The Regret Series Complete Collection Box Set: Lost to You, Take This Regret, and if Forever Comes (37 page)

She nodded as she took another bite. “Uh-huh.”

“Did your mom ever talk to you about why I wasn’t with you when you were younger?”

She shrugged one shoulder as if it didn’t matter at all. “You didn’t want me.”

I wanted to pass out from the dizzying pain her answer brought me. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I held onto the table in front of me, forcing myself to speak. “Lizzie, I’m so sorry.” Even if it hadn’t always been the case, even if I’d spent the first five years of her life wondering about her, longing for her, there
had
been a day I’d believed
this
child would ruin my life.

“It’s okay, Daddy.”

There was nothing
okay
about what I’d done, but I accepted it as her way of telling me she’d already forgiven me.

I leaned heavily against the table, lowering myself so I could look up at my child’s face. “I need you to know, Lizzie, that as long as I live, I will
never
leave you again. Do you understand?”

She smiled a simple smile, one of sincerity and trust. “I know that, Daddy.” She grinned and asked if she could have another soda.

~

It was just after three when I pulled into the spot with my name engraved on a silver plaque in the parking garage of my building. I jammed the up button several times, willing the elevator to hurry. I’d been due for another round of board meetings at three o’clock. After spending the hour after lunch at a nearby park, I’d dropped Lizzie off at the small, one-level house Natalie and Matthew shared. With a smile, Natalie had
invited me in. She’d enveloped me in an encouraging embrace when I explained I had to get back to the office.

What felt like five minutes passed, which in reality was only about thirty seconds, before the elevator doors slid open. I breathed a sigh of relief when I stepped out onto our floor a minute later, rushing to my office to grab the files I needed for the meeting.

I nearly tripped over my feet when I found my father sitting at my desk, his face twisted in disapproval. “So very nice of you to show up, Christian.”

Recovering from my surprise, I shook my head and crossed the room to find the paperwork. “Nice of you to let me know you were coming into town,” I threw back at him. Standing at the front of my desk facing my father, I rummaged through the files, grabbed what I needed, and shoved them into my briefcase.

“I just thought I’d pop in to see how things were coming along here.” He waved his hand around the room.

“They’re coming just
fine
.” He was already well aware of this. Sure, we’d had a few snags in the beginning but nothing that wouldn’t have been expected.

“Doesn’t look that way to me.” I stilled my frenzied activity and stared down at the man sitting in my chair, staring back at me, his dark eyes gleaming with contention. “Care to tell me why I’ve been sitting in this very spot for . . . oh . . .” He glanced at the Cartier around his wrist. “The last three hours while you were nowhere to be found?”

I knew my father expected me to live my life the same way as he, tied to the office with concern for nothing but the elevated title he’d given me.

I refused.

“I was with my daughter. Do you have a problem with that?”

He looked as if I’d just smashed a paperweight against the side of his head, reeling with the blow I’d struck him with.

The shock was quick to morph into fury. He jumped up, his palms pressed flat on the desk. “You hooked back up with that money-hungry little whore? Are you really that stupid, Christian?”

The briefcase I held smashed against the wall when I threw it across the room, glass shattering on the impact, frames falling to the floor.

I’d just told the asshole he had a granddaughter, and instead of thinking to ask her name, he thought of money?

I couldn’t stand to look at the pathetic man in front of me—his black hair salt and peppered around his ears, only worn that way because he believed it gave him a look of distinction—couldn’t stand to watch him trembling with rage over what I knew was his embarrassment over my bastard child.

I hated him for it.

With a shaky hand, I pulled my wallet from my back pocket and dug out the small picture of Lizzie I kept there. I slammed it down on the desk in front of him and made a decision I was sure I would never regret. “You can count that as my resignation.”

Chapter Ten

I had no idea what I believed anymore or where I stood. A door had been opened, a line crossed, and I couldn’t decide how I felt about it. I knew I’d let it happen, had been a partner to it, had even pushed for it. How easy it would have been to call my mother or my older sister when Matthew’s phone had gone to voicemail.

