of blond waves that concealed her face. With an unsteady hand, I reached out and brushed them back, hoping to coax her from her anger. “Elizabeth, baby, look at me.” She flinched at the affection, at the touch of my hand, at the endearment that fel from my lips so easily. It was one that had been uttered so many times before but never since she’d walked from my door years ago.

I withdrew my hand, cursing myself for the act that had felt so natural—comforting Elizabeth, loving her.

I shrank away from the rejection and looked to the floor as I choked through the words, offered more of my regret. “I just want to take care of my daughter.”

To take care of you.

She chewed on her bottom lip, fighting another round of tears, her jaw quivering. She looked at the papers on the table and then final y back at me when she asked, “How long?” It was an accusation.

“I don’t know”—I shrugged with vagueness—“A while now.”

She shook her head in clear irritation. “I asked how long, Christian.”

Sighing, I looked away and answered quietly, almost wishing she wouldn’t hear. “Five years.” Her expression raged from confused to hurt to bitter to broken. Like an idiot, I reached for her again. This time she jerked away and put a hand out to stop me. She closed her eyes, guarded herself, put the wal back in place. “I need you to leave.”

I opened my mouth desperate to reason with her, to make her understand what my intentions had been, but nothing would come.

Swal owing, I nodded and stood as it hit me just how badly her refusal had stung.

While there were so many things I had to apologize for, providing for my daughter wasn’t one of them.

I paused in the archway to look back at her, my voice sounding just as despondent as I felt. “If you don’t want the money, Elizabeth, then fine, don’t touch it. Save it until Lizzie turns eighteen; but one way or the other, it belongs to her.”

I
knew
she’d be upset, that every time money was mentioned, Elizabeth would tense, that she fought ferociously to be independent because she’d had to do it for so long. Even so, I’d believed we’d talk through it and together we’d make a plan for Lizzie’s future, for
our
future.