Authors: A. L. Jackson
Christian led us through the throng of people waiting for tables and to the podium, announcing our arrival and name for the reservation. The hostess weaved through the tables to the far corner of the restaurant, seating us at a booth.
I laughed and dropped my mouth in mock offense when Lizzie once again crawled up next to her father. “How come you never want to sit by Mommy anymore?” I teased. Lizzie clung to his upper arm, laid her head on his shoulder, squeezed as she
giggled, and said, “Cuz Daddy doesn’t always get to sleep at my house.”
Christian smirked, threw me a mischievous look that said
that would be easy to fix
.
Instead of cringing and cursing my heart, I rolled my eyes and laughed to let him know I knew exactly what he was thinking. I surprised myself with the action, but I was feeling free, swept away by the atmosphere and the roaring energy of the room.
He grinned as he opened his menu and muttered something under his breath. His smile was evident even as he buried his face in the menu. My smile matched his, wide and unrestrained.
It was my birthday, and just tonight, I was going to allow myself to enjoy this, to enjoy my family, as unconventional as it was. Christian ordered me a birthday drink, a huge concoction of rum and chocolate and whipped cream, and didn’t hesitate to dip his finger in it to steal a taste. We ordered burgers and fries, drank and ate as we talked and teased. We laughed until we cried when a clown stopped by to make us balloon hats. All of the tension was gone, for a few precious moments our past forgotten.
Sated and appeased, Christian leaned easily against the booth with his arm slung around our daughter’s shoulders, his burger polished off.
Happy.
Blue eyes danced with merriment as he announced, “Present time.”
Lizzie bounced and clapped her hands. “Ooo, Momma, open mine first!”
Christian produced a small box he’d kept hidden from somewhere beneath the table. It was square and shallow,
covered in shiny red paper bunched and uneven with a crooked silver bow—
perfect—
wrapped with great care by little hands. I released a small, surprised giggle of appreciation and wondered when the last time I’d felt so loved. “When did you have time for all of this?” I held the small gift near my ear and gently shook the tiny box.
Christian shrugged, smiled wide. “I took the afternoon off to take Lizzie shopping and to get ready.” He nudged her and they shared a knowing smile, thick as thieves. “I called Natalie last night to let her know I was picking Lizzie up from school today.”
I hoped my expression was enough to portray how much this meant to me, that he would take the time to help our daughter do something that was so obviously important to her, that he took time for me.
“Mommy, open it!” Lizzie prodded.
I smiled, shook it again, and drew the words out as I said, “I
wonder
what this could be?” I figured she must have picked out a piece of jewelry.
Slowly, I pulled away the bow and ribbon and ran my finger under the paper to loosen the tape. I felt my chest flutter when I realized the box was black velvet, its contents real, and I worried that it had probably cost too much.
Then I lifted the lid to the sweetest gift I’d ever received.
The white-gold charm bracelet was a rod and ball type, simple
and
beautiful, and made me feel incredibly special.
“Do you like it, Momma?”
I glanced up at Lizzie who was on her knees, eager for my reaction, and answered in complete honesty. “I love it.”
I traced a finger over it, unhooked its snap from the box, and held it up in the air over the table. Three silver bead charms slid to the bottom, one with an emerald for Lizzie’s birthday, one
with a yellow topaz for mine, and another simply engraved with Mother.
Christian leaned over the table and reached out. “May I?”
Smiling, I nodded and passed it to him. I stretched my arm across the table and couldn’t ignore the tingles that spread out over my skin as Christian’s fingers worked the bracelet around my wrist and screwed the locking clasp in place. He twisted it, wet his lips in concentration as he did, and then glanced up at me and then back down to finish his work.
He murmured, “You know you can add to this, right?” He ran the tip of his forefinger down the sensitive skin of my wrist.
It sounded nothing like a question but an invitation.
My face reddened, but I refused to look away.
