Chapter Seventeen
Leaving Lizzie that way was the hardest thing I’d ever done. The door slammed behind me harder than I’d intended, and I’d felt the intensity of Lizzie’s stare through the window as she watched me walk away from her. I couldn’t stop the sound of her begging me to stay from persisting in my ears. The muscles in my chest coiled and constricted, and I had to force myself to get in my car and drive away.
At the end of the street, I stopped, buried my face in my hands, and tried to make sense of how everything had fallen apart—how in one hazy night my near-perfect life had been destroyed. It was a life that I’d known only for a handful of months, but one that had erased every lonely day I’d had before it began.
How could I have been so stupid? Why did I have to push and take when I knew she wasn’t ready?
I’d wakened to an empty bed with the taste of stale alcohol on my tongue and a hint of Elizabeth on my skin. It all rushed back, how the night had escalated out of control and had erupted in pent up passion, fast hands, and impulsive reactions. I was hit with the magnitude of the mistake I’d made. I hadn’t even asked but had come undone inside of her, careless and irresponsible. I should have known where Elizabeth’s mind would go, what it would remind her of. I’d stumbled from her bed and downstairs to seek her out. I’d wanted to reassure her of my love, to show her that no matter how imprudent our actions were from the night before, I was there to stay. I’d felt a fleeting sense of relief when I’d come upon her holding my shirt to her face.
That relief had been shattered when she’d pushed me away, demanded that I go, accused me of taking advantage of her.
She thought I’d used her.
“Damn it, Elizabeth,” I said aloud in the confines of my car as I rammed my head back against the seat. I contemplated turning around and going back to her house. Instead, I turned out onto the main road.
While I drove back toward my condo, I tried to convince myself that Elizabeth just needed some time to calm down, and just like so many times before, any measure of progress we made was met with a step back. Somehow, though, I knew that this time it was different. I’d touched Elizabeth in a place that never should have been touched, had unleashed something deeper than I’d ever acknowledged existed—something I’d created in her many years before.
There was no other explanation for her reaction. This woman was one of the best mothers I knew. She was a woman who loved our daughter just as deeply as I did. Something had to have snapped inside of Elizabeth for her to put Lizzie through what she had this morning. I’d wanted to shake her, to grab her by the shoulders and demand that she wake up and see what she was doing to Lizzie—to open her eyes so she could see the fear in Lizzie’s.
Instead, I was left struggling to comfort our daughter the best I could, to promise her that it would be okay even when I really wasn’t sure that it would.
Never had my condo felt more desolate than when I stepped through the door this Sunday morning. My head pounded with the remnants of last night’s excess, a reminder of my indiscretions. I crawled under the cold sheets of my bed and forced my lids closed, hoping for escape, a few minutes reprieve. Behind them I only saw my daughter’s face and heard the echo of Elizabeth’s words, I hate you . . . I want you out of our lives.
And I didn’t know who to blame.
I’d messed up, I knew. I should have been more cautious. Elizabeth was fragile and should have been treated with care. But I knew, even still, even after everything that had been said, that she had wanted me just as badly as I had wanted her. It had been building for weeks, for months.
Besides that, no matter what Elizabeth and I had done to each other, regardless of any mistakes we may have made and whatever consequences we had to face, there was absolutely no excuse for making Lizzie suffer because of it.
Eluded by sleep, I sat up and called Mom. I just needed someone to talk to, someone to offer me hope in a time when I felt entirely hopeless. I told her everything with as little detail as possible.
She sighed and muttered, “Oh, Christian.” Her disappointment was clear. I could see her shaking her head, sad and worried, as she told me, “Give her some time.”
Time. Always more time.
I tried, but it was nearly impossible.
The hours ticked by, second by excruciating second. The sun filled the sky and then dove toward the ocean, all the while I sat static on my couch, waiting.
