Consumed with uncertainty, I watched the man who had crushed me and who still had control of my heart. I wanted to believe what Claire was telling me. Believe that he’d really loved me, believe that he loved me now—most importantly, that he’d never hurt me again. I just didn’t know if I ever could.
As if she had read my thoughts, Claire patted my hand, understanding thick in her words. “Sometimes forgiveness takes time.”
Heaviness settled in my chest, and I found it difficult to speak. “I don’t know if I can.”
“But you still love him,” she said.
I sighed and turned my face away. Loving Christian was something I’d never admit aloud, something I barely acknowledged in my own head. Sure, Matthew and Natalie knew, though it remained unspoken between us.
“I see it in the way you look at him,” she pressed on in conviction.
My silence could only affirm what she already knew.
Quiet settled over us as we watched Christian and Lizzie play. So much had changed in our years of separation, so much I didn’t understand. Somehow, her heart had softened and expanded while mine had grown hard and cynical. That prominent part of me screamed at how careless I was by exposing my feelings to Christian’s mother.
But for a few peaceful moments, I chose to ignore that voice and just absorb the solace lent in her words.
“Thank you,” I whispered. I was thanking her for so many things, for the advice I wasn’t sure how to handle, for her compassion, for her understanding, for loving my daughter, for loving Christian—maybe even for loving me. No doubt she’d already bound herself to my heart. Most of all, I was thanking her for showing me people had the ability to change.
Claire’s hand tightened over mine, and she shook her head slowly. “No, Elizabeth, thank you.”
~
The arena was packed for the last show of the day, the sky darkened, the air chilled. We squeezed into a middle row near the top. We were all worn out, Lizzie especially. Christian had carried her in his arms for the better part of an hour, and even though we all knew better, Lizzie had insisted she wasn’t tired at all and wanted to stay to see the nighttime Shamu show and fireworks.
Obviously, I wasn’t the only one she had wrapped around her finger.
Christian settled next to Claire with Lizzie on his lap, and I had no choice but to take the small space beside him.
The afternoon had passed quickly this time as I’d paid purposeful attention to the way Christian interacted with my daughter. I’d forced myself to not to watch them through betrayed eyes but with an open mind, to see the clear adoration in his face as he watched everything she did, the way his eyes lit up when she spoke, the gentle way in which he held her, just as he did now. She was curled up on his lap, her eyes drooping in lazy contentment as we waited for the show to begin. She was asleep before the loudspeaker announced the start. Christian stared down at her, his expression worshipful as he swept her bangs from her eyes, a tender hand ran down the side of her face.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, struggling to accept what my scarred heart warred against.
He loved her.
He tilted his face to mine, his eyes raging, so many emotions swimming in their depths. “I love her so much, Elizabeth.” So many times, I’d heard him claim it as he told her goodbye, but this was the first time I believed it. He shifted her, cuddling her closer against his chest, turning away to press a kiss on her head. “So much,” he whispered, though this time the words were not intended for me.
I was sure the show was spellbinding, a magical finale that would have filled the wide-eyed crowd with awe, though I wouldn’t have known. Staring unseeing ahead, I was unable to focus on anything but the ardor emanating from the man who sat beside me, cradling my child. As the show ended and gave way to fireworks brightening the sky, I lifted my face to the cool night air, closed my eyes, and for one minute let it all go. I was so tired of being angry and of living a guarded life. In that moment, I convinced myself that this constant worry couldn’t stop what was happening beside me, and for now, I would let Christian try to be a father. He might fail, and he might walk away, but I just couldn’t fight this any longer. I would give him that chance to prove himself.
Though I knew Claire had intended more when she’d made that request, I doubted a wound that deep could ever be healed, that I could ever trust enough to risk my heart in that way again. But as my body was washed in the warmth of his nearness, a part of me wished I could.
