I watched her as my words sank in. Her irises widened and a tremor shook her body. “What?” The word fell as a small cry from her lips.
Exhaling some of the pressure in my chest, I focused on Lizzie, knowing I wouldn’t be strong enough to handle the disappointment on Elizabeth’s face while I described to her how I’d not only walked out on her once, but twice. “The night after Lizzie was born. I came to the hospital. I planned on apologizing to you, asking you to take me back.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and pressed on. “But Matthew was there . . . and I . . . left.”
I mustered enough courage to look at her, to watch her have her heart broken all over again. She turned from me and buried her face in her knees, her body convulsing as she tried to still her racking sobs. She jerked up, burning with anger, unable to speak, and then closed her eyes, tripped back into sadness.
“That’s how you knew about Matthew,” she said under her breath. She seemed disoriented as she tried to acclimate herself to this most dishonorable revelation.
I couldn’t stop now, even when I was certain my words would do more damage than good, but when I came back into this, I’d promised myself I would always be truthful with her. “That night I convinced myself I was doing the right thing . . . sacrificing for you so you could have a normal life with Matthew. I realize now it was just an excuse, Elizabeth. I walked away from my child because I thought I couldn’t have you. I never even knew if she was a boy or a girl.” This admission flowed like poison from my mouth, vile in its offense.
“I regretted it every day. I’d always expected to hear from you with a request for child support or . . . something. I waited, but none ever came.” No apology could ever rectify this wrong, but still I needed her to understand.
Elizabeth’s bottom lip quivered, and she shook her head, a clear dismissal of my reasoning. “That doesn’t make it any better, Christian.” She looked out upon Lizzie, and then leveled her eyes back on me. “Maybe it makes it worse. For so long I believed we never even crossed your mind, that the moment I’d walked out of your apartment we’d been forgotten, and to find out you . . . you waited for me to come to you,” she stressed the words. “It’s just . . . ” she said, at a loss for what to say as her voice trailed off.
“I thought you were happy.”
She sniffled and rocked herself. “How could you think that? Did you not believe that I loved you? That I wanted to spend my life with you?”
“Of course I knew you loved me.” My voice rose in frustration. “There’s nothing I can say that can make any sense of the decisions I made. Bottom line, I was a selfish asshole.” I splayed my hand through my hair, helpless, losing the grip I’d had on my control. I angled toward her, capturing her face with my eyes as I pled with her. “It doesn’t change anything, Elizabeth, but I truly am sorry. If I could, I’d take it back, right back to the moment I made you choose between me and our child. That was the worst decision I’ve ever made.”
She turned away and sat silent while she listened to my explanation, watching the waves race in against the sand, their constant ebb and flow but still steady progress as they claimed a stake further up the bank, just like us, the low necessary to reach the high.
I looked out at the horizon, unable to discern where the ocean met the sky, and settled into her quiet as I continued to speak. “My mother . . .” I felt her eyes fall on me. “She always pushed me to find you, told me I was wrong in staying away. I never believed her until I saw Lizzie in that store.” I looked at Elizabeth who was staring at me as my words turned to desperation. “She means everything to me, Elizabeth.”
You mean everything to me.
I didn’t say it aloud. She wasn’t ready to hear it yet.
Even under the weight of the conversation, I saw in her expression that she at least understood this, accepted that I adored Lizzie. That expression shifted as if something had just occurred to her, her words flowing with the quiet shock of her realization. “You left your father’s firm because of her.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to. I’d give up anything for my child.
Elizabeth glanced at Lizzie and then back at me. “I’m so sorry, Christian.”
“I’m not,” I said with complete conviction, because it was true. I couldn’t go on working for a man who would say such unfounded, disgusting words about Elizabeth and my child. I should have walked away six years ago.
She chuckled quietly, and I could tell by the softness that settled on her face that it was not at my expense, but in her own surprise with my actions. “You are a mystery, Christian Davison.”
I shook my head at her notion. “No, Elizabeth. I’ve just changed.”
