Chapter Twelve
As I weaved my small car through the traffic heading downtown, I felt a bit nervous, though I wasn’t quite sure why. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t spent almost every day with Christian for the past two months or more.
I’d just never been to his place before. Lizzie, on the other hand, could hardly contain herself.
“Mommy, look!” Lizzie squealed from the backseat. I glanced in the rearview mirror to see her pointing at one of the towering buildings ahead. “There’s Daddy’s house.” Her eyes were wide in anticipation, her body humming in excitement as she squirmed in her booster seat.
Tonight would be the first night she’d ever slept over at her father’s house.
Switching lanes, I pulled into the underground parking lot and entered the code Christian had given me.
Chuckling, I rushed to keep up with Lizzie as she unbuckled her seat belt and grabbed her things. She swung her door open wide and stood impatiently at mine.
“Come on, Mommy!” She ran ahead, her backpack bouncing with each step, her doll tucked under her arm.
Adorable.
She pressed the button to the side of the elevator; it was obvious she was familiar with the routine. She was grinning as she yelled, “Hurry up, Mommy!” She was forever excited to be with her father.
I wondered when that had stopped hurting.
I caught up to her and entered the elevator. We rode it the ten floors to Christian’s condo, and I followed her down the hallway to his door.
I went to knock, but Lizzie turned the knob before I could. She ran in unannounced, squealing her delight as she called out for her father. Christian didn’t seem surprised by her entrance, but turned from where he sat on the couch, a computer resting on his lap, black-framed glasses on his eyes, and a welcome on his face.
Breathtaking.
I shook away the thought and instead, focused on my daughter’s joy.
Christian set his computer aside just in time for her to jump on his lap. “Hi, Daddy!”
“Hi, princess.” He nuzzled his nose in her hair, held her.
My chest swelled as I watched them and internally celebrated their reunion, thankful my daughter had this.
Christian looked over his shoulder and smiled at me from where I still stood in his doorway. “Hey, Elizabeth.”
“Hey.” I offered a small smile and stepped forward. For the first time I took in my surroundings. It was the typical loft, one large room that served as living space and kitchen. There was a hall off to the right that I assumed led to the bedrooms. The view of the ocean was beautiful, but the home on scale was much smaller than I’d expected, less assuming, warmer.
It surprised me, much as everything seemed to where Christian was concerned.
As I crossed the room, Christian watched me as if he relished each step that brought me closer to him.
I still hadn’t come to terms with the revelation of last weekend—a savings account in my name that held more money than I’d make in five years at the bank. The amount of anger I’d felt when I’d opened the fattened envelope had been blinding, enough to make my head spin and my blood boil.
Of course I understood what Christian was trying to do, that he desired to provide for his daughter and, though he never said it, provide for me as well.
What he couldn’t understand was how in the process he had trivialized the trials I had overcome, the difficulties I’d faced, and the hardships I’d endured. It made light of the nights I’d spent awake while I’d worried for my daughter’s future and wondered how we would survive.
Part of me had argued that I couldn’t blame him, that he didn’t know what I’d been through.
But, really, that was the issue; he didn’t know because he had never been man enough to check.
I still didn’t know if I could ever forgive him for that.
As deep as my resentment went, that anger paled in comparison to the void his absence had left, and I was on the phone begging him back before I’d even realized what I was doing, before I could comprehend the hold he had on me.
It scared me to feel my resolve slip as Christian chipped away at my heart, a little here and a little there, slowly rendering me weak, just as he had done so many years before. Sometimes I wondered why I fought it, fought him, that no matter how hard I tried, we’d end up in the same place—the place where he had control of my heart, the place where he could shatter it just as easily as he could make it whole.
That pain was fresh enough to know it was not a place I wanted to be.
I remembered it as I sank down beside the two of them on his couch, conscious to leave a small amount of space between us—distance.
It didn’t stop his eyes from their touch, from the embrace of his gaze as it washed over me, lingering on my mouth.
I closed my eyes to shield myself from it, my only defense. Even then, I felt him.
