The Regret Series Complete Collection Box Set: Lost to You, Take This Regret, and if Forever Comes (31 page)

I nodded and repeated what I’d told her husband earlier. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Satisfaction spread across her face, and she extended her hand. Tentative, I reached out and shook it. “Well then, it’s nice to finally meet you, Christian Davison.”

She breezed across the lawn, leaving me shaking my head, baffled to find such an unlikely ally, but thankful nonetheless.

The party wound down and friends filtered out, saying their goodbyes and thank yous.

I lingered.

I didn’t want to say goodbye.

When the last of Lizzie’s guests had left and only Matthew and Natalie remained, I reluctantly stood and made my way across the lawn. Lizzie sat in the grass playing with the doll I had given her.

I crouched down to run my hand through her soft hair. “I have to go now, sweetheart.”

Lizzie saddened. “Already?” Apparently, she didn’t want me to say goodbye either.

Smiling, I settled down in the grass next to her, pulling her onto my lap and into my arms. I hugged her to me. “Yes, my angel, I have to go.”

She hugged me tighter, and from her mouth came a whispered plea. “Will you come back?”

I choked on her fear.

I pulled back, looking her in the eye. “Yes, Lizzie, I’ll be back. I promise.” Glancing up, I caught Elizabeth watching us from inside the kitchen window, her wounds prominent in the lines across her forehead. “I promise,” I said again as I buried my face against the side of Lizzie’s head.

I had to force myself to stand, to turn my back, and to leave my little girl sitting in the middle of her yard. My feet were heavy as they entered the kitchen of the small house. My steps faltered when I came upon Elizabeth.

She stood with her back to me. Her hands were flat against the kitchen counter and her breathing was audible as she stared out at Lizzie through the window.

“Thank you, Elizabeth,” I whispered.

She whimpered, her voice a quiet rasp. “Please, don’t hurt her.”

All the air left me.

“I won’t.”
Never
.

Her body trembled as a quiet sob escaped. “What do you want, Christian?”

What did I want?

To make her smile, to wipe away her tears, to hold her.

To be a father, a real father, not one in title, but one who’d earned that right.

I wanted to stay.

“I want my family,” I forced through the lump in my throat.

Elizabeth went rigid, her hands digging into the counter for support, her words sharp. “Get out of my house.”

I swallowed down my pain, the fear that I might never receive forgiveness, and nodded. “Okay,” I said quietly as I turned to leave. I hesitated in the archway, looking back over my shoulder. “But I’m coming back.”

Chapter Eight

Friday had always been a day I looked forward to, filled with anticipation for the weekend ahead and excitement for time spent with my daughter. Now it was a day of dread.

I glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. Only fifteen more minutes.

Plunging my hands into the soapy water, I tried to focus on the task in front of me instead of how much I hated this, but a mindless job like washing dishes wasn’t enough to cover up the ache in my heart.

Sharing my daughter was torture.

The day after Lizzie’s birthday, Christian had called at seven fifteen just as he had every night the week before and every day since. He’d asked to speak to me after telling Lizzie goodbye. He wanted to know when he could see her next, and more specifically, he wanted a day of his own.

The man had the audacity to ask me for Saturdays. Saturdays were
mine
, a day without interruption for my daughter and me, just the two of us. There was no way I’d concede to that.

Instead, I’d given him Friday evenings.

So for the last two months, Christian had shown up at my doorstep every Friday at six to pick Lizzie up and had dropped her off at the same place at eight.

He had two hours. To me, even that was too much. He deserved no time at all.

The worst part of it was how much Lizzie always looked forward to those nights with Christian, how excited she would become as she watched the clock near six. She never questioned whether he would show or not; she expected him to, trusted him to.

And I was left waiting on the sidelines to pick up the pieces
when
he didn’t.

It sucked.

I loaded the dishwasher and wiped down the counters, preparing myself to face Christian. Just those few minutes at my stoop exchanging “our” daughter were excruciating.

Two minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Taking a deep breath, I dried my hands and tossed the hand towel aside, wending my way to the front door. Glancing through the peephole, I unlocked the door and swung it wide to Lizzie and Christian standing on the stoop.