She nodded almost imperceptibly, her lips parting as the idea seemed to penetrate her, her eyes setting in agreement. I hoped she believed that change was for the better.
Taking a collective breath, we turned our attention back to Lizzie and watched while she filled bucketfuls of sand with a small plastic shovel, tipped them over into towers that housed the captive of her fairy tales, her mouth moving without voice as she played out the scene unfolding in her head. It was as if we had called a time-out, a reprieve from the past, needing a moment to regain a measure of equilibrium before pressing forward.
Finally, I broached the topic I was sure neither of wanted to discuss. “Will you tell me about Matthew?”
She emitted a heavy breath, though didn’t seem surprised by my line of questioning. “Matthew.” She released an affectionate huff. “We tried so hard to fall in love. The first time I slept with him, I was four months pregnant with Lizzie.”
I flinched at her brutal honesty, but that’s exactly what the last six years had been—brutal.
Swallowing, she seemed to get lost in the memory. “I cried the whole time.” Her voice dropped in slow ruefulness. “Matthew was so good to me. He kissed away my tears and promised that it would be okay, that somehow we would make it work.”
She glanced at me askance, not meeting my face. I realized I was holding my breath. “But it was always forced. We loved each other, but not like that. The day after we got to San Diego, Natalie showed up at our doorstep to meet my new daughter and boyfriend, and it was like . . . like . . .” She looked up at me as if she were wondering if I could understand. “Like they could touch each other from across the room.”
“I let him go that night.” She laughed without humor and shook her head. “Of course he tried to refuse, adamant that Lizzie and I were his family, and he’d never leave us like that.” We cringed at the same time, cutting words that hadn’t been her intention. Her eyes flashed to mine. “I’m sorry, Christian, I didn’t mean—”
I shook my head, stopping her. “It’s okay, Elizabeth.” She shouldn’t apologize for my deficiencies. The truth was that I’d left her.
“Anyway,” she went on, “We talked the entire night, and we both decided if he stayed, we were only prolonging the inevitable. He packed a small bag and checked into a hotel down the street from my apartment. Within two weeks he had moved in with Natalie.” She sighed with a shrug. “When it didn’t hurt, I knew we’d made the right decision.” She looked at me with a grimace etched into her beautiful face. “All I felt was relief.”
I had no clue what to say—if I should say anything at all. All I knew was that I owed more gratitude to Matthew than I had ever imagined.
“But he continued to take care of you?” I inclined my head toward Lizzie while still holding her gaze, unwilling to break this free flow of trust.
She smiled, the warmth of her face the same as if it were directly focused on Matthew. “Yeah, he did everything he could for us. That first year after he and Natalie got together, I hated being a constant burden on him, so I tried to hide things from him.” From this came the first amount of regret I’d seen from Elizabeth when she talked of Matthew, and she shifted in discomfort. “All it did was cause him more worry, so we ended up becoming this strange little family that we are.”
R
unning a hand through my windblown hair, I deliberated for a second before I decided that since we’d finally found ourselves being so candid, I should take it as far as it would go.
“Was there ever anyone else?” I asked, worried I might not be able to stomach her answer.
She bit her bottom lip, shaking off what must have been an involuntary shudder. “There was this guy . . . Shawn.” She gulped for air. “He was an asshole.” She shook her head again and looked at me, almost pleading. “I really don’t want to talk about him.”
Now I felt like the asshole, but still I pushed. “Did you love him?”
“No,” she said, the word flying from her mouth before I could finish the sentence. From the look of disgust set deep at the core of her eyes, I knew she was speaking the truth. While I wanted to ask more about him, I could see that it was a shut door, one that needn’t be pried open by my jealousy.
“And Scott?” I asked, again feeling guilty for digging so deep, but unable to stop myself when I found myself so close to Elizabeth’s heart, to her soul that been laid bare, taking just a little more.
