Authors: A. L. Jackson
A tremor of apprehension rolled through me, flared and balled in my stomach as I heard his voice drift up from below.
Sleep had evaded me for most of last night. I’d chased it, only to drift to the edges of unconsciousness to find myself back in his arms, surrounded by his presence, begging for his touch. Panic would bring me back, jolting me up in bed, leaving me gasping for air as blood pounded through my veins.
Those immeasurable minutes spent in Christian’s arms had felt so good,
so right
, like peace and eternity, made me feel as if I would choose to stay.
When the solace offered in my arms had shifted, we’d both felt it—when it’d become
more
—when the heat of his body had washed over me in waves, hot and hard, nearly drowning me in his desire.
I wouldn’t have had the strength to say no.
It had only taken him untangling himself from my hold and forcing himself out my front door for me to slip back into fear, to question what I’d done—what I’d agreed to.
In six weeks, I was supposed to go to New York with Christian, and I had no idea what that meant, what he expected, or what I could give.
I shook my head, smoothed out my shirt, and adjusted my skirt, wishing not everything had to be so complicated. I wished that I didn’t have so much hurt buried inside, so many deep-seated fears. I wished I could trust in him and believe that this time he wouldn’t let me down.
Most of all, I just wished to give up and give in.
God, I wanted to give in.
I clutched the railing for support at the top of the stairs as I looked down over my living room where Christian gazed up at me, hugging our daughter in his arms.
He was in dark low-slung jeans and a black T-shirt, his hair unruly, his eyes intense. It was as if the moment our eyes connected our bodies picked up right where we’d left off last night. The energy was dense, swirling with need and dripping with want. It rained down, sucked us in, and urged me forward.
Christian settled Lizzie onto the couch so she was facing the television, not in neglect, but as if this were something she could take no part in, the moment too intimate, not to be shared.
As I edged down the stairs, I watched him as he watched me, didn’t shy from the touch of his gaze, but welcomed it as it traveled down, kissed my body and caressed my legs.
His lips parted, tacit desire calling my name.
I stopped a foot away.
He hesitated and swallowed deeply before he finally took a step forward, assailing my senses as he placed a heated palm against my cheek. With the pad of his thumb, he caressed my jaw.
I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch as the sweet of his breath washed over my face. I waited, wanting more than I should.
His movements were tentative as he slanted forward and brushed his nose along the opposite cheek. He ran it to my ear
and whispered, “You are so beautiful.” His words sent a thrill rushing over my skin. He ghosted his lips over the same line and pressed his mouth against my jaw.
I gasped and clutched his shoulders for support, unprepared for the onslaught of emotion—for the ache.
For the first time, I was completely defenseless, subject to Christian’s mercy.
Somewhere inside me, I knew he would hurt me. Once again, he’d stolen my heart and held in his hand. He had taken control and I didn’t know how to get it back.
I recognized it in the panic I felt when he pulled away, in the way my nails burrowed into the skin of his shoulders and begged him,
Don’t let me go
.
Christian dropped his arm completely and stepped away. A low, “Ahem,” made me turn my attention to a red-faced Matthew standing frozen in my doorway. He looked down and cringed over an apology.
Natalie popped up on her tiptoes, peeking over Matthew’s shoulder to find what it was that had caused her husband to stumble to a standstill.
Chapter Fifteen
I didn’t want to let go—ever.
Elizabeth’s fingers burned into my skin and anchored in my soul.
Did she understand how much I cherished her? As I pressed my mouth to her jaw and held her face, did she know that I was praising the goodness of her heart and her ability to forgive, and that I fell in love with her more and more each day?
It took everything I had to pull away, to step back, but I knew where we were heading, and the last thing I wanted was an audience for the first kiss Elizabeth and I had shared in six years.
Elizabeth was so wrapped up in the moment, I’m sure she hadn’t even realized Matthew and Natalie were standing in her doorway with their mouths gaping.
Spreading a frustrated hand through my hair, I looked to the opposite wall, hoping to quiet my thundering heart, to quell the roar screaming through my veins, demanding Elizabeth.
