Take This Regret (Take This Regret #1)(49)
Author: A.L. Jackson

Their sister-in-law, Samantha, stood at the end of the bar that separated the kitchen and breakfast nook, her bel y round with her first child. She sipped from a glass of lemon-mint water I was sure my sister Sarah had been thoughtful enough to prepare for her. I went to her, pressed my hands to her stomach, and told her how I excited I was to meet her baby boy. She held her hands over mine, her smile endless, exuding joy.

On the other side of the bar at the kitchen counter, Sarah was arranging cheese and crackers on a tray, mixing dips, and slicing vegetables. True to form, her hands were never idle. She only paused long enough to offer me a tight hug and tel me she was glad I was here before she was hard at work again.

We’d long since given up trying to get her to relax.

Natalie and Carrie sat on barstools and swiveled around to face the table. I leaned in to place a kiss on their cheeks, raising my eyebrows and shaking my head in mock disapproval as it became quite clear the two of them had been sucking down cocktails faster than Sarah could make them.

There were only eight of us, but within the confines of my mother’s smal kitchen, it felt as if it were crawling with people, overflowing as we moved around the space but comfortable at the same time.

Now that I was here, I no longer regretted that I wasn’t spending the evening with Lizzie and Christian. They needed their own time together, and I certainly needed this—a night to loosen the binds of my wound up heart, to leave it unguarded, and for once not to feel the need to hold myself in restraint.

With that thought, I graciously accepted the glass of white wine that Sarah offered and pulled a chair from the table. I curled my legs up under me and all owed myself to relax. I grinned at the conversations happening around me.

It was no surprise that Natalie and Carrie were the most vocal, forever entertaining. They’d always been close from the time they were smal children, and their bond had only grown over the years. While Natalie and I were like sisters relying upon each other in day-to-day life, Natalie and Carrie were best of friends. They’d spent years talking about boys, first kisses, first loves, details, and every secret.

Sometimes I was surprised it caused me no jealousy.

When Matthew had come along, Natalie had needed Carrie and had relied on her as someone she could count on who wouldn’t judge, who’d only listen. Just because I had given Matthew and Natalie my blessing didn’t mean that it hadn’t caused them a great amount of guilt, that there wasn’t talk, that everyone in the family had viewed their newfound relationship with approval.

I’d seen the shame Natalie bore, and I was the last person she could talk to during that time. I’d just been thankful Carrie had been there to keep her together while I’d helplessly watched her fal ing apart.

Mom and Donna dove into their favorite topic—greatly exaggerated stories of our youth. Each of us added our own memories to them. Laughter rang out, our smiles wide, the volume of our voices increasing with each story told, every glass emptied.

I found I was real y enjoying myself, unable to remember feeling so relaxed in a very long time. It wasn’t as if I didn’t treasure every second with Lizzie. But Mom was right. I needed a break, a night without responsibility.

Natalie and Carrie grew louder, giggling and chatting amongst themselves but not so wrapped up in each other that they weren’t a part of the rest of us.

Sarah final y moved from her post in the kitchen and took a seat beside me at the table. She groaned in pleasure when she propped her feet up at the edge of my chair and sipped one of the drinks she’d been feeding Natalie and Carrie all night. I flashed a meaningful smile in her direction, one that told her she deserved a break too.

As the night progressed, we went around in a circle, each one fil ing in the rest of us on her life, what had happened since the last time we’d all met. Some stories were of little significance, others of great importance, our joys and struggles, the everyday, the life changing.

“So, how’s my sweet little Lizzie?” Mom asked, turning the attention to me.

Apparently, it was my turn.

“She’s doing great,” I answered without hesitation. I’m sure the smile on my face was a mile wide as I gushed with mother’s pride. It was so strange that my baby girl was now already in kindergarten, and I told them of how wel she’d adjusted from preschool to “big girl” school as Lizzie liked to call it, how she blossomed every day, and how I worried if I closed my eyes for too long, when I opened them, she’d be a woman.

I opened and closed my mouth, unsure how to phrase it.

“Christian’s around . . . a lot,” I said careful y, hopeful not to upset Mom. Every time she’d asked, I’d skirted around the subject and never answered her directly. It wasn’t that I was trying to be dishonest or hide it from her. I just knew I wouldn’t know how to answer the questions she would have.

Just like now.

She frowned, the natural creases that lined her face deepening. “What does that mean?”

I tried to sound casual. “He just . . . tries to spend a lot of time with Lizzie.”

“Pssh . . . spend a lot of time with Lizzie?” Natalie cut in as she waved her hand in a gesture that said my statement was ridiculous. Shaking her head, she leaned forward as if she had the juiciest bit of gossip to share. She should have known better, because to the occupants of this house, it was. “That man is at her house every day, and it’s not just to see Lizzie.”

I shot her a look that told her to shut the hel up.

“What?” Natalie asked in defense as if I should have no problem with her sharing something so private. “It’s not a big deal, Liz. I think it’s great . . . so does Matthew,” she added with a shrug.

A col ective gasp went around the room, and that shock shifted to unease.

A mixture of embarrassment and anger flared on my face and heated my cheeks. This wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to go. I’d wanted to ease the rest of my family into the idea of Christian being a part of our lives, not have Nat giving them fuel for the assumptions I was sure they were already going to make. She knew my mother didn’t know Christian had become something so significant.

To the rest of these women, he was still the “infamous Christian Davison.”

“Are you back together with him?” Mom demanded with her brow knitted in what I could only assume was disgust. I couldn’t tel if that disgust was due to the idea of that being a reality or if she was hurt because she thought she’d been kept in the dark about something so important in my life.