But no, I’d called Christian.

In the time it had taken him to drive to our house, I’d agonized over that decision, what kind of mistake I was making, and its ultimate effect on my daughter. Did I still believe he would harm her?

Then when he’d knelt before her, his worry and tenderness enough to engulf us both, enough to chase away my baby’s fears and assuage the panic pounding against my chest, I’d thought,
No. He never would
.

It wasn’t difficult to trace it back to its origin, to the moment I’d sat beside Claire and she’d made me question everything I’d held onto for so long, everything I thought I understood.

I shook my head and tried to focus on work, only to tense when a too intimate hand ran down my upper arm and rested on the small of my back. “Hey, Elizabeth, Anita asked me to finish up for her today. Do you need any help with anything?” Scott leaned over my shoulder and looked at my computer screen. He was so close I could feel his breath against my neck.

I shrank forward, the movement minute. With mouse in hand, I clicked through the daily closing procedures, brought up my reports for the day, and pressed print. “I’m just finishing up here.” I handed him the small stack of papers, ending drawer, and key. “Here you go.”

Scott was my friend, and I smiled at him in a way to indicate that was the only thing he was. His green eyes glimmered with misunderstanding. He’d been bold of late, his touch no longer a hint of desire, but overt want. He examined the documents for what seemed like minutes when it should have only taken seconds—stalling.

Shifting my feet, I tried to remain patient under his scrutiny of both my work and my body while he stood inappropriately close. All I wanted to do was rush out, grab my phone, dial Natalie, and ask her how the day had gone.

Today had been Christian’s first day to pick Lizzie up from school.

“Looks good, Elizabeth,” Scott said as he nodded and took a step back, still lingering.

“Great.” I glanced around, hoping for an easy escape.

“So, uh . . .” He looked back at the papers in his hands before looking back at me. “Do you have any plans Friday night?”

I grimaced, wishing he would stop continually putting me in this position, the one where I had to let him down. He was starting to make things uncomfortable between us.

“Scott . . .” I sighed and looked away, pushing my bangs from my face in exasperation.

“Elizabeth,” he pled low as a whisper. “I’m tired of waiting.” His dipped his eyes, searched my face. “Please, just . . . try.”

“I can’t.”

His voice raised a fraction in frustration. “Why not?”

“Please, Scott, you’re my friend.”
Don’t ruin that
, I wanted to beg.

He stepped back and huffed before he turned and left me staring at his back as he stalked away and into the break room.

I placed my hands flat against my counter, sighed, and flipped off my computer monitor while I wondered why I couldn’t force myself to say yes. It was
just
dinner. Why did it have to be such a big deal?

In the break room, I gathered my things from my locker and powered my phone, anxious to be in the privacy of my car so I could make the call. Tension filled the room, radiating from Scott as he trained his attention ahead, brooding as he refused to look my way. Selina offered a small understanding smile, a sympathetic shrug.

“Night everyone,” I called as I slung my purse over my shoulder and rushed from the room, through the lobby, and out into the cool evening air, the sky gray with overcast. I breathed it in and wondered when things had become so complicated. Walking along the side of the building, I studied my feet, counted my steps, and tried not to think of Christian and his pain that had echoed through my house, called to me, almost caused me to cave.

It was pointless. He pursued me in my thoughts and dreams—waited against my car.

I froze when I saw him, a deep ache stirring in my stomach.

He leaned against my trunk, slouched with his hands deep in the pockets of his dark gray suit, his focus intent on the spot where he dug the toe of his shoe into a small divot in the pavement.

“Christian?” I called, startling him, and his anxious face whipped up to meet mine.

In two seconds, I crossed the lot and stopped a foot away from him. “What’s going on?” My first thought had been worry for my daughter but knew I would have heard from Natalie had something been wrong.