I opened them when I felt his attention shift and the weight of his gaze subside, his voice only for our child. “So, what do you want to do tonight, sweetheart?”
It was easy to regret that I wouldn’t be spending the evening with them as I listened to them make their plans, an evening of games, stories, a quiet night in. Having watched them play enough, I was sure there would be lots laughter, plenty of hugs, tender embraces.
The clock against the wall indicated it was getting late, so with reluctance, I declared that I needed to go.
At the door, I knelt to hug my daughter to my chest and whispered for her to have a great time with her dad.
She nodded and squeezed me tighter. “I’ll miss you, Mommy.”
I released a heavy breath against the side of her head. “I’ll miss you, too, sweetheart.” Even if I was looking forward to the evening, there was a part of me that hated any time spent away from her, the part that would always rather stay.
Christian stood to the side of us, his hands burrowed deep in the pockets of his jeans, his eyes soft as he watched us say our goodbyes. I wondered if he felt anything like I did when I watched them say goodbye.
When I rose, I brushed his arm and I hoped it wasn’t too obvious when I pulled away. Other than by chance, I’d only reached for him once, the day at the beach when he’d extended his hand. It was a connection that had proven to be too much, and I’d released his hold just as quickly as I had taken it.
If he noticed it now, he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead he smiled. “Thanks, Elizabeth.”
I shook my head and released a small laugh at his needless thanks. “I asked you to keep her tonight, remember?”
“I know.” He inclined his head toward Lizzie. “This just means a lot.”
I nodded. I had long since accepted his devotion to our daughter, though I still couldn’t keep myself from praying that trust wasn’t a mistake. But even if it were, I wouldn’t steal this time from Lizzie. It was hers, and for now, she was adored. And as long as she was, I wouldn’t let my fears get in the way. I smiled down at my wide-eyed daughter and then directed it at Christian. “You two have a great time tonight.”
Christian looked at his feet and then back at me. “Wish you were staying with us.”
Me too.
Instead of saying it, I nodded and started out the door, waving over my shoulder with a laugh as Christian’s tone turned teasing and he called out, “You girls don’t get into too much trouble tonight.”
There wasn’t much risk of that.
I drove across town and pulled up to Mom’s house a couple of minutes after six. The street was already lined with the cars of those I loved.
Mom had called a girls’ night as these nights were so aptly referred to, a night of reprieve from the everyday stressors of life. This was a night to laugh and unwind, to joke, to uplift, to renew the everlasting bonds of the women of this family. It served to remind us of why we’d flocked back to this city. I always appreciated the time set aside to remember just how much we needed each other.
I walked up the narrow sidewalk to the small house I’d grown up in. The neighborhood was old but valued by its residents, well-kept and well-maintained. The dark green shutters showed evidence of a fresh coat of paint, and the planters under the windows were bursting with fall color. Lush trees grew along the house, tall and proud.
With my overnight bag slung over my shoulder, I walked through my mother’s front door without a knock. I was hit with the sound of high-pitched laughter coming from the kitchen. It was apparent girls’ night was already in full swing. Grinning, I set my bag aside, made my way across the family room, and swung the door open to the kitchen. Immediately everyone welcomed me, a resounding Elizabeth engulfing me as I entered the room.
Mom and Aunt Donna, the family matriarchs, our cornerstones, sat at the small kitchen table. They were laughing as they drank beer from cans and ate potato chips. Both of their voices were a deep alto, a rich vibration that spoke of security and stability. I went straight to Mom, kissed her cheek, and told her how happy I was to see her. Next I hugged Aunt Donna and then her daughter, Kelly, Natalie’s older sister. Kelly was two years my junior, sweet and shy. She always seemed to linger on the outskirts of conversation with not much to say but always had a permanent smile on her face.
Their sister-in-law, Samantha, stood at the end of the bar that separated the kitchen and breakfast nook, her belly round with her first child. She sipped from a glass of lemon-mint water I was sure my sister Sarah had been thoughtful enough to prepare for her. I went to her, pressed my hands to her stomach, and told her how I excited I was to meet her baby boy. She held her hands over mine, her smile endless, exuding joy.