Lizzie gushed as she nearly climbed on top of the table to admire the bracelet now dangling from my wrist. “Oh, it’s so pretty!” My sweet child looked up for my approval, hoping to find I liked it as much as she wanted me to. Fingering the charms, I smiled back her, told her again how beautiful I thought it was and that I would wear it with pride.
“My turn.” Christian produced an envelope, larger than a normal card. It was thick and rectangular and it spiked my nerves with the way it shook in his trembling hand.
“Happy birthday, Elizabeth,” he said with the softest of smiles.
I returned an uncertain smile, hesitated as I held the card between us, and realized I didn’t want to be scared.
Just for one night, I didn’t want to be scared.
So I ripped it open. At first I was confused as I looked at the brochure and reservation slip in my hand, until my mind finally came to recognition.
When I snapped my head up in surprise, I found Christian’s eyes burning into mine. His words came more hopeful than any I’d ever known, impassioned as they passed through his lips, “Come to New York for Christmas with me, just you and Lizzie. I . . . I want her to see the tree . . . to show her where she was born . . . where we met.”
In his expectation, I lost all reason and threw all sanity aside because I actually
wanted
to go. I pretended I didn’t know what Christian meant when he asked me to go to New York
with
him, lied to myself again, and assured myself anew that nothing had changed.
Because by the look on Christian’s face when I released the breath I’d been holding and nodded that I would go, I
knew
everything had changed.
For a few moments, a new heaviness hung in the air, a new fear vying for my attention, imploring with me to pay it heed.
I pushed it aside and laughed through my embarrassment as our server suddenly appeared at the edge of our table and shouted over the clamor of the room, demanding attention as he called out, “We have a birthday in the house!”
Christian’s eyes glinted with deep satisfaction as he sang me the birthday song along with the rest of the restaurant. He seemed to make his own wish when I blew out the single candle stuck in a massive piece of chocolate cake.
“So how does it feel to be twenty-eight, Ms. Ayers?” All teasing from earlier aside, Christian’s eyes softened as he asked.
Like you missed too many years
, I thought much too quickly, before I had the time to dismiss its meaning.
Before I answered, I glanced at Lizzie, my reason for living, and back at the man who had somehow snaked his way back into my life and had become such an important part of my
family. I realized in all honesty that it felt amazing. For the first time in many years, I was truly happy. Even if being with him took great restraint, at times tore me apart and turned me inside out, it was worth every second. I swallowed and answered, “It feels . . . really . . . great.”
Christian grinned and touched the tip of his shoe to mine under the table, a gentle caress, chaste affection.
I blushed, flicked the bangs from my face, a subconscious tic, and knocked my balloon hat from my head.
Squinting, Christian suddenly leaned forward as he tilted his head to one side. “How’d you get that scar above your eye, anyway?”
He reached across the table to brush my bangs aside, and instinctively, I jerked away. I shook my head and forced out a feeble, “It’s nothing.”
Christian frowned and slowly withdrew his hand with my reaction.
“Shawn was mean to Mommy.”
Christian’s head whipped in Lizzie’s direction as she spoke the words, before fiery eyes darted back to me. I watched as a storm raced in, violent and destructive. And just like that, the peace of our evening was gone, leaving in its place a Christian I’d never seen, a Christian I didn’t know.
He put distance between himself and Lizzie, sitting rigid in the booth and saying nothing as he paid the bill. He wouldn’t look my way, not even when I whispered, “Thank you for dinner.”
He just stood and ushered Lizzie from the bench, never looked up from the ground as he walked behind us out to the car.
It took only seconds for Lizzie to fall asleep in the backseat of his car. Christian stared ahead and left me alone to
suffocate in his seething silence. He said nothing as he rose from the car and collected our slumbering daughter from his backseat. He stood aside and waited for me to unlock the front door and took her up to her room.
I waited at the bottom of the stairs to give him space.
I understood he was angry, not with me, but with Shawn.
Minutes later, he emerged from Lizzie’s room and stared down at me with raging torment.
Something inside him had fractured—ruptured.