At seven fifteen, I called, and a new fear gripped me when it went to voicemail. Seven fifteen wasn’t about Elizabeth and me. It was about Lizzie. Would she really try to keep me from my daughter?
I want you out of our lives.
A stunning pain tore through my chest as I listened to the unbearable silence on the other end, and I finally pled low, “Please, Elizabeth, don’t do this.” I prayed she would come to her senses.
I’d almost forgotten what insomnia felt like, the exhaustion coupled with a racing mind and thundering heart. Only now it was so much worse than ever before. In place of nagging guilt and what-ifs was agonizing loss. Shadows that had once concealed an unknown child were replaced by the face of my precious daughter, by her glowing spirit and the pinked roundness of her cheeks, by the trust in her smile and the faith in her eyes when I promised her I would never leave her again. Those images blurred and mixed with thoughts of Elizabeth, the woman with the sweet, insecure smile and wary heart that I’d come to know over the last months, the woman I loved even more now than the girl I’d fallen in love with years before, only because I’d grown to be capable of that kind of love.
And as much as I wanted to run from the memory, I couldn’t help but think of the way Elizabeth’s skin had burned under my hands the night before and how perfect she had felt. Even though it had been wrong on so many levels, it still had been completely right—because we were right.
Groaning, I rolled over in bed and gave up on getting any sleep. I stood and stretched my sore muscles when the first light seeped through my bedroom windows.
I went into the office early and left just as soon as I’d come. I couldn’t focus on anything but the relentless throbbing in my chest.
From my car, I called Elizabeth again and again. I knew I shouldn’t, that I should give her time, but I begged her to call me. I told her I had never intended to make her feel used, that she and Lizzie meant the world to me, hoped if I told her I loved her enough she would finally believe it.
Matthew showed up at my condo that evening. I buzzed him in and wasn’t surprised at all to see the rage set deep in the lines of his face when I opened the door. It drained when he saw me, catching him off guard, before he stepped inside and demanded to know what the hell was going on.
I didn’t spare him the details I had spared my mother.
“Goddamn it, Christian. What in the hell were you thinking?”
That was the problem—I wasn’t thinking.
I sank onto my couch, buried my head in hands, and looked back up at him. “I love her.”
He scratched at the back of his neck in discomfort, softened his demeanor. His commitment would always be with Elizabeth, but I also felt somewhere along the way we’d become friends and he believed me when I told him I loved her.
“That was really stupid, Christian . . . you should have known you needed to take it slow with her . . . she’s . . . she’s . . .” He turned away and blew out a long breath. “You really fucked her up, man.” He cut his eyes back to me, and I knew he wasn’t just talking about what happened this last weekend.
“I know.”
“Give her a couple of days . . . she needs some space. She’s not doing so great right now.”
I nodded, and I really did try.
But it didn’t take long for the guilt I felt over Saturday night to transform and for my anger to grow.
I couldn’t believe Elizabeth would allow this to happen to our daughter. I sat outside Lizzie’s school on Tuesday afternoon. I expected Natalie to be there, that Elizabeth would have asked her to pick Lizzie up rather than me as I had for so many months, but I needed Lizzie to see me, to understand that I did not intend to leave her.
Looking at Lizzie was like looking at ghost. My child was missing and in her place was a shell with an ashen face, pale and wan. She plodded along dragging her feet, her only lifeline the doll she clutched protectively to her.
From the car, I watched her from across the street. Only when she felt me did her numbness subside, a second’s recognition and a flicker of life. Natalie trailed her gaze to mine and smiled sadly as she nudged Lizzie forward and into her car.
For the first time, my calls to Elizabeth were not filled with apologizes but with accusations.
As much as I loved her, I hated her for placing our daughter in the middle of something that was so obviously about the two of us.
My anger and concern only grew as the next days passed.
Thursday, when every call I’d made had been unreturned, I made a call I had never wanted to make.