On the other side of the bar at the kitchen counter, Sarah was arranging cheese and crackers on a tray, mixing dips, and slicing vegetables. True to form, her hands were never idle. She only paused long enough to offer me a tight hug and tell me she was glad I was here, before she was hard at work again.
We’d long since given up trying to get her to relax.
Natalie and Carrie sat on barstools that were swiveled around to face the table. I leaned in to place a kiss on their cheeks, raising my eyebrows and shaking my head in mock disapproval as it became quite clear the two of them had been sucking down cocktails faster than Sarah could make them.
There were only eight of us, but within the confines of my mother’s small kitchen, it felt as if it were crawling with people, overflowing as we moved around the space, but comfortable at the same time.
Now that I was here, I no longer regretted that I wasn’t spending the evening with Lizzie and Christian. They needed their own time together, and I certainly needed this—a night to loosen the binds of my wound up heart, to leave it unguarded, and for once not to feel the need to hold myself in restraint.
With that thought, I graciously accepted the glass of white wine that Sarah offered and pulled a chair from the table. I curled my legs up under me and allowed myself to relax. I grinned at the conversations happening around me. It was no surprise that Natalie and Carrie were the most vocal, forever entertaining. They’d always been close from the time they were small children, and their bond had only grown over the years. While Natalie and I were like sisters, relying upon each other in day-to-day life, Natalie and Carrie were best of friends. They’d spent years talking about boys, first kisses, first loves, every secret.
Sometimes I was surprised it caused me no jealousy.
When Matthew had come along, Natalie had needed Carrie and had relied on her as someone she could count on who wouldn’t judge, who’d only listen. Just because I had given Matthew and Natalie my blessing didn’t mean that it hadn’t caused them a great amount of guilt, that there wasn’t talk, that everyone in the family had viewed their newfound relationship with approval.
I’d seen the shame Natalie bore, and I was the last person she could talk to during that time. I’d just been thankful Carrie had been there to keep her together while I’d helplessly watched her falling apart.
Mom and Donna dove into their favorite topic—greatly exaggerated stories of our youth. Each of us added our own memories to them. Laughter rang out, our smiles wide, the volume of our voices increasing with each story told, every glass emptied.
I found I was really enjoying myself, unable to remember feeling so relaxed in a very long time. It wasn’t as if I didn’t treasure every second with Lizzie. But Mom was right. I needed a break, a night without responsibility.
Natalie and Carrie grew louder, giggling and chatting amongst themselves, but not so wrapped up in each other that they weren’t a part of the rest of us.
Sarah finally moved from her post in the kitchen and took a seat beside me at the table. She groaned in pleasure when she propped her feet up at the edge of my chair and sipped one of the drinks she’d been feeding Natalie and Carrie all night. I flashed a meaningful smile in her direction, one that told her she deserved a break too.
As the night progressed, we went around in a circle, each one filling in the rest of us on her life, what had happened since the last time we’d all met. Some stories were of little significance, others of great importance, our joys and struggles, the everyday, the life changing.
“So, how’s my sweet little Lizzie?” Mom asked, turning the attention to me.
Apparently, it was my turn.
“She’s doing great,” I answered without hesitation. I’m sure the smile on my face was a mile wide as I gushed with mother’s pride. It was so strange that my baby girl was now already in kindergarten, and I told them of how well she’d adjusted from preschool to “big girl” school as Lizzie liked to call it, how she blossomed every day, and how I worried if I closed my eyes for too long, when I opened them, she’d be a woman.
I opened and closed my mouth, unsure how to phrase it.
“Christian’s around . . . a lot,” I said carefully, hopeful not to upset Mom. Every time she’d asked, I’d skirted around the subject and never answered her directly. It wasn’t that I was trying to be dishonest or hide it from her. I just knew I wouldn’t know how to answer the questions she would have.
Just like now.
She frowned, the natural creases that lined her face deepening. “What does that mean?”
I tried to sound casual. “He just . . . tries to spend a lot of time with Lizzie.”
