Take This Regret (8 page)

Quickly, I pul ed to the curb across the street, making sure two cars parked on the road obstructed the view of my car.

I sat, perplexed as I witnessed Matthew lean across the console of his car and kiss the girl after she sat down in the passenger seat. The kiss was not obscene, but clearly one shared between lovers. Then the two drove away and left me struggling to make sense of what I had just seen.

My heart sank as shock shifted to realization.
No
. I shook my head, biting the inside of my mouth and drawing blood. “No,” I wheezed out, this time aloud. I squeezed my eyes shut, wil ing myself to just breathe before I passed out.

Matthew was not with Elizabeth. I slammed my fist down against my leg, my head fil ed with accusations as I silently cursed myself for being so incredibly stupid. He was supposed to be
with
her,
loving
her,
caring
for her. I literal y felt sick with the hatred that coursed through me, that judgment directed only at myself.

Opening my eyes, I looked back toward the driveway.

A lump formed in my throat when I gazed at Elizabeth. She was so beautiful—too beautiful. My body burned for the only woman I had ever loved. Why had I ever been so stupid, so selfish? As if anything could have been more important than she was.

Elizabeth stroked her hand through our daughter’s hair, the love apparent in the gentle expression on her face as she touched the child’s cheek. I could wait no longer. I stepped from my car and cal ed to her from across the street.

“Elizabeth.”

A chil ran down my spine as his voice penetrated my ears, seeping through my body. The sound came like warmth rushing through my veins, leaving a shock of cold as it passed. My head snapped up, meeting his face, his blue eyes intense, emotion pouring from them as he looked from Lizzie to me. It was al I could do to keep from fal ing to the ground as I felt the world I had built come crashing down around me.

Lizzie’s words were barely distinguishable as she tugged on my arm, attempting to get my attention.

“Momma, it’s the nice man.” Al I could think about was that Christian had returned, here to squash the last piece of my heart. With one hand, I clutched my stomach that twisted in knots, the other pressed over my mouth to cover the cry rattling around in my throat. I found myself unable to look away as I stared at Christian through hot, angry tears.

Surely, he could see it on my face and in my eyes, the love for him I stil held there like some foolish girl awaiting the return of her long lost lover. It enraged me that he stil had that kind of control over me. But this was not about my broken heart. This was about the little girl pul ing on my arm, trying once again to get my attention.

I had to protect her. “Lizzie, go inside.” When I spoke, Christian turned his attention from me and gazed down at Lizzie with adoration. Why was he looking at her like that? Like she meant
everything
. With eyes alight, Lizzie stared up at him, grinning as if any second she would run across the street and into his arms.

I could not let this happen.

“Lizzie . . . go inside, now.”

“But, Momma . . .”

“Now!” I cringed, hating the way I sounded, especial y because it was directed at my daughter. The look on Lizzie’s face tore me apart, the confusion at being yel ed at when she had done nothing wrong. Tears fel down her chubby cheeks, and she hesitated only a moment longer, looking one more time at Christian before running into the house.

Undoubtedly, I had broken a part of my daughter’s heart by sending her inside, but what I was protecting her from was so much greater than that. Her innocent mind could not begin to fathom the hurt this man would ultimately bring her.

Slowly, I turned back to Christian, struggling to appear strong, to be forceful, and to make him understand he was not welcome here. My knees were shaking almost as much as my bottom lip, and I was certain he knew I was anything but. Every emotion I’d ever experienced boiled just under the surface—the love, the hate, the fear, the loss, and most of al , the betrayal— the turmoil within causing my body to tremble with rage.

He looked at me, his expression remorseful, earnest, hopeful even. It made me furious. Standing in front of me was the man who had left me to raise a child on my own, certainly never giving us a second thought. Now he stood just feet from me, expectant, as if Lizzie and I owed him something.

Unbelievable.

“How dare you.” The words were not what I expected to flood from my mouth, but they were fitting. How dare he show up here at my house after what he’d done. Quickly, I wiped my tears, trying to erase them from my face. He didn’t even deserve them. He deserved nothing.

“Elizabeth.” His eyes fil ed with emotion that I had once believed to be genuine, a softness that spoke of love and loyalty, but I knew now it was nothing more than a tool of manipulation. I refused to fal victim to it again.

“How dare you come here.” I stood up tal er in an attempt to stand my ground.

What I said did nothing to sway Christian from whatever purpose had brought him here, and he took another step into the street. I began to panic, my mind grasping for anything that would make him comprehend just how serious I was. “If you take one more step, I’l cal the cops.”

Christian halted in the middle of the street, looking shocked and a little bit frustrated as he roughed his hand through his black hair. He shook his head, the pain in his voice catching me off guard.

“Elizabeth, I’m not going to hurt you.” His words brought me firmly back to reality.

A barking, contemptuous laugh escaped my lips.

“You’re not going to
hurt
me?” I looked him in the eye, making sure he understood. “Nobody has ever hurt me as much as you hurt me, Christian.
No one
.” Yes, I sounded like a lover scorned, but that was exactly what I was. “Now I want you to leave.”

“Elizabeth, I’m so sorry . . . It was my fault . . . I know . . .

Please.” I watched as he stumbled over himself, tried to apologize as if any excuse he could give would gain him access into our lives. I refused to believe his lies. Once I would have trusted him with my life, but now I knew better.

I’d never al ow myself, especial y my daughter, to be put in the position for Christian to freely dispose of us again.

