Take This Regret (Take This Regret #1)(55)
Author: A.L. Jackson

al ow it to happen now.” He lowered his gaze back to me.

“The firm is dropping the lawsuit.”

I shut my eyes, knowing I should feel relief. Instead, I found myself fighting to control my surging anger.

It was all my father—not the firm, not a decision left up to the board. It had been something my father had led, had spurred. I backed away, knocking into the wal . While deep down I’d known, I couldn’t help but hope that the lawsuit had been pursued because of my breach of contract or company protocol and not an act of vengeance.

Samuel moved to stand in front of me and exhaled as he placed a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking, Christian. Your father was a complicated man, but he did care about you . . . loved you.” I scoffed, the sound a scornful wound in the back of my throat. “How can you say that?” I looked up to meet Samuel’s eyes. “You know as wel as I do that my father hated me.” I clenched my fists, and a wave of grief passed through my body when the words passed through my mouth, grief for a relationship that had died long before my father had, maybe had never even existed at all .

Through all the pressures and demands, the obligation and coercion, somewhere inside me I’d always wanted to believe that my father must have loved me in his own way.

But it was clear he had never loved me at all .

The farther I wandered away from the house, the more distant the voices inside became. I plodded down the graveled path and wended through the opening in the trees.

My steps echoed over the wooden planks once I hit the dock walkway and trod above the murky, green waters of Lynnhaven River.

Tossing my jacket aside, I sat down on the edge of the dock, swung my legs, and watched as gul s skimmed inches from the water. I listened to their call and relaxed in the peace.

This had always been my place of escape, and I’d never needed the solitude more than now.

“Hey.” The subdued voice came from behind, her footsteps quiet as if she were unsure if she should disturb me.

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, and I turned to look at her over my shoulder. Though I was hiding, I didn’t mind her company.

The timid expression she wore spread into a smal smile, tender and kind. Always kind.

“Hey.” I inclined my head to the side, inviting her to take a seat.

She came forward, careful as she took the wooden walkway in heels. She tucked her skirt behind her and climbed down beside me, her apprehension clear. The last time I’d seen her she’d been in tears, heartbroken, begging me to love her but strong enough to know she wouldn’t stay for anything less.

I’d tried so hard. I had real y wanted to love her the way she did me, but in the two years we’d lived together, the fondness I felt for her had never blossomed.

“How are you holding up?” she asked as she nudged her shoulder into mine and peered up at me with warm chocolate eyes. Her dark brown hair was pulled back at her neck, wisps fal ing out and around her face. Though she wasn’t tal , she was all leg, a combination of sweet and sexy.

It had been an immediate physical attraction, the first time I’d seen her here in this very spot.

It had been at one of my father’s garish New Year’s Eve parties, my presence deemed a responsibility, and just as I’d done so many times as a teenager, I had snuck out back and hidden here by the water when the air became too thick. Brittany had come with her parents, and she confessed later that she’d fol owed me out.

We’d kissed at midnight, and in that moment, it had felt so right.

I shrugged, glancing at her. “Not wel , I guess.” She stared out over the water, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt that was bunched up over her knees. “I’m real y sorry, Christian.” She turned her attention to me, her mouth twisting in a grimace. “I know you two had issues, but I know it must be hard losing him.”

Releasing a slow breath, I rested my elbows against my knees, shaking my head. I still didn’t know what I felt.

“It’s just hard to believe he’s . . . gone.” Brittany leaned in, caressed my back.

I closed my eyes against the sensation, soothing and so wrong, rebuking myself for again all owing myself comfort at her hand, but I couldn’t find it in myself to pul away.

“I heard you reunited with your daughter.” She rested her cheek on my shoulder and gazed up at me, her expression fil ed with joy. She’d known how it had haunted me, had witnessed the sleepless nights, the guilt.

“She looks like me.” I leaned my head against the side of Brittany’s, grinning at the thought, Lizzie’s face never far from my thoughts. I wished she were here to experience the place where I’d grown up. I knew I’d never be back.

Brittany laughed, a smal , wistful sound. “Mmm . . .

beautiful.” In sync, our legs swung and our hands touched.

“Funny . . . I always pictured a little boy,” she said softly, her words laced with a hint of sadness as her gaze traveled out over the water

I tilted my head to look down at her. “She’s amazing, Britt. I wish you could meet her. She’s the sweetest little girl.”

“I’m so happy for you, Christian.” She looked back up at me, her brown eyes sincere. She bit her lip, snuggled closer, and clung to my arm. “And her mother?” As much as I wanted to say yes, I knew what she was asking. I swall owed, the movement jerky, and shook my head. Suddenly I felt uneasy, our faces too close, her touch too intimate.

“I miss you, Christian.” With her whispered words, she moved closer, brought her hand to my neck, and pressed her lips to the corner of my mouth. Her kiss was soft, wet, fil ed with need, lingered as she waited for a response.

On instinct, I turned to her, brought my hands to her cheeks, and held her face, restraining her. “I can’t,” I said, my tone strained.

“Please.” Her breath spread out over my face as she clung to my arms and pled, “Just tonight.” My body reacted, hungry for release, deprived of it for so long, knowing how good it would feel to lose myself in the familiarity of her touch. But to me, even considering what Brittany suggested was the most debase form of infidelity.

Even if Elizabeth never again belonged to me, I would forever belong to her.

I edged away just a fraction, but enough to make it clear that I was pul ing away, that I was saying no.

“You love her?”

I nodded and held my friend’s face while tears gathered in her eyes. The decision I’d made more than six years ago was still hurting the people I cared about. “I’m so sorry, Britt. I hate that I hurt you.” I held my hands firm against the wetness of her cheeks. “I never wanted to hurt you.”