“Pssh . . . spend a lot of time with Lizzie?” Natalie cut in as she waved her hand in a gesture that said my statement was ridiculous. Shaking her head, she leaned forward as if she had the juiciest bit of gossip to share. She should have known better, because to the occupants of this house, it was. “That man is at her house every day, and it’s not just to see Lizzie.”
I shot her a look that told her to shut the hell up.
“What?” Natalie asked in defense as if I should have no problem with her sharing something so private. “It’s not a big deal, Liz. I think it’s great . . . so does Matthew,” she added with a shrug.
A collective gasp went around the room, and that shock shifted to unease.
A mixture of embarrassment and anger flared on my face and heated my cheeks. This wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to go. I’d wanted to ease the rest of my family into the idea of Christian being a part of our lives, not have Nat giving them fuel for the assumptions I was sure they were already going to make. She knew my mother didn’t know Christian had become something so significant.
To the rest of these women, he was still the “infamous Christian Davison.”
“Are you back together with him?” Mom demanded with her brow knitted in what I could only assume was disgust. I couldn’t tell if that disgust was due to the idea of that being a reality or if she was hurt because she thought she’d been kept in the dark about something so important in my life.
“No . . . no . . . of course not . . . he’s just . . . ” I rambled, shaking my head, unsure of what to say because I had no explanation for what he was. I didn’t know myself.
“Well if you don’t want him, I’ll take him,” Carrie piped up, laughing through slurred words as if it were the funniest thing she’d ever said. “That is one gorgeous man.”
“Shut up, Carrie,” I spat in her direction. She had no right to say something like that, drunk or not.
She laughed, not even fazed that she’d upset me. She’d probably not even noticed.
“I mean, come on, Liz. Have you seen the man? You think he’s going stick around? Wait for you forever? Somebody’s gonna catch him.” She shrugged and smirked. “Might as well be me.”
My hands shook and tears pricked at my eyes. Right then, I hated my little sister.
“Shut up,” I said through gritted teeth, seething before I stood and slammed my wine glass down on the kitchen table. “Just shut the hell up!”
She sat back, shocked by my reaction, before a horrified expression crossed her face when she realized she’d really hurt me. “Oh, my—my God, Liz, I . . . I’m . . . ” she stuttered, reaching for me.
I shrugged her hand off and shook my head. I couldn’t listen to her right now.
I stormed from the room to the sound of Sarah’s mock applause. “That’s really great, Carrie. Real cute.”
“I didn’t mean . . . ” Carrie said, trying to defend herself, but stopping short when Sarah’s voice overtook hers.
“Just shut up, Carrie. You’ve said enough tonight.”
The door closed behind me, leaving me with trembling hands and the sound of muddled, heated words coming from the other room. I rushed to get my jacket on, shaking as I fumbled with the zipper on my bag and then flung it over my shoulder and onto my back.
The door swung open, and for a moment Aunt Donna’s words became clear as she scolded Natalie and Carrie as if they were schoolgirls who’d been caught smoking in the bathroom, rebuking their banter, criticizing for inconsiderate words. Mom stood in the doorway, her eyes sympathetic and worried. As soon as they landed on my face, I broke. Tears rolled down my cheeks, hot and angry and hurt. She crossed the room and took me in her arms. She wiped my tears and whispered that Carrie didn’t mean what she’d said.
I shook my head against her shoulder, allowed myself to fall apart in her comfort. “I don’t know what to do,” I cried again and again, desperate for Mom to understand, to have an answer.
I didn’t know what to do.
She shushed me, pushed the matted hair from my face, and shook her head in empathy.
“Oh, Elizabeth, honey.” She tightened her hold and ran her hand through my hair. “I can’t tell you what to do, sweetheart. That’s something you’re going to have to decide for yourself,” she murmured against my head, a hopeless consolation.
I cried harder, clung to her, wished for the day when just her touch had eased my every fear, her advice an answer for my every question.
How could I ever decide if I could never know for sure that he wouldn’t hurt me or wouldn’t leave me once again?