~
The ride home was spent in easy silence, and for the first time in nearly three months, I felt something resembling relaxation. Lizzie had done little more than stir when Christian had transferred her from the cocoon of his arms into her booster seat. Now I watched as moonlight filtered in through the window and across her face, her fair skin glowing.
A dull thrum of anxiety still echoed in my chest, a reminder of the responsibility that rested on me to keep her safe, and I was sure this uncertainty was something I would never truly be free of.
Christian pulled into my driveway just before eleven. The neighborhood was quiet as I stepped from his car, both my body and my mind weary. Stretching, I was unable to stifle the yawn that came as I rounded the driver’s side of the car. Christian beat me to it and waited beside Lizzie’s opened door.
“May I?” He inclined his head toward Lizzie.
Out of instinct, I almost said no, but instead I stepped back. “Sure.”
Taken by surprise, he studied me for a moment before smiling sleepily and ducking his head into the back of his car. Once again, his movements were gentle, mindful of the sleeping child as he unbuckled her and gathered her into his arms, fumbling as he tried to grab her doll and backpack.
“Here, let me get that.” I nudged him aside, reached in, and collected Lizzie’s things before I slowly led Christian and Claire up the sidewalk to my front door. Taking a calming breath, I inserted the key, turned the lock, and pushed the door wide open.
For the first time since Lizzie’s birthday, Christian stepped through the threshold and into my home, a fulfillment of the promise he’d made to return.
He stood in the foyer, holding my daughter and appearing, once again, to ask for permission.
With a small amount of reticence, I motioned with my hand toward the staircase. “Her bedroom is the first door on the right.”
Christian quickly ascended the stairs, his footsteps light as he disappeared at the landing.
Claire reached out and cupped my face, her touch a grateful whisper.
I nodded against it, allowing a single, frightened tear to slip down my face. She wiped it away and then hurried to join her son upstairs.
Muted, soft words floated downstairs. I had no idea how many minutes I stood alone before Christian and Claire finally left Lizzie’s room, their leaden steps revealing their reluctance to leave her. I fidgeted, unsure of what to do with myself in my own home, thrown off kilter by their presence.
Christian moved toward the door, pausing when he stood in front of me, his expression solemn. “Thank you, Elizabeth.” He glanced toward the stairs and then back at me. “This was the best day of my life.”
I looked down at my feet, unable to respond. The day had been too much, and the sorrow that came with his statement nearly brought me to my knees. He shuffled out the front door, and in his absence, Claire wrapped me in her arms. “Thank you, Elizabeth,” she whispered against my ear. “You are an amazing, wonderful girl, and I’m so happy you allowed me to share this day with you.”
In confusion and heartbreak, I clutched her to me, weeping quietly against her shoulder. She shushed me and murmured, “It’ll all work out. Just wait, you’ll see.” She pulled back and took my face in her hands. “You’ll see.”
She hugged me once more before stepping away and walking out the door.
Sniffling, I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, chuckling somewhat nonsensically at the doll I still held. I took it upstairs and tucked it in
beside my sleeping daughter. I kissed Lizzie’s cheek and prayed that her grandmother was right.
Chapter Nine
Something had changed. There had been a shift sometime during that day, the day that had been the most amazing of my life. It had been a glimpse of what life would have been like had I not thrown it all away, if we had been a family.
Of course, I’d sensed Elizabeth’s discomfort, how she’d guarded herself in an attempt to protect herself from me. But as the day had progressed, I’d felt her soften—thaw.
Relaxing in the damp comfort of the San Diego evening, watching the beauty exploding in the night sky, surrounded by the three people I loved most, had been surreal, a fantasy I’d had a million times come true. The warmth of Elizabeth’s body beside me had been hypnotizing, and I could focus on nothing other than the perfect weight of my daughter in my arms and the heat radiating from Elizabeth’s skin.
It was then that I’d felt the shift as the tension seemed to drain from her, a calm taking its place. I’d chanced a quick glance in her direction. My breath had caught in my throat. My love for her felt as if it would burst through my chest.
I don’t think I could ever forget the expression on her face.