She appeared to be almost amused by my prodding, embracing me in the warmth of her small, knowing smile. “No, Christian. Last night was…” The levity from seconds before was replaced with total resolution and a tinge of remorse. “…a mistake.”
The relief that escaped me was audible, and I ducked my head, chuckling at just how obvious I was.
She nudged me with her elbow, the heat of her arm spurring a reaction in me that was becoming harder and harder to suppress. I hadn’t realized we’d gravitated to each other, our bodies now just inches apart. “So what about you?” It came out as almost a tease, though I could feel the pain simmering just below the surface.
I brought my face up to meet hers and saw the fear in the way her eyes, never at ease, skittered across my face, her sun-kissed skin blanching where she dug her nails into her legs.
“God, Elizabeth, do you really want to know?”
She averted her eyes, contemplative, before raising them back to mine and nodding.
“I think I do,” she said as she seemed to come to a resolution, her gaze becoming firm as she stared at me across the small space.
There was a moment that I considered lying to her, sparing her the obscene, especially in light of the divulgence of her not-so-scandalous past, but I just couldn’t bring myself to that type of dishonesty.
I searched for air and my voice. Finally, I just forced myself to speak. “That first year”—when you were pregnant and sick and needed me—“I tried to forget you.” I snorted in revulsion at the memory. “I slept with any girl who’d let me.”
Elizabeth whimpered and her eyes glistened, but she lifted her chin and waited for me to continue.
“Then after seeing you at the hospital . . . I just . . . I realized that who I’d become made me sick, and I couldn’t continue on that way.”
That brave chin quivered, but I didn’t stop. I just looked away and let the words bleed from my mouth, low and monotone. “I dated a little bit but pretty much filled my time with school. Then I met Brittany.” I felt Elizabeth tense at my side, heard the sharp intake of air. “We lived together for almost two years.”
I could sense that Elizabeth had begun to cry again, but I continued with my attention trained on the ground, wishing I could somehow find a way to bury my shame there. “She wanted to get married, and when I couldn’t make that commitment, she left me.”
While it had been sad to see my friend go, watching Brittany pack her things and leave had been so much like Elizabeth’s depiction of when Matthew had gone. The winning emotion had been one of intense relief.
“You didn’t love her?” Elizabeth choked as she squeezed the words out one by one.
“Yes . . . in a way. I mean, I cared for her. She was kind and sweet but . . .”
But just like she and Matthew, I never loved Brittany that way.
“But what?”
Without hesitation, I looked up to meet Elizabeth’s face, her cheeks wet and blotchy, and answered, “She wasn’t you.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, sending more tears racing down her beautiful face.
The hurt she wore broke me, and I couldn’t stand the distance any longer. “Elizabeth . . . ” I said so slowly, so softly as I reached out to cup her face to give her comfort for all the pain I had caused her, to show her how much I still loved her.
She winced with the contact and pulled away as her eyes fluttered open, leaving my hand suspended midair. “Don’t.” She shook her head and swallowed. “It’s too late for us, Christian.”
I didn’t miss the doubt that washed over her when she spoke those words, though she continued in delusive determination. “I can’t do this,” she said as she gestured rapidly between the two of us, squeezing her eyes shut again as if she didn’t believe it herself. When she opened her eyes again, she amended the motion to include Lizzie and an expectant smile displaced the despondent resignation of seconds before. “But I can do this . . . I want to do this.” She nodded vigorously, and her soggy smile spread, hopeful of my response.
I smiled slow, allowing it to smolder and then light with the joy that surged through my veins with her request, wishing nothing more than the freedom to kiss the sweetness of her wet mouth as it grew with reception. Instead, I captured the last tear that slid down her face and then wound my finger in the lock of hair matted on her cheek, giving it a slight tug of affection in anticipation of what I knew was to come.
Because while she spoke of forever, what I heard her say was she wasn’t ready yet.
I stood, dusted off the sand clinging to my shorts, and extended my hand out to her. “Come on, let’s go play and with our daughter.” She laughed and wiped her face with the back of her hand before reaching up to take it.