When I looked back, Matthew remained frozen in the doorway and appeared to be studying Elizabeth. Natalie broke
through the tension, pushed under her husband’s arm, and entered the room to embrace Elizabeth as if she hadn’t just walked in on one of the most pivotal moments of our lives. “Happy birthday, Liz. You ready to go?”
I watched as Elizabeth nodded and returned Natalie’s hug, before she gathered her purse and black sweater from the entryway table. She looked back at me warily. Once again, the two of us were propelled back into the unknown, unsure of where we stood.
I offered her a gentle smile, one that I hoped told her I understood, that I was scared too, but that I was finished wasting time—done wasting nights without those I loved.
I’d boarded the flight from my father’s funeral with a newfound resolve, an unvoiced pledge to my daughter and to Elizabeth that I would finally make this right.
It was time to take back my family.
Natalie approached with a knowing smile, wrapped an arm around my waist, and grinned up at me. Draping an arm around her shoulder, I hugged her to my side and smiled down at the girl who had become my friend, my confidant, the one who seemed to
get
both Elizabeth and me. I dropped my arm from her shoulder to shake Matthew’s hand. His grip was firm but lacked any animosity. His eyes darted to Elizabeth before they rested on me as he shook my hand. It was clear he knew exactly what had been taking place between Elizabeth and me when he’d walked through the door. He squeezed once before he dropped my hand and nodded almost imperceptibly, seeming to be giving me both a blessing and a warning—a statement that he wouldn’t stand in our way, but it was also clear where his loyalties rested.
His protectiveness didn’t bother me because my loyalties were in the very same place. I met his eyes with a nod.
Natalie and Matthew smothered Lizzie in love and goodbyes, made her giggle as they teased her, telling her to make sure she took good care of her daddy while they were away.
Elizabeth took Lizzie in her arms, hugged her close, ran a tender hand through our daughter’s hair. “Have a great time with Daddy.”
Elizabeth seemed uncertain when she stood and turned to me. Vacillating emotions flickered across her face—need and love and too much fear. I’d recognized it in her touch when I’d stepped away, the fear that was rooted deep and clung to her like a disease.
I’d spend my life driving it out.
Extending my hand, I reached for her, pulled her to my chest, and murmured against her ear, “I’ll be waiting.”
Reticent, I released her hand with a heavy breath and watched as the three of them filed out the front door. I prayed they’d be safe, counted on Matthew to bring my girl home safely to me, refusing myself the sudden surge of possessiveness I felt when I realized I wouldn’t be the one there to witness her on the dance floor with her friends or there to celebrate her birthday. It was shocking how badly I craved to be the man on her arm. But the last thing I had the right to was jealousy, so I forced those thoughts away and glanced at Lizzie who studied me with an astute curiosity from where she leaned over the back of the couch.
I smiled at my precious daughter. “Guess it’s just you and me tonight, Lizzie.”
Lizzie trailed me into the kitchen and helped prepare our dinner, a box of pasta, white sauce, and fresh cut broccoli florets. She grinned at me from across the table as we ate our simple meal. Affection swelled as I shared the evening with my sweet, sweet girl. I listened to her simple words, so honest and pure,
and thanked God for grace because I knew there was nothing I’d done to deserve the sublime. Lizzie asked about New York—what it would be like and what we would see. Then in a quiet voice she asked, “Will you hold my hand on the plane? I’m kinda scared, Daddy. I’ve never been on a plane before.” I smiled at my daughter, brushed a hand through her bangs, and answered, “Only if you hold mine.”
After dinner, I helped her into her sweater and we stepped out into the crisp evening air. Hand-in-hand, we followed the sidewalk to the small park at the end of the street. I pushed her high on the swings, chased her over the grassy hills, relished in her laughter as I caught her at the bottom of the slide. My spirit danced as we played, rejoiced in this gift, my heart forever devoted to this precious child.
When Lizzie began to shiver, we returned home and went upstairs where I bathed her in her mother’s alcoved bathroom. I filled the tub with bubbles and her small bathtub toys and didn’t mind when her rambunctious play soaked my shirt. I let her splash and dunk until her fingers had shriveled and the water had turned cool.
“Come here, sweetheart,” I gently prompted, helped her safely from the tub, and wrapped her in a huge, fluffy white towel. I ran it over her damp skin and dried her hair, wondering how I’d become so favored that in less than a year, my life had gone from completely empty to overflowing.