“Christian . . . ” I called out, my tone quiet, pleading for him not to make a big deal of this. It was something I’d not wanted to delve into with him. I had no desire to resurrect old ghosts and had been thankful to have dodged the subject when Christian had asked about Shawn at the beach. What happened with Shawn was long over and done with, something I’d dealt with emotionally, had come to terms with, and had vowed to never repeat.
Unable to escape from the intensity of Christian’s gaze as he slowly took the stairs, I knew there was no way to evade it now.
On the last step, he stopped inches from me and clenched his fists. “Shawn
who
?”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.”
Over.
Done.
Forgotten.
Christian studied his feet, palmed the back of his neck, pushed past me, and paced my living room. Coming to an abrupt halt, he turned and glared at me. “It doesn’t matter?” His voice rose. “It doesn’t fucking matter? Are you
kidding
me, Elizabeth?” He flung his arm out in a wild gesture at my head.
I didn’t cower, didn’t flinch. I knew none of the fury flooding from him was directed at me.
This time he begged, wanted me to agree, “That asshole hurt you, and it
doesn’t
matter?” He turned away, buried both hands in his hair, and hid his head as he released his torment toward the floor. “I can’t believe I let this happen to you.”
Taking a step forward, I placed a cautious hand against his back and pressed my palm into the warmth of his body. Tremors rolled through his muscles with the contact, and my explanation came in hushed tones and filled the otherwise dark, silent room. “It doesn’t matter because I’ve healed, Christian. He means nothing to me,
meant
nothing to me, and he paid the price for what he did. The only part that hurts me now is dealing with the fact that my daughter had to witness it.”
Christian’s shoulders slumped further, Lizzie’s involvement another blow. Defeated, he choked over more guilty words, “I’m so sorry, Elizabeth.”
I caressed his back, ran my hand up his spine, and twisted my fingers in the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. “You can’t blame yourself for everything that happened while you were away.”
He looked at me over his shoulder. His beautiful face was illuminated by the light on the stairs and contorted in what could only be physical pain. “How can I not?”
I turned him and wrapped my arms around his neck.
He exhaled his burden, groaning from somewhere deep within his chest when he wound a single arm around my waist and tugged me flush against his body. With the other hand, he brushed away my bangs, tucked the heavy lock of hair behind my ear, and ran his thumb over the long healed scar.
My heart thrashed, protested its chains, loosened its binds.
Dropping his hand from my face, he brought it to my hip and dug in his fingers to draw me closer. He massaged his way up my back and to my neck and buried his hand in my hair.
Held me.
Rocked me.
Loved me.
The clock against the wall chimed midnight.
Christian pressed his heated cheek to mine and whispered, “Happy birthday, Elizabeth.”
~
Lizzie posed in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom. She slicked bright red lipstick across her lips, smearing more of it around her mouth and over her teeth than on her lips, and teetered in a pair of four-inch heels three times too big for her tiny feet.
I laughed under my breath from where I watched her out of the corner of my eye and wondered where I’d left my camera.
“Look at me, Mommy. Don’t I look pretty?” She spun in place, twirling the old red skirt I’d discarded on the floor as I’d dug through my closet for something to wear.
Crossing the room, I took both of her hands, whirled her around, and dipped her in an old-fashioned, impromptu dance. “You look absolutely gorgeous, darling.” Then I tickled her and kissed her solidly on the cheek.
She howled with laughter, her face red from both the lipstick and her surprise. She sobered, reached out, and touched my cheek as she searched my face with observant eyes.
“You look really pretty too, Mommy,” she said in quiet assurance, surely having noticed my nerves as I’d hunted through my clothes, tossing aside the modest outfits I typically wore to work for something Natalie and my sisters would find appropriate for the night.
I’d settled on a too short, black tiered skirt, coupled it with a white ruffled blouse that showed just a bit too much cleavage and, of course, a pair of much too high black heels. Even though it made me a bit self-conscious, I didn’t even bother to dress in something more conservative.
Natalie would have just marched me straight back upstairs to change.
Before I could thank Lizzie, the doorbell rang, and she wriggled from my arms and bolted out the door and down the stairs.
Christian.