Take This Regret (Take This Regret #1)(8)
Author: A.L. Jackson

Grimacing, I attempted to turn back to my fruit selection, but my intrigue was too great. Trying to keep a distance, I trailed behind them, pretending to shop for items that were already in my cart as I fol owed them down the same aisles I’d already visited. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t stop myself.

I was every bit as drawn to that little girl as she seemed to be to me.

In vain, I attempted to appear nonchalant as I essential y stalked the pair, counting to one hundred in my head before I fol owed them into the next aisle. This time when they came into view, the child was no longer walking but sat in the seat in the front of the cart.

God, I felt like a creep. I was making the woman nervous, and I could only imagine what she was thinking.

Fear was palpable as it radiated from her. She began to move faster, literal y throwing things in her cart.

But what could I do? call out to her that I wasn’t some sort of sick pervert? Assert that I thought I knew the child—that I believed she was mine? Even to me those words sounded crazy. They would only frighten the woman more.

When they final y got to the checkout, I slipped into a line a couple of rows down from them, absentmindedly loading my groceries on the conveyor belt while I tried to watch them out of the corner of my eye.

She was precious—perfect. I was completely mesmerized.

From where she sat two rows down, I could real y see her, her plump arms with the smal gold bracelet that she wore on one of her wrists, the pink bow that held her hair in the messy ponytail, and the little cleft in her chin that matched my own.

“Sir?”

I jumped when I realized someone had been speaking to me. My attention was so wrapped up in the girl I’d forgotten where I was. I looked at the cashier, having no idea what she’d said.

She rol ed her eyes at me before repeating, “One-hundred and seventy-two dol ars and ninety-three cents.” Digging out my wal et, I made my purchase while still keeping an eye on the girl. Every time we made eye contact, she smiled again.

When they headed for the exit, I felt as if I were in a race for time, as if this were the one chance I’d been given, and I felt desperate to catch one last glimpse of the girl before she was gone from my life forever.

Pushing my cart through the sliding doors, I scanned the lot and easily spotted the blonde woman awkwardly throwing her plastic grocery bags in the trunk of her smal white sedan while she kept one hand across the bel y of the child who still sat in the cart.

I felt bad for causing the woman so much distress, but I was powerless to the call the child had on me. I pushed my cart up the opposite side of the same row they were parked in, stopping a mere fifty feet from them. I stood, staring unabashedly, all owing myself a sad smile in return to the bril iant one the girl gave me.

The woman gasped when she looked up, finding me so close to them. She slammed the trunk shut and yanked the girl up in her arms, catching the child’s shoe on the basket. It tumbled to the ground. She looked at the shoe and then at me, her eyes wide with fear, before she turned and abandoned it on the ground. From over the woman’s shoulder, the child watched me, her little hand reaching out to me. I lifted my own in a silent goodbye, fil ed with an immense sense of loss as I watched the smal car jerk into reverse out of the spot, then speed quickly away.

Sighing, I shook my head, suddenly wondering if I had completely lost my mind. I had just terrified a complete stranger because I was inexplicably drawn to a little girl, and I couldn’t help but feel more than a little ashamed for it.

But it had been a nagging pul , one that could not be ignored.

Walking slowly to where the woman’s cart had been abandoned in the middle of the parking lot, I picked up the tiny pink canvas shoe and held it to my chest, wondering what in the hel I was supposed to do now.

I tossed uneasily in my bed, unable to force my eyes closed. I was more than accustomed to sleepless nights, but this was something entirely different. My whole body protested against lying idle, singing out that I had something to do.

I realized now that subconsciously this was what I’d hoped for and probably was the real reason I’d ever agreed to come to San Diego, believing there was a possibility Elizabeth had moved here, hoping one day, though I knew the chances were slim, I would run into her or one of her family. Just the idea had been enough to make me accept my father’s offer.

Sitting up on the side of my bed, I clutched my head in my hands as my elbows dug into my thighs. I took deep breaths and tried to calm my racing heart. I looked at the tiny pink shoe resting on my nightstand and knew there was nothing else I could do. It was no different now than it had been all those years ago. If I saw the child, I would never be able to walk away.

Just this afternoon I’d questioned my choice to come here, but now I knew there had been a reason.

I stood and crossed the room to the desk where my laptop sat. The screen lit as I raised the lid, il uminating the otherwise darkened room. I took a deep breath as I entered the name—something I’d done so many times before—but this time it was different.

This time I completed the search.

Chapter 02

I sat in silence, my mind a thousand miles away from the congested road I traveled. My thoughts were on a man I both wished I could forget and clung desperately to all at the same time. Why I did this to myself, I didn’t know. But every morning, it was the same. After dropping my daughter off at preschool, he would invade, the recessed memories clawing their way out and into the forefront of my mind.

Why couldn’t I just forget him? My daughter was almost five years old, but it felt like it had just been yesterday since Christian had call ously forced us out of his life.

And it still hurt.

I was so angry because of the bitterness that remained, my incapacity to move on—my inability to love again.

Shaking my head, I fought against the tears.

A car horn blared, making me jump and pul ing me from my daze. The lane sat open in front of me where the cars ahead had already passed through the intersection. I grimaced as I glanced in my rear-view mirror at the frustrated driver behind me, threw my hand up in an apology I wasn’t entirely sure he would see, and accelerated to free the buildup of traffic.

I wasn’t always like this. Real y, the pain only surfaced in the quiet times. I had so much love in my life; I would never discount it or take it for granted. When I was alone, though, it was impossible to ignore the heaviness in my chest—the ache.

I hated him for leaving it there.

No one should ever have that much control of someone else’s heart, and I would never all ow myself to become so vulnerable again.