Christian sat up taller, crossed his arms over his chest, and jerked a hand through his hair as he bounced in agitation. His demeanor caused the ache in my stomach to swell, transform, and rise in apprehension. The doll he’d given Lizzie lay beside him on the trunk of my car, and he picked it up and handed it to me. “Lizzie left this in my car today. I thought she might miss it.” He feigned calm, though the tight creases at the corners of his eyes served to belie it.

I studied the toy with narrowed eyes as if it held some sort of answer. I looked back at him. “Christian?” It was obvious the doll had nothing to do with the reason he sat against my car.

He groaned and ran his hand through his hair again, the movement causing it to fall in his face.

“I had a fight with my dad.” He quaked as he spoke the words, appearing as if his world had been rocked, shattered.

I shook my head, trying to process why this seemed so pivotal.

“I quit,” he clarified with a tight nod as if he were trying to convince himself that his action had been the correct one.

He quit.

Tears sprang to my eyes and I stepped away. “You’re leaving?” slipped from my mouth, slow and hurt, more an accusation than a question.

I couldn’t believe he would do this, not after everything, after I’d welcomed him into my home. I was such a fool.

Christian appeared confused, which then bled into the same sadness he’d watched me with for the last three months. “God, no, Elizabeth. Of course not.” That sadness thickened as he watched me come to comprehension, watched me wipe away tears of perpetual distrust and then the ones that followed that fell with the relief that he was staying.

“I’m not going anywhere.” His eyes shone deep with the promise, intense as they seemed to search mine for understanding—for acceptance.

I bowed my head and closed my eyes as I clutched Lizzie’s doll to my chest. Would there ever be a day when I would believe, when I’d stop waiting for him to leave?

I lifted my face to find his. “I’m sorry, Christian.”

I regretted my assumption, my knee-jerk reaction, and wished I could take it back and put the focus back on him. Once I finally stopped thinking about myself, I realized he’d come here for a reason. He needed support and comfort as he confided in me that he’d quit his job.

Since the day I’d met Christian, I’d known that working for his father had been what he’d strived for, what had pushed him further, made him work to be the best. While I never agreed with the reasons behind it, I knew how important it was to him.

And now he’d walked away.

I felt like a complete jerk.

Christian cringed with my apology, blowing air through his nose while he shook his head. “Don’t apologize to me, Elizabeth,” he commanded softly as he looked back at me in
what appeared complete understanding, his grievance only with himself.

Taking an unsure step forward, I looked up at him under his partially bowed head. He had slunk further down against my car, his hands shoved even deeper in his pockets as he kicked at small pebbles with his shoe.

“Are you okay?” I asked carefully, searching his face.

Frowning, Christian pursed his lips as if he were asking himself the same question.

Finally he shrugged and offered a feeble, “I guess,” though it was clear he didn’t believe it any more than I did.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Richard Davison was probably the least kind, most difficult person I’d ever encountered in my life, but Christian had always just dealt with it. I couldn’t imagine what would cause him to throw it all away now.

A fiery anger flashed across Christian’s face as he held his jaw rigid. “No, I think I’ll spare you those details.” He released a heavy breath, slumped his shoulders and he stared at his feet. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I’ve spent my entire life working toward a place in my father’s firm, and now . . .” He looked up at me, lost.

I wrestled back the urge to comfort him, to bestride his legs crossed at the ankles in front of him, to wrap my arms around his neck, and to promise him it would be okay.

Instead, I shuffled a little closer and tapped the side of his shoe with the tip of mine. “Hey,” I urged softly, “You’ll figure it out. It’s going to be okay.”

He glanced down at our feet and then back at me with a frown still marring his mouth. “I’ll never make as much working in another firm as I was for my father.” He looked at me as if he were waiting for my reaction, how I felt about this news.

“Is money really that important to you?” The question came out low, probing, as if his answer meant everything—as if it would somehow change something inside of me.

Because almost six years ago, his answer had been yes.

He shook his head, so slow, the movement filled with comprehension of the root of my question. “No, Elizabeth . . . not anymore. I just need you to know things might be different now.”

Once again, Christian blurred the lines of who we were as my mind finally caught up to why he was here, where his concern laid.