Take This Regret (Take This Regret #1)(40)
Author: A.L. Jackson

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 grey suit, his focus intent on the spot where he dug the toe of his shoe into a smal divot in the pavement.

“Christian?” I call ed, 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 tal er, 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 swel , transform, and rise in apprehension. The dol 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 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 dol 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 fal 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 fol owed that fel 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 dol 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 final y stopped thinking of 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 partial y bowed head. He had slunk further down against my car, his hands shoved even deeper in his pockets as he kicked at smal pebbles with his shoe.

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

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

Final y 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’l 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’l figure it out. It’s going to be okay, Christian.” He glanced down at our feet and then back at me with a frown still marring his mouth. “I’l 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 real y that important to you?” The question came out low, probing, as if his answer meant everything—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 fil ed 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 final y caught up to why he was here, where his concern laid.

He wanted my approval as if we were a family and there was a family decision to be made.

The step I took back was slight, almost imperceptible, but enough to place some distance between us before I completely lost myself in this man. I swall owed down some of the emotion, desperate to lighten Christian’s distress and at the same time desperate to distract myself from the need I felt to reach out and comfort him.

“Are you asking me for a loan, Christian?” It came out rough, il timed, though I couldn’t help but giggle over how ridiculous my attempt at cheering him up sounded.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he chuckled through his nose. “You never know, Elizabeth, you never know.” A ful smile broke through as he looked up at me, his expression relieved. “Thank-you.” I smiled back at him softly, it becoming harder and harder to hide the love I’d kept for him for so long. I chewed on my bottom lip and nodded, wishing I could offer him something more than another exhausted goodnight, Christian.