Take This Regret (Take This Regret #1)(14)
Author: A.L. Jackson

We went through our normal evening routine, albeit halfheartedly. Her nightly bath lacked the normal giggles and splashes, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t want a bedtime story. She climbed into her bed, and I pulled the covers up over her chest and kissed her softly on the head. I hoped she would snuggle into her pil ow and yawn the way she usual y did, but instead she looked up at me, waiting. I sank onto my knees beside her bed, knowing I could put this off no longer. I opened my mouth, searching for the right way to tel her, but she spoke first.

“Was that my Daddy?” all the air left me as her timid, soft words came like a whisper into her dim room. They were fil ed with such hope, and now I could do nothing other than crush that hope just as soon as it had been born.

A single tear slid down my face as I nodded.

Swal owing, I looked around the room as I tried to gather enough courage to speak. Final y, I turned back to her.

“Yes, baby, it was.” Lizzie knew little of Christian. She had asked once, right after she had started preschool. She had wanted to know why she didn’t have a daddy like the rest of the kids. I had only told her that her father lived far away. I knew that one day I would have to explain the choice he had made. I just didn’t think it would come so soon.

Breathing deeply, I reached out and brushed her hair from her eyes, playing with the long strands while I began to speak. Sadness washed over her face as I described as gently as I could that her father had chosen a different life, one without us in it; and I prayed she wouldn’t understand what that real y meant. Of course, I should have known better.

My ever-insightful child looked me directly in the face and asked, “You mean my daddy didn’t want me?” How was I supposed to answer that? I found that I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. No child should ever feel rejected the way she had been. Instead, I climbed into bed next to her and pulled her to me. I kissed her forehead, promising her that I had wanted her from the moment I knew she was to be born.

Christian may not have wanted her, but I had never wanted anything more in my life.

We stayed like that for what seemed like hours, me gaining solace from my daughter while I tried to provide her the same, her breath final y beginning to even out as she drifted to sleep. I all owed myself to relish in the quiet comfort of my child. Nearing sleep myself, Lizzie snuggled deeper and pressed her face into my chest, mumbling from somewhere in her subconscious. “But my daddy wants me now.”

My stomach twisted as my cel phone rang. I picked it up from the center console of my car, glancing at the screen as I drove—not that I needed to. I knew exactly who it was.

He’d been call ing continuously since last Friday when he’d shown up at my house. I’d spent that night in Lizzie’s room, unwil ing to leave the warmth of her presence. Saturday morning, I was awakened by a playful kiss on my cheek. I had opened my eyes to find Lizzie grinning over me. It had seemed the perfect start to the day. That feeling hadn’t lasted long, disappearing when I discovered the four missed call s, two voice messages, and three text messages—al of them from Christian. They were all alike, fil ed with apologies and pleas to make atonement. Initial y, I’d been shocked. I had no idea how he’d gotten my cel phone number. Over the fol owing week, the number of call s had increased in direct relation to the fervency in his voice.

I pushed end to silence the ring, and in my frustration, I threw the phone against the passenger seat.

I was scared.

He was so desperate as if his life depended on whether or not he saw Lizzie again. My paranoid mind had begun to conjure terrifying scenarios, most of them centered on a call from Lizzie’s school saying she had suddenly disappeared, last seen with a man that bore an uncanny resemblance to her. If I approached the situation realistical y, though, I knew there was little chance he would ever do something so criminal.

That was my worst fear, though, what was legal, what rights he might have. Each night this week after I’d tucked Lizzie into bed, I’d researched. It seemed it all came down to what the court would believe would be in the child’s best interest. The problem was, I knew what was best for my child, and that was to keep her away from the man who would ultimately end up hurting her, but would they see it that way? It left me feeling completely out of control, unsure of our future. Vulnerable.

I cringed as my phoned chimed again, indicating a new voice message. I prayed that if I ignored him long enough, he would final y give up.

Work passed in a fog. Faces were a blur, and I hoped that the daze that surrounded me wasn’t affecting my job. It turned out I had hoped in vain. Scott, one of our two loan officers, tugged on my forearm and pulled me aside, his expression concerned. He was a thirty-two-year-old divorcee, and second to Christian, probably the most attractive man I’d ever seen. He didn’t drop his hold as his green eyes searched my face, his thumb running circles over my skin.

“What’s going on with you this week, Liz? I’m worried about you.” His voice was soft, tender, dripping with the affection I’d told him time and time again I could never return. He’d settled on being my friend, though I was certain he believed one day I would have a change of heart.

Pushing my bangs from my face, I sighed heavily. “I’m fine,” I whispered under my breath. “It’s just been a bad week.” What an understatement. It had been one of the worst weeks of my life.

“You want to talk about it?”

I shook my head, hoping my smal , forced smile would project my appreciation. “No, I’m fine. Thanks. I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

He nodded, squeezing my arm. “Okay, Liz, but I’m here for you.” He dipped his head, meeting my eyes. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Try to focus out there, okay,” he added reluctantly, plainly uncomfortable bringing up my deficiencies over the past week. “I’m not the only one who’s noticed you’ve been off your game this week.” He gestured with his head in the direction of our branch manager, Anita, who was watching us from her desk across the lobby.

I cringed, feeling guilty and embarrassed for all owing my personal issues to affect my job.

“Thanks for the warning.”

“You’re welcome. Now get back to work,” he said as his tone turned teasing. I grinned at him, shaking my head as I walked back to my window.

I took a deep breath as I got back to my drawer, giving myself a mental pep talk about leaving my personal issues at home. Even if the smile I flashed at my next customer was fake, it was at least a smile and not a grimace. She completed her transaction and wished me a good evening, and I bid her the same.