Authors: A. L. Jackson
“I’m sorry, Christian,” Elizabeth suddenly said, her raspy voice cutting through the strained silence. She looked down at her fists clenched in her lap and whispered lower, “I’m so,
so
sorry.”
From the side, I appraised her curled up in a tight ball on my couch, appearing so small and defeated, and I wished desperately to believe what she said.
“Are you?” I lashed out, my tongue unexpectedly sharp and severe.
She winced with the words, pressed the pads of her fingertips deep into the hollows beneath her eyes, and wiped at the tears that seemed to have fallen endlessly since she’d walked through my door hours before. “Yes.”
I searched her face for honesty and found no deceit, just a broken girl who was hurting just as badly as I was.
“What did I do wrong, Elizabeth? I . . . I thought we . . . ,” I begged.
She pinched her eyes shut, her beautiful face wasted and worn, my offense aged and old. “You
left
me.”
I leaned against the back of the couch and dragged both hands through my hair as I blew the air from my lungs toward the ceiling. I looked back at her and gave my surrender through a whispered apology. “I know I did, Elizabeth, but I
can’t
take it back. God knows, I wish I could, but I
abandoned
you, and there’s nothing I can ever do to change that now.”
As painful as it was, I ignored the part of me that wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort her, to take away her
sadness
, the part that loved her and wanted to beg her to give us a chance. It was time to give up that piece of my heart and accept that I’d done too much damage, it would never be erased, and I’d never be forgiven.
“I can’t do this anymore, Elizabeth . . . you run every time we get close. I . . . can we just . . . just forget about what happened last weekend? Go back to being friends for the sake of Lizzie? Because I
won’t
live without her, and I refuse to allow what happened this last week to ever happen again.”
What appeared as grief rocked her body, and she wheezed over broken, strangled words. “Is that really what you want?”
“God, Elizabeth . . . I . . . of course not . . .” I looked at her and touched my chest in sincerity. “I’m
in love
with you. Do you
still refuse to believe that?” I shook my head, pushed forward through the anguish of my concession, the devastation that blazed as I let go of the only woman I had ever loved—the only woman I
would
ever love. “But Lizzie’s happiness comes first . . . before you . . . before me.”
For a few painful moments, we sat in silence, Elizabeth’s mouth twisted in shame before she finally swallowed, licked her lips, and labored through halting words. “I love you, Christian . . . so much . . . and . . . and I don’t want to give that up . . . I don’t want to give
us
up.” Her eyes were closed eyes as if shielding herself from my reaction or maybe from her own admission.
My heart stuttered with her confession, both heartbroken and overjoyed. For so long, I’d wanted to hear those words fall from her lips. I’d just had no idea that in those words there would be so much sadness, that they would be tainted by years of her sorrow, and that my own thrill in finally hearing her say them aloud would be tarnished by the immense amount of resentment over what she had done.
She opened her eyes, still heavy with tears, and she angled toward me. Her expression was altogether intense and scared, but for the first time, was completely laid bare. There was nothing left for either of us to hide. Her mouth and hands shook as she continued. “What happened on my birthday . . . I wanted it . . . I wanted you. But when I woke up next to you, I panicked. Everything I’d gone through after you left me the first time came rushing back. The way it happened . . . the fact that we’d been drinking. It made me feel cheap—dirty, and all I could think was that you’d leave me again. Even when I
knew
that morning you weren’t lying when you said you loved me.” Her voice cracked and she paused.
“I
knew
I was wrong the entire week, Christian . . .
the whole week
. I watched our little girl fade away while I clung to my fears and insecurities and tried to convince myself I was doing it for her. What I put Lizzie through this week . . .” Elizabeth closed her eyes as if she were protecting herself from the memory. “I pushed my own child away when she needed me most, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for it, but I can promise that it will never happen again. She’s my life, and I’ll never again let my issues get in the way of my responsibility to her . . . my love for her. But I’m tired of running, Christian, tired of running from the only man I’ve ever wanted. If you can somehow forgive me . . .” She wet her rose-colored lips. “I want to find a way to forgive you . . . I want to let you love me and not be afraid when you do.”