“Leave.”

“Please, Elizabeth. I need to see my daughter.” His daughter? Al these years I had known Christian to be a selfish man, but I could never have imagined the depths it went to. I swal owed hard, shaking my head at his impudence, unable to believe what he had just said. “She’s not your daughter. She’s my daughter.” He could apologize al he wanted, but it would never change what he did. He had discarded us, and he had no right in our lives.

I turned and left him standing there. I couldn’t bear to be in his presence a moment longer.

Lizzie was at the window, appearing wounded and frightened by events she couldn’t understand. In just five minutes, Christian had managed to throw my family into complete turmoil, and I had no idea how to repair the damage he had already done. Al I knew was that my daughter was hurting. I rushed inside and pried her away from the window. At first she resisted, struggling in my arms to get back to him before she buried her face in my neck. I could feel her confusion, the way she needed me to comfort her al the while being drawn to the man outside. Her tears ran down my neck and onto my shirt. I shushed her as I rocked her, holding her with one arm while my free hand ran from the top of her head and down her back over the silky strands of her hair.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I murmured against her head.

“It’s going to be okay.”

She pul ed back, her perfect face tearstained and broken, and asked me the one question I felt incapable of answering. “Mommy, who is that man?”

How could I tel her that the man I had just sent away was her father or deal the questions that would assuredly fol ow? Instead, I pressed my lips to her forehead and whispered, “Mommy loves you so much, Lizzie.”

She nodded against them as if her four-year-old mind understood that I was asking her for time, that my heart was not yet ready to break hers any further. She clung to my neck desperately as I hugged her before I reluctantly set her on the floor.

“Can you be a big girl for Mommy and go upstairs and play in your room until dinner is ready?” I caressed her cheek as I implored with my eyes. She gazed up at me, never looking more like Christian than in that moment. I smiled sadly at her, wishing that it didn’t hurt so much.

She cast one last glance toward the window before looking back at me. “Okay, Mommy.”

Once she was safely upstairs, I cautiously peered through the curtains, praying that Christian was gone, though intuitively knowing he was not. He sat in his car, his gaze meeting mine, his eyes pleading for forgiveness while mine silently begged him to just leave us alone.

Dinner was quiet. Lizzie said very little the entire evening other than
thank-you, Momma
when I set her smal plate of lasagna down in front of her. Neither of us ate much, and I knew her mind was focused just as much on what had happened this afternoon as mine was. I owed her an answer to her question, but I stil hadn’t found the right way to tel her.

We went through our normal evening routine, albeit halfheartedly. Her nightly bath lacked the normal giggles and splashes, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t want a bedtime story. She climbed into her bed, and I pul ed the covers up over her chest and kissed her softly on the head. I hoped she would snuggle into her pil ow and yawn the way she usual y did, but instead she looked up at me, waiting. I sank onto my knees beside her bed, knowing I could put this off no longer. I opened my mouth, searching for the right way to tel her, but she spoke first.

“Was that my Daddy?” Al the air left me as her timid, soft words came like a whisper into her dim room. They were fil ed with such hope, and now I could do nothing other than crush that hope just as soon as it had been born.

A single tear slid down my face as I nodded.

Swal owing, I looked around the room as I tried to gather enough courage to speak. Final y, I turned back to her.

“Yes, baby, it was.” Lizzie knew little of Christian. She had asked once, right after she had started preschool. She had wanted to know why she didn’t have a daddy like the rest of the kids. I had only told her that her father lived far away. I knew that one day I would have to explain the choice he had made. I just didn’t think it would come so soon.

Breathing deeply, I reached out and brushed her hair from her eyes, playing with the long strands while I began to speak. Sadness washed over her face as I described as gently as I could that her father had chosen a different life, one without us in it; and I prayed she wouldn’t understand what that real y meant. Of course, I should have known better.

My ever-insightful child looked me directly in the face and asked, “You mean my daddy didn’t want me?” How was I supposed to answer that? I found that I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. No child should ever feel rejected the way she had been. Instead, I climbed into bed next to her and pul ed her to me. I kissed her forehead, promising her that I had wanted her from the moment I knew she was to be born.

Christian may not have wanted her, but I had never wanted anything more in my life.

We stayed like that for what seemed like hours, me gaining solace from my daughter while I tried to provide her the same, her breath final y beginning to even out as she drifted to sleep. I al owed myself to relish in the quiet comfort of my child. Nearing sleep myself, Lizzie snuggled deeper and pressed her face into my chest, mumbling from somewhere in her subconscious. “But my daddy wants me now.”

S

My stomach twisted as my cel phone rang. I picked it up from the center console of my car, glancing at the screen as I drove—not that I needed to. I knew exactly who it was.

He’d been cal ing continuously since last Friday when he’d shown up at my house. I’d spent that night in Lizzie’s room, unwil ing to leave the warmth of her presence. Saturday morning, I was awakened by a playful kiss on my cheek. I had opened my eyes to find Lizzie grinning over me. It had seemed the perfect start to the day. That feeling hadn’t lasted long, disappearing when I discovered the four missed cal s, two voice messages, and three text messages—al of them from Christian. They were al alike, fil ed with apologies and pleas to make atonement. Initial y, I’d been shocked. I had no idea how he’d gotten my cel phone number. Over the fol owing week, the number of cal s had increased in direct relation to the fervency in his voice.