“Hi, Mommy.” Lizzie grinned up at me, her hair in pigtails and her eyes alive. She clutched her doll to her side, that outrageous toy that must have cost a fortune, the one she never went anywhere without.

“Hi, sweetheart.” I smiled down at her, refusing to begrudge the joy my daughter found in her father. “Did you have a good time?”

She glanced back at Christian and smiled wide before looking back at me and nodding. “Yep. Daddy took me to the park and we had a picnic.”

I covered my grimace and forced out, “That sounds like fun, honey.” My eyes flitted to Christian. His hands were stuffed deep in the pockets of his slacks, his tie discarded, the first two buttons of his white dress shirt undone. His hair that had been styled when he’d shown up at my house earlier was now in disarray, locks of hair obscuring the vibrant blue of one of his eyes.

He was gorgeous. And I hated him for it.

I turned my attention back to Lizzie, gesturing to her father with my head. “It’s time to tell your dad goodnight, Lizzie.”

Her face fell along with my heart. It was agonizing, watching her tell Christian goodbye, how she clung to him, their whispered words of love and promises of how they would miss each other until they saw each other again.

Christian kissed her on the head once more before releasing his hold on her and nudging her toward the door. “Goodnight, my princess.”

“Night, Daddy.”

I closed my eyes, wishing I didn’t have to witness this. “Lizzie, go on upstairs. I’ll be there in a minute to get your bath started.”

“Okay, Momma.” Lizzie mounted the stairs as Christian and I watched her go, and then I slowly turned back to him. This part always felt so awkward, especially in light of the declaration he’d made on Lizzie’s birthday. I’d known what he meant, his intention.

He wanted me back.

I had spent a fleeting moment fantasizing about being in his arms again before my rational side had screamed at me for being a fool, and I had demanded that he leave my house. He’d never stepped inside since.

“Goodnight, Christian.” In his case, I’d given myself over to feigned pleasantries.

He stared at his feet before looking back at me as he ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit of his I hadn’t forgotten. “Listen, Elizabeth . . .”

I braced myself. This was it. My mind raced with what I would tell my daughter, how I would comfort her.

He scratched the back of his head, shuffling his feet, before he grimaced and said in a rushed voice, “I need a favor.”

I scowled, sitting back on my heels and crossing my arms. He wasn’t leaving. He was asking for more.
Damn him
.

“What?”

He released a heavy breath from his nose, his expression hopeful. “My mother is coming into town next weekend, and I was hoping we could take Lizzie to Sea World on Saturday?”

I shook my head. “You know Saturday is my day with Lizzie, Christian. Why can’t you take her during the week?” As if I would make concessions for his mother, that shallow, pretentious woman who’d done no more than look down her nose at me. And God knew Christian could afford to take the day off.

“Because my mom isn’t getting in until late Friday night, and she has to leave Sunday to get back to work. It’s the only day we can go,” he explained as if it made complete sense where it made none.

That woman had never worked a day in her life. I didn’t realize I was frowning in confusion until Christian spoke.

“Yes, Elizabeth, my mother works,” he said, sounding mildly irritated. “She and my father divorced five years ago.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised. The question had escaped me before I could reel it in.
I don’t care about him or what his family does
, I reminded myself. But really, I was a little curious. Claire
Davison working? The woman who put on airs, who walked around as if her social life were the most important thing in the world? The thought was comical.

Christian chuckled, his eyes glinting amusement. “Shocking, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Why I answered, I didn’t know.

His voice softened. “She’s not who you think she is, Elizabeth.”

I shook my head, wishing to divert the line of conversation that drew me into his personal life, getting back to what mattered—the precious time I had to spend with my daughter. “Saturdays are mine, Christian.” The words were soft, but firm.

He sighed and for a moment looked away before his eyes darted back at me, determined. “Come with us.”

What? I couldn’t imagine anything as tortuous as spending an entire day with him and his mother.

He took a step forward, dipping his head to capture my gaze. “Please, Elizabeth.” My heart sped with his nearness, the warmth of his presence washing over my face and through my chest to where it settled somewhere in the pit of my stomach.

Dangerous
.