A few hours after first speaking with him, my attorney, Lloyd Barrett, called back and laid out what he had found. I sat at the small table in my kitchen with my elbows grinding into the tabletop, palming the back of my head as I listened to him first read through the record of eviction during the first year of Lizzie’s life, just months after Elizabeth had moved to San Diego. I hadn’t known about it and was still trying to digest the information when Lloyd continued. His next words were like daggers that went straight through my chest as he read word for word the police report of the 911 call from a little girl screaming for someone to help her mommy, the beaten woman identified as Elizabeth Ayers, the paramedics, and the arrest of Shawn Trokoe.
With a hint of disappointment he said, “That’s all we have, but it should be enough to at least provoke some doubt in her judgment.”
That’s all?
I cursed myself, wanted to curse him and ask him how either of these things didn’t reflect upon me and my judgment.
Lloyd pushed on through my silence, knew me we well enough that he sighed through the phone as he offered advice. “Listen, Christian, I know this is rough on you, but with your history, you’re going to have to use this or you won’t have a leg to stand on. You had no contact with this child for five years, and that’s not going to sit very well with any judge that I know.”
I sat with my phone to my ear, saying nothing, having no idea how to proceed. The last thing I’d wanted to do was drag Elizabeth’s name through the mud, shed her in a negative light, and paint her as a bad mother, because I truly didn’t believe that she was. I just wanted mediation, a legal agreement saying I had some right to see my daughter.
“Chances are we’ll settle this thing out of court, and we may not even need to use this, but you have to have somewhere to start.” I knew he meant it as encouragement, but he really didn’t understand the consequences of what he was asking of me, because I knew giving the go ahead on this would seal our fate. Elizabeth would never forgive me, and I’d never be given another chance to prove to her how much I really loved her. It destroyed me to think of shutting that door forever, but the truth was she had broken my heart—had broken my daughter’s heart.
I didn’t want to break the promise I’d made to never put her through a custody battle, but I would never break the promise I’d made to Lizzie—that as long as I lived, I would never leave her.
Matthew’s and Mom’s voices played loudly in my mind, Give her time . . . give her time. I just didn’t know how much time I had left, how much longer I could tolerate watching my little girl suffer.
I raked a hand through my hair and slumped further onto the table. “Just . . . give me a couple of days, and I’ll let you know what I decide.”
~
Thursday night was fraught with nightmares I wasn’t entirely sure were dreamed as I wrestled with the decision that had to be made. I contended with the part of my heart that said I would wait for Elizabeth forever, the part that loved her so much it caused me physical pain.
I pushed that part aside as I rose from my bed Friday morning so fatigued and drained that I could barely stand. I went into the office in a haze with no idea how I would survive this, but knowing for Lizzie, I would let Elizabeth go.
By late afternoon, I felt myself ripping apart, coming unglued. The pain and guilt and anger I’d shouldered all week had become too much. The last bit of hope I’d held onto withered when I entered the hollow space of my condo. I shed my suit for jeans and a t-shirt, wishing for the Friday before when Lizzie and I had shopped and made plans, how she’d buzzed in excitement as I’d helped her dress for her mother’s birthday. It was the same night Elizabeth had agreed to go to New York with me—the night she held me in her arms at the foot of her staircase.
Instead, I sat on the couch with my phone in my hand, building up the nerve to make the call that would sever Elizabeth from my life forever. I looked out at the boats bobbing in the bay and pictured Lizzie’s face and hands pressed to the window, could hear her sweet voice as she counted them, and knew there was no other choice to make.
The light tapping at my door stopped me mid-dial. It was a tiny sound coming from low on the door—a knock I knew could come from no other person than the one I wanted most.
Crossing the room in two steps, I tore the door open. For a moment, I froze as I came to the realization that I wasn’t hallucinating and Lizzie and her mother were actually standing in my hallway. Lizzie stared up at me. She looked sick, her little body weakened with the wear of the week. Her deadened expression was gone, though, her cheeks pink and chapped and stained with tears. The emptiness had vanished from her eyes. In its place was both hope and despair. I lowered myself slowly, reached for her, and pulled her into my arms.