She stepped back and lifted my chin, searching my face. “You still love him?”
I was sure she knew I did, had probably always known, although every word I’d ever spoken of Christian to her had been riddled with scorn.
Closing my eyes, I nodded once against her hand.
She released a heavy breath, and I opened my eyes to her slowly shaking her head. Her eyes were sad and she seemed to struggle with what to say.
After what he’d done, I knew it would take a very long time for her to forgive Christian for hurting her child so deeply, and I could see in her face that she was scared for me, scared for Lizzie. But I also knew she’d never ridicule me if I chose to be with him.
She turned up a small, understanding smile and reached out to squeeze my hands, a reiteration. You have to decide for yourself.
I squeezed back. “I love you, Mom.”
Her smile grew just a fraction. “I love you so much, Liz.”
She looked over her shoulder, back to me, and tugged on my hands. “Come on. Let’s not let this ruin our night.”
Grimacing, I stepped back and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “I think I’m going to go home.” There were too many thoughts racing through my head, too much confusion, too many suppressed emotions vying for release.
Mom’s face fell. “Liz, honey . . . it’s late and you’ve been drinking.”
“I’ll call a cab. I just want to be alone.” It wasn’t really the truth. I just didn’t want to be here.
She sighed but offered no further argument and instead, stepped forward to take me in her arms again. She made no false promises, didn’t tell me that it would be okay, and didn’t tell me that it’d all work out. She simply smothered me in her warmth, showered me in love and unending support.
Finally, she dropped her arms and told me to call her if I wanted to talk.
“Night, Mom.”
“Goodnight.”
I stepped out, the cool night biting my flaming cheeks. I tugged my jacket tighter and hugged myself. I was feeling embarrassed, foolish about my overreaction, vulnerable in my thoughts.
Sniffling away the evidence of my tears, I dug in my purse to find my phone and dialed the number I’d seen plastered on the side of taxicabs so many times before. The night was quiet, the city covered in a heavy sheet of dark gray sky. I breathed in the damp air, lifted my face to it, never felt more alone.
It took only a few minutes before headlights cut through the night and lit the street, and a taxicab came to a stop in front of my mother’s house. I stole one last glance behind me before I climbed into the backseat and gave the driver directions to my home.
Blowing the air from my lungs, I tried to clear my mind. My head lolled against the dingy vinyl seat, and I was unsure if the sick feeling in my stomach stemmed from the excess alcohol in my system or from the confrontation I’d just had with my sister.
My phone buzzed in my lap with a text message, then buzzed again and again with a progressive string of apologies from my little sister begging for forgiveness, promising she was just kidding, that she didn’t really mean it, that she loved me.
I knew I really wasn’t upset with my sister, but with the truth of what she’d said. Christian wouldn’t wait around forever.
Could I handle it when one day he came to me, his blue eyes dancing as he told me that he’d met someone, as he confided in his friend that he had fallen in love? Would I be able to smile and tell him how happy I was for him? Could I give him encouragement? Offer advice?
I rolled my eyes at myself.
I couldn’t even handle my little sister joking about it.
I typed back a quick response, one that would ease her and let her know it was okay, that she was forgiven—a simple I love you too.
Fifteen minutes later, the taxi pulled up to the curb in front of my house. The windows were dark and the faint yellow glow of the porch lamp offered the only light.
Alone.
The driver looked over his shoulder, frowning.
Shaking myself out of my daze, I pulled my wallet from my purse and handed him a twenty, mumbling a quiet, “Thank you,” as I floundered my way from the backseat of the car. He waited until I opened the door to the emptiness of my house before he drove away.
I locked the door behind me and dragged myself upstairs. I washed my face and brushed my teeth, couldn’t keep the thoughts at bay.
Brittany.
That name had eaten at me over the last couple of months. Unknown pictures of her had swam through my head as I imagined what she had been like and what had drawn him to her, and I’d often fallen asleep thinking of him falling asleep with her.
