Take This Regret (Take This Regret #1)(50)
Author: A.L. Jackson

“No . . . no . . . of course not . . . he’s just . . . ,” I rambled, shaking my head, unsure of what to say because I had no explanation for what he was. I didn’t know myself.

“Wel if you don’t want him, I’l take him,” Carrie piped up, laughing through slurred words as if it were the funniest thing she’d ever said. “That is one gorgeous man.”

“Shut up, Carrie,” I spat in her direction. She had no right to say something like that, drunk or not.

She laughed, not even fazed that she’d upset me.

She’d probably not even noticed.

“I mean, come on, Liz. Have you seen the man? You think he’s going stick around? Wait for you forever?

Somebody’s gonna catch him.” She shrugged and smirked. “Might as wel be me.”

My hands shook and tears pricked at my eyes. Right then, I hated my little sister.

“Shut up,” I said through gritted teeth, seething before I stood and slammed my wine glass down on the kitchen table. “Just shut the hel up!”

She sat back, shocked by my reaction before a horrified expression crossed her face when she realized she’d real y hurt me. “Oh, my—my God, Liz, I . . . I’m . . . ,” she stuttered, reaching for me.

I held up my hand and shook my head. I couldn’t listen to her right now.

I stormed from the room to the sound of Sarah’s mock applause. “That’s real y great, Carrie. Real cute.”

“I didn’t mean . . . ,” Carrie said, trying to defend herself but stopping short when Sarah’s voice rose above hers.

“Just shut up, Carrie. You’ve said enough tonight.” The door closed behind me, leaving me with trembling hands and the sound of muddled, heated words coming from the other room. I rushed to get my jacket on, shaking as I fumbled with the zipper on my bag and then flung it over my shoulder and onto my back.

The door swung open, and for a moment Aunt Donna’s words became clear as she scolded Natalie and Carrie as if they were schoolgirls who’d been caught smoking in the bathroom, rebuking their banter, criticizing for inconsiderate words. Mom stood in the doorway, her eyes sympathetic and worried. As soon as they landed on my face, I broke. Tears rol ed down my cheeks, hot and angry and hurt. She crossed the room and took me in her arms.

She wiped my tears and whispered that Carrie didn’t mean what she’d said.

I shook my head against her shoulder, all owed myself to fal apart in her comfort. “I don’t know what to do,” I cried again and again, desperate for Mom to understand, to have an answer.

I don’t know what to do.

She shushed me, pushed the matted hair from my face, and shook her head in empathy.

“Oh, Elizabeth, honey.” She tightened her hold and ran her hand through my hair. “I can’t tel you what to do, sweetheart. That’s something you’re going to have to decide for yourself,” she murmured against my head, a hopeless consolation.

I cried harder, clung to her, wished for the day when just her touch had eased my every fear, her advice an answer for my every question.

How could I ever decide if I could never know for sure that he wouldn’t hurt me or wouldn’t leave me once again?

She stepped back and lifted my chin, searching my face. “You still love him?”

I was sure she knew I did, had probably always known although every word I’d ever spoken of Christian to her had been riddled with scorn.

Closing my eyes, I nodded once against her hand.

She released a heavy breath, and I opened my eyes to her slowly shaking her head. Her eyes were sad, and she seemed to struggle with what to say.

After what he’d done, I knew it would take a very long time for her to forgive Christian for hurting her child so time for her to forgive Christian for hurting her child so deeply, and I could see in her face that she was scared for me, scared for Lizzie. But I also knew she’d never ridicule me if I chose to be with him.

She turned up a smal , understanding smile and reached out to squeeze my hands, a reiteration. You have to decide for yourself.

I squeezed back. “I love you, Mom.”

Her smile grew just a fraction. “I love you so much, Liz.” She looked over her shoulder, back to me, and tugged on my hands. “Come on. Let’s not let this ruin our night.” Grimacing, I stepped back and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “I think I’m going to go home.” There were too many thoughts racing through my head, too much confusion, too many suppressed emotions vying for release.

Mom’s face fel . “Liz, honey . . . it’s late, and you’ve been drinking.”

“I’l call a cab. I just want to be alone.” It wasn’t real y the truth. I just didn’t want to be here.

She sighed but offered no further argument and instead, stepped forward to take me in her arms again.

She made no false promises, didn’t tel me that it would be okay, and didn’t tel me that it’d all work out. She simply smothered me in her warmth, showered me in love and unending support.

Final y, she dropped her arms and told me to call her if I wanted to talk.

“Night, Mom.”

“Goodnight.”

I stepped out, the cool night biting my flaming cheeks. I tugged my jacket tighter and hugged myself. I was feeling embarrassed, foolish about my overreaction, vulnerable in my thoughts.

Sniffling away the evidence of my tears, I dug in my purse to find my phone and dialed the number I’d seen plastered on the side of taxicabs so many times before.

The night was quiet, the city covered in a heavy sheet of dark grey sky. I breathed in the damp air, lifted my face to it, never felt more alone.

It took only a few minutes before headlights cut through the night and lit the street, and a taxicab came to a stop in front of my mother’s house. I stole one last glance behind me before I climbed into the backseat and gave the driver directions to my home.

Blowing the air from my lungs, I tried to clear my mind.

My head lol ed against the dingy vinyl seat, and I was unsure if the sick feeling in my stomach stemmed from the excess alcohol in my system or from the confrontation I’d just had with my sister.

My phone buzzed in my lap with a text message, then buzzed again and again with a progressive string of apologies from my little sister begging for forgiveness, promising she was just kidding, that she didn’t real y mean it, that she loved me.

I knew I real y wasn’t upset with my sister, but with the truth of what she’d said. Christian wouldn’t wait around forever.