Maybe now I really understood why Elizabeth had run from me all of these months, why she would never allow herself to believe. A love as intense as the one we shared, one that had not dimmed through years of betrayal but had only grown, was terrifying. We had the power to destroy, to devastate and ruin, to lay the other to waste.
But I wasn’t running.
I reached for her hand and pulled her to my chest. With the connection, the silent tears she’d cried all evening erupted. She clung to me just as tightly as Lizzie had and wept just as hard. She whispered muddled pleas into my shirt while I ran my hands through her hair. “Don’t leave me, Christian . . . please don’t ever leave me.”
I shushed her, kissed her on top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere, Elizabeth.”
I laid us down on the couch on our sides, held her close, and let her cry. Her body quaked as she sucked in shuddering breaths and buried her face in my chest. I cradled the girl I had
broken, ran my hand up and down her back and through her hair. She curled up closer, molded herself to me, and I held her tighter. On the cusp of sleep, she whispered, “Don’t ever let me go.”
I tugged the throw from the back of the couch, draped it over our bodies, and drew her closer still. “Never.”
~
I’d known when I’d woken up the next morning with Elizabeth still wrapped in my arms that things were different. She didn’t push me away when I hugged her and murmured good morning against her forehead. Instead, she had pressed her lips to my chest and looked up at me with a small, timid smile.
It was then I knew we were going to make it.
That was the last night I’d slept at my condo. I’d spent the rest sleeping on Elizabeth’s couch.
Over the last five weeks, Elizabeth and I had spent every second we could together. I met her every day for lunch and we actually
talked
. There was no skirting or softening, just honesty—even when it hurt. In the beginning, there were constant tears and a lot of anger. But she finally opened up and told me how devastated she had been when I’d abandoned her, everything she’d gone through, and how badly she had needed me. While it crushed me to hear it, I welcomed it because I knew we could never truly move on until we actually faced our past. As the weeks went on, those tears began to dry as a firm future came into view—our future.
We spent our evenings together as a family, mom and dad and daughter. As much as we laughed and played, we devoted a lot of time talking with Lizzie, giving her reassurances and straight answers for what we had done, for the ordeal we had put her through. Even then, we had started taking her to a counselor once a week to help us weed out the seed of
abandonment that had been planted, just as Elizabeth and I had started to see a counselor as a couple.
We were doing everything we could to make this work.
The nights—the nights were perfect and entirely tortuous. We spent hours on Elizabeth’s couch making out like teenagers with tangled tongues and wandering hands. When she’d finally groan and roll off me, I’d chase her upstairs and kiss her senseless against the wall outside her bedroom door. Weak-kneed, she’d careen into her bedroom, giggling and mumbling under her breath, something about me being
dangerous
.
When I’d curl up each night on her worn couch with my senses overwhelmed by Elizabeth, my body throbbing and craving more, I couldn’t imagine feeling more satisfied.
Movement from upstairs caught my attention, and I looked up. “Okay, we’re out of here.” Natalie held Lizzie’s hand as they descended the stairs, Matthew following close behind. Lizzie had her backpack on her shoulders, her doll tucked under her arm, and the sweetest grin on her face. I went to her, knelt in front of her, and touched her cheek. “Mommy and Daddy will be at Aunt Natalie’s and Uncle Matthew’s first thing in the morning to pick you up, okay?”
She nodded and wrapped her arms around my neck. “I know, Daddy. I can’t wait!”
I smiled down at her. “I can’t wait, either. I love you, princess” I brushed my lips across her forehead and stood.
Natalie popped up on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around my neck, and whispered against my ear, “I’m so happy for you guys . . . I love you all . . . you know?” She stepped back, looked up at me as if to see if I understood.
I squeezed her hand. “I love you too, Nat.”
Lizzie grinned and swayed from where she waited at our sides.
Matthew shook my hand, his words a touch pensive. “Take care of my girl.”
I nodded.
Always
.