The shame had been clear as he’d admitted his past to me, the many faceless women he’d been with, those whose names he’d probably not even known. It wasn’t those that had bothered me, though, those that haunted me in the night, those that evoked an ache in my chest and made it hard to breathe.
What bothered me was that he’d found someone he’d cared enough about to lie beside night after night, someone he cared enough about to share the day-to-day.
How long before he found someone like her again?
It was with those thoughts that I found myself sitting up in bed in the darkness of my room, clutching my phone with my eyes closed, willing myself to stay strong—to ignore the need to hear his voice. It was only after midnight, not so late that he would think it strange that I was calling, asking about Lizzie an easy excuse. Would he know that it wasn’t the true reason I called? Would he know I was already certain that my daughter was fine, safe and happy and resting easily in the small bedroom that her father had set up just for her? Would he know that I longed for his warmth, the way his voice would wrap around me just as if it were his arms? Would he know that I needed him?
Once again, I found myself on the edge looking down, wondering when I’d get so close that I’d fall. Or maybe I’d just jump.
I shook my head.
No.
I talked myself back from the ledge, forced myself to place the phone down on my nightstand, and cried myself to sleep.
~
“Hey, Liz,” the deep voice called from behind.
I stood at my kitchen counter, my fingers wet from slicing tomatoes in preparation for our barbecue, and glanced over my shoulder at Matthew standing in the archway. In my humiliation, I turned away and focused on the task in front of me.
“Hey,” I mumbled toward the counter.
Matthew approached, stood next to me, and wrapped an arm around my back with a gentle squeeze. “You okay?”
Nodding, I leaned into him a bit and felt myself relax against my friend. While I was embarrassed, I knew I really had no reason to be. Matthew only cared, and I knew he wouldn’t judge or tease, would offer no ridicule for my actions of the evening before.
“Nat and I brought your car back.” He smiled as if nothing had happened, case closed, and went to the fridge to grab a bottle of beer and walked out the back door.
I could sense Natalie hovering in the same spot where Matthew had been. She was fidgeting and feeling as unsure with me as I felt with her. I wasn’t exactly mad at her, but I wasn’t thrilled with how she’d acted last night either. She released a soft but audible sigh, as if she needed to make herself known, to warn me of her presence, or maybe even needed reassurance of her welcome.
“Hey, Natalie.” It came out low with a hint of disappointment, but it was mostly filled with my need to make things right between us.
It was enough to bring her across the room, her feet light. She rose up on her tiptoes behind me, rested her chin on my shoulder, and wrapped her arms around my middle to hug me to her chest. “I’m so sorry, Liz.” Far from flippant, her apology was solemn and sincere. “We were just messing around. I shouldn’t have . . . I know how . . .” She swallowed, heavy with remorse, and shook her head. “It was rude, Liz. We made light of something that causes you pain, and for that, I’m so sorry.”
I tilted my head to hers in a small embrace, and I set the knife I was holding on the cutting board so I could reach down to cover her hands with mine. “It’s okay.” I rubbed my thumbs over the back of her hands.
We stood like that for a few moments, looking out the window into the backyard. Matthew and Christian sat at the small patio table, chatting as they nursed their beers, laughing as if they were old friends. Lizzie was perched on Christian’s knee, grinning while she played with the small dolls in front of her. It seemed that without thought Christian would run his fingers through Lizzie’s long hair flowing down her back and play with the ends.
“Sweet, isn’t it?” Nat murmured, her attention focused on Lizzie and Christian.
“Mmm hmm,” I said from somewhere in the back of my throat, unable to voice how it really made me feel, how it made my heart soar and made me question everything I’d held onto for so long. How it made me want to believe he would treat me the same way.
“You don’t have to be miserable anymore, Elizabeth,” Natalie whispered as she pressed her cheek into mine, a gentle encouragement.
I closed my eyes to block my mind from what I so desperately wanted, shook my head ever so slightly, and disagreed. “I’m not miserable.”
She snorted although it sounded like sympathy and hugged me closer, before she walked to the back door, only to pause just before she stepped out. “That’s not what it looked like last night.”
She slid the door closed behind her, pulled a chair out from the patio table, and sat down with her back to me.
