Take This Regret (Take This Regret #1)(44)
Author: A.L. Jackson

Exhaling some of the pressure in my chest, I focused on Lizzie, knowing I wouldn’t be strong enough to handle the disappointment on Elizabeth’s face while I described to her how I’d not only walked out on her once, but twice. “The night after Lizzie was born. I came to the hospital. I planned on apologizing to you, asking you to take me back.” I swall owed the lump in my throat and pressed on. “But Matthew was there . . . and I . . . left.” I mustered enough courage to look at her, to watch her have her heart broken all over again. She turned from me and buried her face in her knees, her body convulsing as she tried to still her racking sobs. She jerked up, burning with anger, unable to speak, and then closed her eyes, tripped back into sadness.

“That’s how you knew about Matthew,” she said under her breath. She seemed disoriented as she tried to acclimate herself to this most dishonorable revelation.

I couldn’t stop now, even when I was certain my words would do more damage than good; but when I came back into this, I’d promised myself I would always be truthful with her. “That night I convinced myself I was doing the right thing . . . sacrificing for you so you could have a normal life with Matthew. I realize now it was just an excuse, Elizabeth.

I walked away from my child because I thought I couldn’t have you. I never even knew if she was a boy or a girl.” This admission flowed like poison from my mouth, vile in its offense.

“I regretted it every day. I’d always expected to hear from you with a request for child support or . . . something. I waited, but none ever came.” No apology could ever rectify this wrong, but still I needed her to understand.

Elizabeth’s bottom lip quivered, and she shook her head, a clear dismissal of my reasoning. “That doesn’t make it any better, Christian.” She looked out upon Lizzie, and then leveled her eyes back on me. “Maybe it makes it worse. For so long I believed we never even crossed your mind, that the moment I’d walked out of your apartment we’d been forgotten, and to find out you . . . you waited for me to come to you”—she stressed the words—“. . . it’s just. . . ,” she said at a loss for what to say as her voice trailed off.

“I thought you were happy.”

She sniffled and rocked herself. “How could you think that? Did you not believe that I loved you? That I wanted to spend my life with you?”

“Of course I knew you loved me.” My voice rose in frustration. “There’s nothing I can say that can make any sense of the decisions I made. Bottom line, I was a selfish ass**le.” I splayed my hand through my hair, helpless, losing the grip I’d had on my control. I angled toward her, capturing her face with my eyes as I pled with her. “It doesn’t change anything, Elizabeth, but I truly am sorry. If I could, I’d take it back, right back to the moment I made you choose between me and our child. That was the worst decision I’ve ever made.”

She turned away and sat silent while she listened to my explanation, watching the waves race in against the sand, their constant ebb and flow but still steady progress as they claimed a stake farther up the bank, just like us, the low necessary to reach the high.

I looked out at the horizon, unable to discern where the ocean met the sky, and settled into her quiet as I continued to speak. “My mother . . .”—I felt her eyes fal on me—“. . . she always pushed me to find you, told me I was wrong in staying away. I never believed her until I saw Lizzie in that store.” I looked at Elizabeth who was staring at me as my words turned to desperation. “She means everything to me, Elizabeth.”

You mean everything to me. I didn’t say it aloud. She wasn’t ready to hear it yet.

Even under the weight of the conversation, I saw in her expression that she at least understood this, accepted that I adored Lizzie. That expression shifted as if something had just occurred to her, her words flowing with the quiet shock of her realization. “You left your father’s firm because of her.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to. I’d give up anything for my child.

Elizabeth glanced at Lizzie and then back at me. “I’m so sorry, Christian.”

“I’m not,” I said with complete conviction, because it was true. I couldn’t go on working for a man who would say such unfounded, disgusting words about Elizabeth and my child. I should have walked away six years ago.

She chuckled quietly, and I could tel by the softness that settled on her face that it was not at my expense, but in her own surprise with my actions. “You are a mystery, Christian Davison.”

I shook my head at her notion. “No, Elizabeth. I’ve just changed.”

She nodded almost imperceptibly, her lips parting as the idea seemed to penetrate her, her eyes setting in agreement. I hoped she believed that change was for the better.

Taking a col ective breath, we turned our attention back to Lizzie and watched while she fil ed bucketfuls of sand with a smal plastic shovel, tipped them over into towers that housed the captive of her fairytales, her mouth moving without voice as she played out the scene unfolding in her head. It was as if we had call ed a time-out, a reprieve from the past, needing a moment to regain a measure of equilibrium before pressing forward.

Finally, I broached the topic I was sure neither of wanted to discuss. “Wil you tel me about Matthew?” She released a heavy breath, though didn’t seem surprised by my line of questioning. “Matthew.” She released an affectionate huff. “We tried so hard to fal in love. The first time I slept with him, I was four months pregnant with Lizzie.”

I flinched at her brutal honesty, but that’s exactly what the last six years had been—brutal.

Swallowing, she seemed to get lost in the memory. “I cried the whole time.” Her voice dropped in slow ruefulness. “Matthew was so good to me. He kissed away my tears and promised that it would be okay, that somehow we would make it work.”

She glanced at me askance, not meeting my face. I realized I was holding my breath. “But it was always forced.

We loved each other, but not like that. The day after we got to San Diego, Natalie showed up at our doorstep to meet my new daughter and boyfriend, and it was like . . . like . . .” She looked up at me as if she were wondering if I could understand. “Like they could touch each other from across the room.”

“I let him go that night.” She laughed without humor and shook her head. “Of course he tried to refuse, adamant that Lizzie and I were his family, and he’d never leave us like that.” We cringed at the same time, cutting words that hadn’t been her intention. Her eyes flashed to mine. “I’m sorry, Christian, I didn’t mean—”