Matthew drew Lizzie into his arms and ushered Natalie outside. I watched them until the door closed behind them. I looked up when I felt
her
. She stood at the top of the stairs wearing a fitted blue button-up dress that tied around the waist, flowed over her hips, and flared at her knees. Her hair was curled in soft waves and her face seemed to glow. She looked both modest and sexy, and she absolutely took my breath away.
I waited at the bottom of the staircase and smiled softly as I watched her every step as she came to meet me downstairs.
She stopped a foot away.
I swallowed deeply and reached for her hand. “You look amazing, Elizabeth.”
She blushed. “Thank you.” Her attention wandered down over my maroon button up, black slacks, and back up to my face. “You look amazing, too.”
I helped her into her coat and led her out to my car. I kissed her softly before I opened her door and settled her into the front seat.
The ride was quiet, filled with anticipation and thrumming hearts. I held her hand the entire way, kept stealing glances at the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
I parked and went around and helped her out, popped the trunk to grab the blanket and the picnic basket Lizzie and Natalie had helped me prepare earlier in the day.
With clasped hands, we made our way up the pathway and over the embankment. Elizabeth stopped to pull her heels from her feet when we hit the sand. Maybe it had been silly for us to dress for a nighttime trip to the beach, but we’d dressed for a celebration—tonight we would celebrate us.
The moon was high and lit up the beach, the waves gentle in their swell and roll, a peaceful calm. The tepid San Diego air of December chilled our skin as it rushed over the water and against our faces, and Elizabeth hugged her coat to her body. She shivered and curled up closer to my side as she walked barefoot over the cool sand.
When we reached the spot where she’d first shared this beach with me, I spread out the blanket and pulled her down beside me. We laughed as we fought against the wind. It whipped around us while we shared our meal of fruit and cheese and drank champagne in small plastic cups over timid smiles of expectation.
Neither of us could stop grinning by the time we’d finished.
“Come here.” I extended my hand and helped her settle between my legs so she could lean against my chest. I hugged her close as we looked out over the darkened water that rippled and gleamed in the moonlight and whispered against the back her head, “I love you so much, Elizabeth.”
She nodded against my chest and clasped her hands over mine.
I turned her and pulled her up to her knees, before I shifted to bow in front of her on one of mine. We both knew why we were here and I already knew what her answer would be, but it didn’t keep my hands from trembling as I fumbled through my coat pocket and drew out the small black box. I lifted the lid, held out my modest offering, and with it, forever promised my heart.
“Be my wife.”
Tears flowed down Elizabeth’s face, but this time they were different—filled with joy and hope and a love no longer kept hidden and restrained. She nodded and whimpered a little
as I took the simple platinum solitaire from its box and slid it onto her finger and to its rightful place—six years late and bittersweet—but sweet nonetheless.
We both stared at her hand for a few moments, absorbing the moment, realizing the commitment we had just made. My smile was one of devoted elation as I looked back up at her. Hers was soggy and irresistible. Tugging her to me, I wrapped my arms around her back and kissed her. I held her face in my hands and whispered, “I love you.”
She didn’t hesitate. “I love you, Christian.”
We gathered our things, anxious for home. As always, the neighborhood was quiet as we pulled onto her street. Houses sparkled with Christmas lights. Plastic Santa Clauses and reindeer stood glowing in front yards and on roofs and fake snow that would never fall in San Diego decorated windows.
Tomorrow, Lizzie would see real snow for the first time.
I parked in the driveway and rushed around to help Elizabeth from the car. We walked hand-in-hand to her door and locked it behind us. It took only a split second for desire to grab hold of us, to swallow us in silence, to leave us staring at each other with quickened pulses and pounding hearts. Elizabeth said nothing but tugged on my hand and led me upstairs and to her room.
I stopped at the threshold, turned her to look at me, and held her face in my hands. “Are you sure, Elizabeth?” There would be no more assumptions, and I would take no more of what she wasn’t ready to give.
She placed her hand on my chest, ran it up to the back of my neck and into my hair, and pulled me down to her mouth. Her kiss was slow and maddening, and she whispered softly against my lips, “I’m yours.”