I gazed out at my family, the family that had grown by one, and couldn’t imagine it any other way. Christian caught me staring and looked up at me with eyes filled with adoration, need, want, tender affection, and overt desire. For once, I didn’t look away, and I hoped he’d see in my expression that I felt the same, that he’d know that I loved him, even though I’d never allow myself to say the words.
The afternoon stretched on, peaceful and without strain. For once, my nerves were quiet as I rested at the table with those closest to me. We’d eaten, joked, and shared the trivial events of our week. Matthew and Natalie never mentioned the night before, the incident forgotten. Lizzie played on the grass, soaking in the last few rays of light as the sun hung low in the horizon, each day shorter than the last as October threatened to give way to November.
It was odd to witness the trust that had emerged between Christian and Matthew, their conversation casual and unlabored, genuine. Years before, when Christian and I had been together, the disdain Matthew had held for Christian had been clear. It had been as if he could foretell the future and he’d known of Christian’s betrayal before it had ever been committed.
I couldn’t help but wonder what he saw now, what had changed as the two men talked as friends that I now believed they considered themselves to be. Our conversation continued on, uncomfortable silences unheard of on this perfect Sunday afternoon.
Christian was laughing loud and unhindered when his phone rang out from within the confines of his jacket pocket. Still chuckling, he patted his coat, feeling for the phone, pulled it out and said, “Excuse me a second.”
We all quieted, lowering our voices so he could take his call.
I tried to focus on what Natalie was saying, but couldn’t ignore the way Christian stiffened and his tone hardened when he answered, “Yes, this is Christian Davison.”
Natalie stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes darted between Christian and me, her brow creasing with worry as the silence on Christian’s end wore on. I watched as Christian slumped forward and dug his elbows into his thighs. His knuckles were white from the force with which he held his phone, and his other hand jerked incessantly through his hair.
“What?” he finally choked out in anguish. There was another long break, this time his hand fisting in his hair. When he spoke again, he sounded detached, stunned, his voice so quiet I was sure whoever was on the other line didn’t hear him. “Okay, thank you.”
I wanted to drop to my knees to draw his face to mine, to comfort him for whatever was causing him this reaction. But I was frozen, the blood sloshing in my ears, making me sick with unease as I waited.
Christian sat up, his face portraying nothing, void of emotion, pale and unfeeling. Shocked.
“Christian?” I began but stopped when he glanced in the direction of my voice and then back ahead, unseeing, muttering in disbelief.
“My father is dead.” He squeezed his eyes shut, blinked them open, and said again, “My father is dead.”
Oh no.
My hand covered my mouth as I tried to suppress the cry that bubbled up, a seemingly inappropriate sound for a man I had only despised but couldn’t help but mourn if solely for the fact that he had fathered Christian.
“I have to go,” Christian said in words that were barely audible, directed at no one at all. He stood and moved as if on instinct but without comprehension. The three of us watched in shock as he disappeared inside my house. before my senses finally caught up and I shook off my stupor.
Christian needed me.
I jumped up, knocking my chair over in the process, and raced inside to catch him, only to trip over my feet when I got to the living room. Christian was on the couch hunched over, his hands clutching his head, balled up in a position so similar to the one he had been in just seconds before. Faster than I could give myself time to think, I was on my knees in front of him, whispering soothing words. I pried his hands from his hair, held his beautiful face, and ran my thumbs under his eyes.
It was as if he didn’t even know I was there.
I’d never seen him act this way. “Christian, please say something.”
He shook his head and stood as he once again said, “I have to go.”
Natalie and Matthew stood in the archway, watching with horrified expressions. I looked helplessly to them and mouthed, “What should I do?”
Christian was halfway out the front door when the soft sound of Lizzie’s voice hit our ears, scared and shaking.
“Daddy?”
With it, Christian halted mid-stride, her voice enough to break through whatever barrier had his heart and mind trapped.
The release of tension was visible as his rigid shoulders went lax, his eyes clear as he turned and drew Lizzie into his arms when she ran across the room to him..