She was so beautiful, and seeing her like that, so peaceful as if she had been freed of a suffocating weight, had brought me such relief.
That relief became overwhelming when she’d welcomed me into her home. Every part of me had wanted to wrap her in my arms, to thank her endlessly for the gift she had given me, trusting me enough to allow me into another part of Lizzie’s world—her world. It meant everything to me.
Obviously, something had transpired between Elizabeth and my mother, even though Mom refused to share it. She insisted anything Elizabeth may have confided in her was between the two of them, and with a gentle hand on my arm, she’d encouraged me, once again, to be patient.
And I would. I’d wait forever for Elizabeth.
Bit by bit she opened up. Last night when I’d picked Lizzie up for our Friday night visit, Elizabeth hadn’t vocalized the invitation, but stood aside when she opened the door in silent permission that I’d accepted.
As much as I wanted to, though, I didn’t push it. At the end of the night, Lizzie and I said our goodbyes at the door.
I had no idea what to ask of Elizabeth or how far her forgiveness would go. But for now I rested satisfied in knowing I was doing something right on the way to gaining back her trust.
Every second she gave was precious.
I just wished the minutes away weren’t so lonely.
Hugging the small, square pillow to my chest, I sank deeper into the black leather of my couch. Restlessness nipped at my nerves as I flipped through channel after channel on the flat screen against the wall, the isolation reminding me again that I was living the wrong life. It was Saturday night. I should be with my family.
Sighing, I pointed the remote at the television and clicked it off, deciding to give up on the failed attempt to entertain myself. I tossed the pillow aside, stood, and stretched my arms overhead, yawning as I made my way to my bedroom. I shrugged out of my shirt, figuring a hot shower was my best shot at a soothing distraction.
From the other room my phone rumbled against the glass coffee table, buzzing before giving way to its shrill ring. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand.
Eight twenty-three.
I rushed back out to the main room, expecting it to be Mom calling to wish me a goodnight, although part of me hoped that it was Lizzie thinking of me. I pictured her sweet face pressed to her mother’s phone as she called just to say she loved me one more time before her mother tucked her into bed.
I grinned when I saw the caller ID.
Elizabeth’s name and number flashed on the screen as the phone vibrated and rang out again.
I grabbed it, sliding my finger across the faceplate just before it went to voicemail.
“Hey, sweetheart.” I could feel the force of my smile, thankful for the welcomed surprise.
“Christian . . .” I felt sick when I heard her voice, panicked and afraid.
“Elizabeth?” Immediately the panic in my voice matched hers. “What’s wrong?”
When she spoke, her voice trembled, and I could tell she was crying. “Lizzie fell down the stairs.”
Fear clawed up my spine, and I fought against the nausea rushing up my throat with the sick image that flashed through my mind. I was back in my room and dragging my shirt over my head before I had time to respond. “Is she okay?” I tried to remain calm and clearheaded, but I knew I was about five seconds from a breakdown. The thought of something happening to Lizzie—I’d never survive.
Elizabeth spoke in quiet distress, whispering, “I think she broke her arm and she has a cut above her eye . . . it won’t stop bleeding.” She stumbled over the last, choking on her worry, although her news instantly eased my racing nerves.
Lizzie’s injuries definitely didn’t sound as serious I’d first imagined them to be. I shoved my feet in my shoes and grabbed my keys from my desk.
I had started for the door when Elizabeth began fumbling over earnest words. “I tried to call Matthew, but he didn’t answer . . . and Lizzie won’t stop crying . . . and she keeps asking for you.” Her voice dropped as her unease increased. “Can you come? I don’t want to take her to the hospital by myself.” A brief moment of silence fell between us at her request. Her discomfort in asking for my help was clear, but the need of our daughter was so much greater than that.
My condo door slammed closed behind me as I hit the hall and rushed for the elevator.
“I’m already on my way.”