“Um . . . I . . .” I fumbled over the words, searching for an excuse.

“Please, Elizabeth. Just one day.” His voice dropped lower as he begged, “Please . . . come.”

The intensity of his eyes shattered my resolve. “Fine.”

Gratitude filled his face, his mouth quirking into a small, satisfied smile. “Thank you.” His face was so beautiful and appeared so sincere. I wished I could believe it.

In an attempt to resurrect the wall between us, I stepped back and away from the claws that I felt him slowly, steadily sinking into my skin. I whispered, “Just this once.”

His smile didn’t falter. “Okay then, I’ll pick you two up at nine next Saturday.”

Pursing my lips, I nodded once before I shut the door and shut him out.

I turned to find Lizzie’s face pressed through two bars of railing at the top of the stairs, her smile unending. Closing my eyes, I shook my head, wondering what I had just done.

~

Lizzie sat on her knees in a pink t-shirt and denim shorts, her feet in white sandals, watching out the front window. Her small backpack was secured over her shoulders, her doll secured in the crook of her arm. She had been there for almost a half an hour, and it wasn’t even eight thirty yet.

She’d woken me before dawn by jumping on my bed, yelling in excitement for me to get up. I’d buried my face deeper in my pillow, loathe to face the day.

Christian had picked her up yesterday evening at six just the same as always, only this time Lizzie accompanied him to the airport so she could meet her
Grammy
. That’s what Lizzie had called her. She went on about the woman for more than an hour after Christian had dropped her off at my door well after nine thirty last night.

Grammy.

The woman who had never shown any interest in Lizzie, had never called, had never once tried to contact us.

Grammy.

It was enough to make me see red.

Dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, I stepped into a pair of flip-flops and pulled my hair into a messy ponytail, then stuffed a towel, sunscreen, and sweatshirts into my backpack. Lizzie
loved Sea World, and we’d been enough times to know she’d get wet and cold.

“All ready, Mommy?” Lizzie looked back at me from where she was perched on the floor, her small body buzzing with anticipation.

I forced myself to smile back. “Yes, baby. I’m all ready.” As much as I dreaded this day, I would never let Lizzie know it.

I flitted around the house, straightening up in an attempt to thwart the panic setting in.
How will I get through a day with Christian . . . and his mother?
She’d always disliked me. The few times we’d met, she’d never said much, offering no more than a cool hello, though her calculating eyes had watched. I could only assume the horrible things she thought about me, things Christian’s father had never hesitated to say aloud.
Gold Digger
, Richard had called me, and she’d never disagreed. It had hurt. The only thing I’d ever wanted from Christian was his love, his commitment, but never his money.

Jumping up, Lizzie squealed, “Daddy’s here!” She struggled to reach the lock, unlatching it just as the doorbell rang. She threw herself into Christian’s open arms and he scooped her up.

“Good morning, baby girl.” He looked over her shoulder at me as he hugged her close. “Good morning, Elizabeth.”

“Good morning,” I mumbled as I grabbed my backpack and purse and headed toward the door. Christian put Lizzie back on her feet and took her hand.

I swallowed hard, feeling my face heat with my thoughts.

I swore he was doing it on purpose, the way he wore his black t-shirt taut over the obvious definition of his chest and stomach, his dark jeans slung low on his hips. Forcing my eyes closed, I fought to remember what I felt when I’d left his apartment that final time, what he had said, opening them to
remember why I hated this man. I squared my shoulders and strode toward the door with my resolve firmly set in place.

As Christian and Lizzie walked hand-in-hand down the sidewalk, I locked the door, bracing myself for the anger I knew would come when I came face-to-face with Christian’s mother.

I took the ten steps down the sidewalk and froze when I rounded the corner to the driveway. Claire stood in front of Christian’s car with Lizzie in her arms, her face buried in Lizzie’s neck. Claire looked up, tears glistening in her eyes, a mixture of joy and pain on her face.

Instantly, a lump formed in my throat. How could she hold my daughter like that after she’d rejected her all these years? I didn’t understand this, any of it—Christian, his mother, how
I
felt, the sympathy that surged through me when I saw Claire’s face. I didn’t want to care.