Take This Regret (Take This Regret #1)(48)
Author: A.L. Jackson

It surprised me, much as everything seemed to where Christian was concerned.

As I crossed the room, Christian watched me as if he relished each step that brought me closer to him.

I still hadn’t come to terms with the revelation of last weekend—a savings account in my name that held more money than I’d make in five years at the bank. The amount of anger I’d felt when I’d opened the fattened envelope had been blinding enough to make my head spin and my blood boil.

Of course, I understood what Christian was trying to do, that he desired to provide for his daughter and, though he never said it, provide for me as wel .

What he couldn’t understand was how in the process he had trivialized the trials I had overcome, the difficulties I’d faced, and the hardships I’d endured. It made light of the nights I’d spent awake while I’d worried for my daughter’s future and wondered how we would survive.

Part of me had argued that I couldn’t blame him, that he didn’t know what I’d been through.

But, real y, that was the issue; he didn’t know because he had never been man enough to check.

I still didn’t know if I could ever forgive him for that.

As deep as my resentment went, that anger paled in comparison to the void his absence had left, and I was on the phone begging him back before I’d even realized what I was doing, before I could comprehend the hold he had on me.

It scared me to feel my resolve slip as Christian chipped away at my heart, a little here and a little there, slowly rendering me weak just as he had done so many years before. Sometimes I wondered why I fought it, fought him, that no matter how hard I tried, we’d end up in the same place—the place where he had control of my heart, the place where he could shatter it just as easily as he could make it whole.

That pain was fresh enough to know it was not a place I wanted to be.

I remembered it as I sank down beside the two of them on his couch, conscious to leave a smal amount of space between us—distance.

It didn’t stop his eyes from their touch, from the embrace of his gaze as it washed over me, lingering on my mouth.

I closed my eyes to shield myself from it, my only defense. Even then, I felt him.

I opened them when I felt his attention shift and the weight of his gaze subside, his voice only for our child. “So, what do you want to do tonight, sweetheart?” It was easy to regret that I wouldn’t be spending the evening with them as I listened to them make their plans, an evening of games, stories, a quiet night in. Having watched them play enough, I was sure there would be lots laughter, plenty of hugs, tender embraces.

The clock against the wal indicated it was getting late, so with reluctance, I declared that I needed to go.

At the door, I knelt to hug my daughter to my chest and whispered for her to have a great time with her dad.

She nodded and squeezed me tighter. “I’l miss you, Mommy.”

I released a heavy breath against the side of her head.

“I’l miss you, too, sweetheart.” Even if I was looking forward to the evening, there was a part of me that hated any time spent away from her, the part that would always rather stay.

Christian stood to the side of us, his hands burrowed deep in the pockets of his jeans, his eyes soft as he watched us say our goodbyes. I wondered if he felt anything like I did when I watched them say goodbye.

When I rose I brushed his arm, and I hoped it wasn’t too obvious when I pulled away. Other than by chance, I’d only reached for him once, the day at the beach when he’d extended his hand. It was a connection that had proven to be too much, and I’d released his hold just as quickly as I had taken it.

If he noticed it now, he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead he smiled. “Thanks, Elizabeth.”

I shook my head and released a smal laugh at his needless thanks. “I asked you to keep her tonight, remember?”

“I know.” He inclined his head toward Lizzie. “This just means a lot.”

I nodded. I had long since accepted his devotion to our daughter, though I still couldn’t keep myself from praying that trust wasn’t a mistake. But even if it were, I wouldn’t steal this time from Lizzie. It was hers, and for now, she was adored. And as long as she was, I wouldn’t let my fears get in the way. I smiled down at my wide-eyed daughter and then directed it at Christian. “You two have a great time tonight.”

Christian looked at his feet and then back at me. “Wish you were staying with us.”

Me too.

Instead of saying it, I nodded and started out the door, waving over my shoulder with a laugh as Christian’s tone turned teasing, and he call ed out, “You girls don’t get into too much trouble tonight.”

There wasn’t much risk of that.

I drove across town and pulled up to Mom’s house a couple of minutes after six. The street was already lined with the cars of those I loved.

Mom had call ed a girls’ night as these nights were so aptly referred to, a night of reprieve from the everyday stressors of life. This was a night to laugh and unwind, to joke, to uplift, to renew the everlasting bonds of the women of this family. It served to remind us of why we’d flocked back to this city. I always appreciated the time set aside to back to this city. I always appreciated the time set aside to remember just how much we needed each other.

I walked up the narrow sidewalk to the smal house I’d grown up in. The neighborhood was old but valued by its residents, wel -kept and wel -maintained. The dark green shutters showed evidence of a fresh coat of paint, and the planters under the windows were bursting with fal color.

Lush trees grew along the house, tal and proud.

With my overnight bag slung over my shoulder, I walked through my mother’s front door without a knock. I was hit with the sound of high-pitched laughter coming from the kitchen. It was apparent girls’ night was already in ful swing. Grinning, I set my bag aside, made my way across the family room, and swung the door open to the kitchen.

Immediately everyone welcomed me, a resounding Elizabeth engulfing me as I entered the room.

Mom and Aunt Donna, the family matriarchs, our cornerstones, sat at the smal kitchen table. They were laughing as they drank beer from cans and ate potato chips. Both of their voices were a deep alto, a rich vibration that spoke of security and stability. I went straight to Mom, kissed her cheek, and told her how happy I was to see her.

Next I hugged Aunt Donna and then her daughter, Kel y, Natalie’s older sister. Kel y was two years my junior, sweet and shy. She always seemed to linger on the outskirts of conversation with not much to say but always had a permanent smile on her face.