Traffic was heavier than I’d hoped, but I still made the short trip to Elizabeth’s house faster than I ever had. The neighborhood was already quiet when I turned onto their street. Children no longer played on the grassy lawns of their front yards or on the sidewalks. Instead windows glowed as families had taken their activities inside.
I jumped from my car, not bothering to pause to knock when I reached the door. I threw it open to find Lizzie on Elizabeth’s lap where they were huddled on the couch. Lizzie clutched her left arm protectively to her chest and whimpered while Elizabeth held a damp towel to her head.
“Lizzie,” I said as both worry and relief rushed out of me from where I stood in the doorway, still clutching the door handle. My heart ached to see her this way but was thankful it had not been so much worse.
“Daddy.” She sniffled but still managed to welcome me with a small smile.
I crossed the room, dropped to my knees in front of her, and brushed back the matted hair stuck to her face. “Oh, sweetheart, are you okay?” My gaze swept over her, ultimately landing on the towel slowly saturating with blood that Elizabeth had pressed to Lizzie’s forehead.
“My arm hurts.” She grimaced and hugged her arm closer, her bright eyes wet with tears. The sharp stabbing in my chest made me wonder if it were physically possible to feel someone else’s pain.
“I know, baby girl, I know.” I smiled sadly and then shifted so I could pick her up. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”
Lizzie’s eyes grew wide and she pulled away. For a moment, my heart fell with rejection before she shook her head stubbornly. “No, Daddy, I don’t like doctors.”
Oh.
I glanced at Elizabeth, her eyes pleading. Say something.
I scooted closer. I tried to ignore the fact that as I did so, I hovered over Elizabeth, her knees brushing against my chest with every unsteady breath I took.
Instead, I focused on what was important—reassuring my daughter.
“Did you know I used to be scared of the doctor when I was a little boy?” I asked, keeping my tone light in an effort to comfort Lizzie.
She looked surprised. “You were?”
“Yep,” I answered, nodding. “And do you know what I learned?”
She shook her head.
“That doctors want to help us feel better,” I said, hoping I
sounded convincing enough.
“But doctors give shots,” Lizzie said, pressing her lips together in defiance.
I suppressed a chuckle. Even in her distress, she was still the cutest thing I’d ever seen. I felt Elizabeth’s smile, and imagined she was thinking the same thing.
Reaching out, I cupped Lizzie’s face, running my thumb over her cheek. “Sometimes they do, but it’s only to help you feel better.”
Lizzie’s bottom lip trembled. “But I hate shots, Daddy.”
My expression softened in sympathy. This was the first time I’d really seen my daughter frightened, and while I wanted to take away all her fear, to be her hero and to promise her I’d never let anyone or anything hurt her, I couldn’t do that. I had to be honest with her.
“I know, Lizzie.” I leaned in further. “But if you have to get a shot, Mommy and I will be right there with you the whole time, okay?”
“Promise?” Lizzie whispered, still fearful, though I could feel her resistance fading.
“Promise.” That was a promise I could make.
“Okay, Daddy.”
Carefully, I took Lizzie into my arms and murmured how proud I was of her. Elizabeth looked up at me as she handed Lizzie over and mouthed, “Thank you.” Her lips moved slowly, cautiously. I knew it was hard for her to put this much trust in me, to place our injured daughter in my waiting arms. I nodded once as I met her eyes, wordlessly promising to never give her reason to regret it.
I carried Lizzie to the car where I strapped her into her booster seat, mindful of her injured arm. Elizabeth climbed into the backseat beside her, rattling off directions to the nearest ER. Within minutes, we walked through the doors and had Lizzie signed in.
We tucked ourselves in the farthest corner of the waiting room. I cradled Lizzie on my lap and Elizabeth sat down in the chair next to me, closer to me than she was probably comfortable with. Warily, we eyed the room overflowing with people sporting about every illness and injury we could imagine.
I blew out a loud sigh through my mouth.
The Regret Series Complete Collection Box Set: Lost to You, Take This Regret, and if Forever Comes Page 26