Take This Regret (Take This Regret #1)(69)
Author: A.L. Jackson

He glanced at the ground, then back at me, and took the last step to bring us face-to-face. His words were intense as if he wanted to shake me to make me understand. “I am on your side. all I’ve ever wanted was what’s best for you and Lizzie, and if you’d stop being so goddamned scared for once in your life, you’d see that it’s Christian!”

With that, I broke. The tears flowed, and I fel into Matthew’s arms. He held me up just as he always had. He rocked me, shushed me, and told me, “It’l be okay, sweetheart.” He ran his hand through my tangled hair and whispered again, “It’l be okay.”

He stepped back, gripping my upper arms with both hands and squeezed me in reassurance as he pled, “It’s time to all ow yourself some happiness, Elizabeth. You’ve loved that man since the day I met you, and running from him now isn’t going to change it.”

I gasped and tried to catch my breath as I admitted, “I don’t know how.”

He kissed me on my forehead and squeezed me again. “Yes, you do.”

Then he touched my cheek and left me standing there while he walked back into his house.

Reeling, I sank down into my seat. I wiped at my tears with the back of my hand and glanced at Lizzie through the rearview mirror. For the first time since her father had walked out our door almost a week before, her expression was something other than numb, and tears stained her precious round face.

In silence, I drove us home. As soon as I pulled into the garage, I hurried to Lizzie’s door and gathered her into my arms desperate to erase the distance I’d placed between us over these last few horrible days.

I felt sick, final y realizing what I’d done, that I’d kept my daughter at arm’s length when she needed me most. And I’d done it to shield myself from the blame—and from her pain.

I stood in my garage, holding my child. I breathed her in, nuzzled her with my nose, and kissed her for the first time in a week. I ran my hands through her hair, her father’s hair, and apologized again and again, “I’m so sorry, baby girl. Mommy is so sorry.”

She dug her fingers into my skin and wept.

I swayed us in an attempt to console the inconsolable little girl in my arms.

She hiccupped, climbed up higher as she wrapped her tiny arms around my neck, and spoke for the first time. “I miss my daddy.”

I released a heavy breath and drew her closer.

“I know, baby. I miss him too.”

Chapter 17

Leaving Lizzie that way was the hardest thing I’d ever done.

The door slammed behind me harder than I’d intended, and I’d felt the intensity of Lizzie’s stare through the window as she watched me walk away from her. I couldn’t stop the sound of her begging me to stay from persisting in my ears.

The muscles in my chest coiled and constricted, and I had to force myself to get in my car and drive away.

At the end of the street, I stopped, buried my face in my hands, and tried to make sense of how everything had fal en apart and how in one hazy night my near-perfect life had been destroyed. It was a life that I’d known only for a handful of months, but one that had erased every lonely day I’d had before it began.

How could I have been so stupid? Why did I have to push and take when I knew she wasn’t ready?

I’d wakened to an empty bed with the taste of stale alcohol on my tongue and a hint of Elizabeth on my skin. It all rushed back, how the night had escalated out of control and had erupted in pent up passion, fast hands, and impulsive reactions. I was hit with the magnitude of the mistake I’d made. I hadn’t even asked but had come undone inside of her, careless and irresponsible. I should have known where Elizabeth’s mind would go, what it would remind her of. I’d stumbled from her bed and downstairs to seek her out. I’d wanted to reassure her of my love, to show her that no matter how imprudent our actions were from the night before, I was there to stay. I’d felt a fleeting sense of relief when I’d come upon her holding my shirt to her face.

That relief had been shattered when she’d pushed me away, demanded that I go, accused me of taking advantage of her.

She thought I’d used her.

“Damn it, Elizabeth,” I said aloud in the confines of my car as I rammed my head back against the seat. I contemplated turning around and going back to her house.

Instead, I turned out onto the main road.

While I drove back toward my condo, I tried to convince myself that Elizabeth just needed some time to calm down, and just like so many times before, any measure of progress we made was met with a step back.

Somehow, though, I knew that this time it was different. I’d touched Elizabeth in a place that never should have been touched, had unleashed something deeper than I’d ever acknowledged existed—something I’d created in her many years before.

There was no other explanation for her reaction. This woman was one of the best mothers I knew. She was a woman who loved our daughter just as deeply as I did.

Something had to have snapped inside of Elizabeth for her to put Lizzie through what she had this morning. I’d wanted to shake her, to grab her by the shoulders and demand that she wake up and see what she was doing to Lizzie—to open her eyes so she could see the fear in Lizzie’s.

Instead, I was left struggling to comfort our daughter the best I could, to promise her that it would be okay even when I real y wasn’t sure that it would.

Never had my condo felt more desolate than when I stepped through the door this Sunday morning. My head pounded with the remnants of last night’s excess, a reminder of my indiscretions. I crawled under the cold sheets of my bed and forced my lids closed, hoping for escape, a few minutes reprieve. Behind them I only saw my daughter’s face and heard the echo of Elizabeth’s words, I hate you . . . I want you out of our lives.

And I didn’t know who to blame.

I’d messed up, I knew. I should have been more cautious. Elizabeth was fragile and should have been treated with care. But I knew, even still , even after everything that had been said, that she had wanted me just as badly as I had wanted her. It had been building for weeks, for months.

Besides that, no matter what Elizabeth and I had done to each other, regardless of any mistakes we may have made and whatever consequences we had to face, there was absolutely no excuse for making Lizzie suffer because of it.

Eluded by sleep, I sat up and call ed Mom. I just needed someone to talk to, someone to offer me hope in a time when I felt entirely hopeless. I told her everything with as little detail as possible.