~
I had spent nearly the entire weekend with Lizzie and Elizabeth. The three of us had played on the beach until the sun finally dipped into the horizon and brought a chill to the air, and we’d ended the almost perfect day with dinner and ice cream cones. With Sunday morning had come a text inviting me to breakfast, a meal shared over a table of laughter and ease, one that seemed to shape a sort of truce between Matthew and me. While a vestige of his distrust still lingered, he seemed to slowly be warming to the idea of me being a part of Elizabeth and Lizzie’s lives.
I’d wished the weekend would never end, but unfortunately, Monday had come, and with it, the ball of nerves I currently found myself in. I straightened my tie, grabbed my briefcase, and took one last glance at myself in the mirror before walking out my front door and to the elevator. Looking for a position at another law firm had been the last thing I’d ever thought I’d have to do. I’d always believed that one day I’d be my father’s successor. Funny how things changed in the blink of an eye.
The elevator opened to the parking garage below and I rushed toward my car. Just as I opened the door, someone called out my name. “Christian Davison?” It was posed as a question.
I paused to look over my shoulder at the man in a baseball cap and jacket approaching from across the garage.
“Yes?”
With my confirmation, he pulled a thick envelope from his jacket. I closed my eyes in fruitless defense as his intent became clear.
I supposed this was inevitable, but I’d hoped that once, just once, family would come first.
I took the package without dispute and sank into my car, wondering how he could do this to me.
With a heavy heart, I ran my finger under the flap and freed its bond.
It was exactly as I’d expected.
My father was suing me.
~
I drove aimlessly around the city, passing time, trying not to focus on the envelope sitting on my passenger seat.
I couldn’t believe the man could be so cold. He was suing me for essentially everything, as if he’d tracked my every asset and every deficit—every venture and every loss. The only thing he hadn
’t accounted for was the money I’d socked away for Lizzie before I’d even known her name. At least that was hidden, protected from his greed.
Beyond that, my father hoped to wipe me out.
At five thirty, I pulled up to Elizabeth and Lizzie’s house unannounced and agitated, desperate for the solace that could only be found in them. I was hit by a staggering wave of relief when Elizabeth opened the door and, with an understanding smile, welcomed me inside.
As long as I had these two, I could take whatever else was thrown my way.
~
I pulled Lizzie’s blanket up tighter over her body, nuzzling my nose in her hair as I wished her a good night.
Elizabeth had already gone downstairs to give me a few minutes alone with our child.
Lizzie snuggled deeper into her pillow and murmured a tired, “Night, Daddy.” With a slow grin, she added, “Love you.”
Every time she said it, I felt like my heart would burst through my chest.
I pressed my lips to her forehead and whispered, “I love you, princess.” I stood and crossed the room, pausing at the doorway to take in a few more seconds of my precious daughter. Then I switched off the light and left the door cracked open the same way Elizabeth did.
As I crept downstairs, my heart picked up a notch, the way it always did when I knew I was going to be alone with Elizabeth.
Since our talk on the beach two months ago, I’d spent nearly every day with them. Each one had brought me closer to Lizzie, closer to Elizabeth, as our lives merged and slowly became one.
Being with them this way as a family brought me more joy than I’d ever believed possible. Not even the lawsuit looming in the distance could do anything to dampen my spirits.
But even with as close as we had grown, there was a part of herself that Elizabeth kept closed off. It was the part that was found in the tension that filled the room and fought for release each and every time we were alone.
She wanted me, I knew, but she wasn’t ready. I hadn’t pushed, though that was becoming harder and harder to do. I ached for her, a physical need that kept me awake through the long hours of the night and often woke me just as soon as I’d finally drift to sleep. My body craved attention, something it had gone so long without. The need she created in me had not gone unnoticed but remained unheeded, just as she continued to ignore her own desire.
The Regret Series Complete Collection Box Set: Lost to You, Take This Regret, and if Forever Comes Page 31