“I love you so much, Daddy,” she professed as she peeked up at me through the towel wrapped around her head and body as I carried her to her room.
Leaning down, I kissed her forehead and pressed her to my chest. “I love you more than anything, Lizzie.”
Keen eyes probed my face as she whispered, “But you love Mommy, too.”
My feet faltered, frozen, amazed at my young daughter’s poignant perception, far from oblivious, always aware.
I should have known she would have noticed the change between Elizabeth and me in the last week, the newfound affection, the embraces, our timid touches.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nodded and met her hopeful gaze. “Yes, Lizzie . . . I . . . I love your mother very much.”
I’d never spoken it aloud to Lizzie before, afraid of getting her hopes up, worried Elizabeth and I would never reconcile, and that we’d go on as partners in Lizzie’s parenthood—
friends
as Elizabeth had somehow considered us.
Even if Elizabeth had claimed it, she should have known there was no chance that we could just remain friends.
She was mine, had always been, and I’d always been hers. Despite what I’d done, the wounds I’d inflicted, she had always been mine. When I’d lain with other women and she with other men, our hearts had been tied, our bond one that neither of us could ever escape.
I think I’d known all along that one day we would be together again, and as my mother had said, it would just take time and patience. When Elizabeth had realized it, I wasn’t quite sure. Maybe she’d realized it somewhere along the way as we’d shared our daughter, as she’d taught me how to be a father and what loyalty and commitment really meant. Maybe she’d felt it when my father died and her heart had bled so freely for me or perhaps in the embrace she’d met me with on my return—certainly by the time she’d kissed me that same night.
It’d taken every ounce of resolve for me to lie still, to keep from tugging her body against mine, to pretend that I remained asleep, to pretend that the warmth of her fingers hadn’t brought
me to consciousness, to pretend that I hadn’t felt her mouth upon mine.
I’d been strong enough to give her that moment and allow her the space to deal with the emotions that could no longer be contained. I’d listened to her cry in the room above me as I tasted the salt of her tears on my lips, silently promising her again and again that one day I would erase that pain.
I tucked Lizzie into her bed, smoothed her damp hair from her face, and told her again that I loved her.
Yawning, she snuggled down in her covers as I pulled them to her chin and murmured, “Night, Daddy. See you in the morning.” The idea of her proclaiming that each night made me dizzy with joy.
“Sleep well, Lizzie.”
At her door, I watched as she drifted off to sleep before I flipped off the light. I left her door ajar and walked downstairs. I glanced at the clock on the microwave as I grabbed a bottle of beer from the refrigerator.
Only ten o’clock.
Patience
.
I’d waited for months—for years, really—I could wait a few more hours.
I slid the back door open, left it open a crack in case Lizzie woke, and dragged a chair to the edge of the patio. I leaned back to look up at the night sky that was a jaundiced haze with the glow of lights and tipped my beer to my mouth as I listened to the hum of the city—dogs barking at passersby, the whirr of the highway a few miles off, an ambulance blaring in the distance.
I wondered what Elizabeth was doing, hoped she was safe, and wished she were home.
I thought of the scar above her eye, the one that had twisted me in knots last night, made me sick with rage and
starved for vengeance before her words from months ago had come to mind.
Nobody has ever hurt me as badly as you hurt me, Christian. No one
.
Never had I hated myself more than then, knowing I had scarred her deeper than the disfigured evidence of abuse on her skin.
But somehow, her heart went deeper than that, deeper than my betrayal, and she had
comforted
me.
Breathing in the damp air, I drained my beer, stood, and went inside to get another.
Only eleven.
I dropped onto the couch, turned on the television, flipped through channels, and listened to a newscaster drone on. I sipped from my bottle, letting it ebb at my restlessness and soothe my impatience.
On my third trip to the kitchen, I heard the rattle of keys, the slide of metal, and a rush of laughter as it flooded the room. I popped the cap from the fresh bottle of beer and tossed it aside as I moved to lean with my forearm against the archway to watch Natalie wobble in, giggling with Elizabeth who was close behind. Matthew followed them in, shaking his head in what appeared to be slight amusement, his hands full of gift bags.