Take This Regret (Take This Regret #1)(26)
Author: A.L. Jackson

“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 all 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 all 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 pulled 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 swall 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.”

Chapter 08

Friday had always been a day I looked forward to, fil ed with anticipation for the weekend ahead and excitement for time spent with my daughter. Now it was a day of dread.

I glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. Only fifteen more minutes.

Plunging my hands into the soapy water, I tried to focus on the task in front of me instead of how much I hated this, but a mindless job like washing dishes wasn’t enough to cover up the ache in my heart.

Sharing my daughter was torture.

The day after Lizzie’s birthday, Christian had call ed at seven fifteen just as he had every night the week before and every day since. He’d asked to speak to me after tel ing Lizzie goodbye. He wanted to know when he could see her next, and more specifical y, he wanted a day of his own.

The man had the audacity to ask me for Saturdays.

Saturdays were mine, a day without interruption for my daughter and me, just the two of us. There was no way I’d concede to that.

Instead, I’d given him Friday evenings.

So for the last two months, Christian had shown up at my doorstep every Friday at six to pick Lizzie up and had dropped her off at the same place at eight.

He had two hours. To me, even that was too much. He deserved no time at all .

The worst part of it was how much Lizzie always looked forward to those nights with Christian, how excited she would become as she watched the clock near six. She never questioned whether he would show or not; she expected him to, trusted him to.

And I was left waiting on the sidelines to pick up the pieces when he didn’t.

It sucked.

I loaded the dishwasher and wiped down the counters, preparing myself to face Christian. Just those few minutes at my stoop exchanging “our” daughter were excruciating.

Two minutes later, the doorbel rang.

Taking a deep breath, I dried my hands and tossed the hand towel aside, wending my way to the front door.

Glancing through the peephole, I unlocked the door and swung it wide to Lizzie and Christian standing on the stoop.

“Hi, Mommy.” Lizzie grinned up at me, her hair in pigtails and her eyes alive. She clutched her dol to her side, that outrageous toy that must have cost a fortune, the one she never went anywhere without.

“Hi, sweetheart.” I smiled down at her, refusing to begrudge the joy my daughter found in her father. “Did you have a good time?”

She glanced back at Christian and smiled wide before looking back at me and nodding. “Yep. Daddy took me to the park, and we had a picnic.”

I covered my grimace and forced out, “That sounds like fun, honey.” My eyes flitted to Christian. His hands were stuffed deep in the pockets of his slacks, his tie discarded, the first two buttons of his white dress shirt undone. His hair that had been styled when he’d shown up at my house earlier was now in disarray, locks of hair obscuring the vibrant blue of one of his eyes.

He was gorgeous. And I hated him for it.

I turned my attention back to Lizzie, gesturing to her father with my head. “It’s time to tel your dad goodnight, Lizzie.”

Her face fel along with my heart. It was agonizing, watching her tel Christian goodbye, how she clung to him, their whispered words of love and promises of how they would miss each other until they saw each other again.