She wrapped her sweet arms around my neck and stuttered over the tears that began to fall, “Daddy.”
The emotions I’d repressed the entire week in my shocked grief now fell free in an overwhelming surge of relief, and I sobbed into her neck as she sobbed into mine. I chanted her name, hardly able to believe she was really here.
“Lizzie,” I said again as I pulled away just enough to see her and to wipe the tears from her cheeks. I held her face between my hands, probably a little too tight. “I missed you so much, baby girl. Do you understand how much I missed you?” I stressed the words, desperate for her to understand I’d never wanted this separation. She nodded and cried as she spoke in her soft angel’s voice, “I missed you too, Daddy.” She scraped the nails of her fingers against my skin, dug in, and hung on.
Exhaling heavy and deep, I brought her against my chest and she locked herself to my neck. I squeezed her with one arm around her waist and a palm on the back of her head, looking up at Elizabeth over Lizzie’s shoulder.
I was almost shocked to see she looked like death, as if she’d been to Hell and taken me with her—the fatigue, worry, and hurt marring her face the perfect partner to mine. Her jaw quivered and shook from where she stood, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She swallowed and looked away as tears streamed down her face.
I stood and pulled my daughter up with me. Lizzie latched her legs around my waist just as tightly as she wound her arms around my neck, whimpering as if she were terrified I might let her go. I shushed her, ran my hand through her hair, and promised she wasn’t going anywhere—that I wasn’t going anywhere. I did not intend to let her out of my sight anytime soon.
I turned and left the door wide open. Elizabeth could stay or she could go. At this point, I couldn’t bring myself to care. The only thing that mattered right then was the shaking little girl in my arms.
I carried Lizzie across the room to the adjoining kitchen and rested her on the counter, the distance of the large room and my back to Elizabeth our only privacy. I didn’t go far, just inched back enough so I could drink in her eyes, read her expression, and understand what she felt. With her hands in mine, I asked her, “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
Were any of us okay?
Would we ever be?
Lizzie shed a new round of tears, trembled under my hands, and said, “You left me, Daddy . . . I was so scared you might never come back.” I had no idea how we would ever be all right or if I could ever forgive Elizabeth for what she’d done.
I pressed my lips to her head, smoothed away the matted locks of hair sticking to her cheeks. “I’d never let that happen, princess.”
I held her there for the longest time, and while she cried a week’s worth of tears out against my shirt, I murmured every reassurance I could find. I told her that I had been thinking of her every second, promised her that no matter what, her mother and I would make sure this never happened again.
I felt Elizabeth’s movement from behind, the sound of the door close, and the soft shuffle of her steps over the hardwood floor. When her weight settled on my leather couch, I knew she had chosen to stay.
Honestly, I had no idea what to do with her as she sat silently in my living room, had no idea whether I wanted to scream at her or thank her, whether I should tell her to leave or her beg her to stay.
When Lizzie finally settled down, I pulled away and smiled at her, touched her nose in a playful way, desperate for some sort of normalcy with my daughter. “Are you hungry, baby girl?”
She nodded and smiled a real smile of tiny gapped teeth and dimples.
“Come here.” I helped her from the counter and led her to the refrigerator. There was little there, mostly delivery leftovers I’d ordered and hadn’t been able to stomach over the last week. In the microwave, we heated up orange chicken and rice from the Chinese place down the street while we shared small smiles and tender embraces that still bore the sadness of our separation. I fixed her a plate and set it in front of her. Kissing her on top of her head, I whispered, “Here you go, sweetheart.”
She grinned up at me. “Thanks, Daddy.”
We ate together side-by-side with my arm wrapped possessively over her shoulder. We sat with our backs to Elizabeth because I wasn’t ready to face her any more than she was ready to face me. Between bites, Lizzie and I murmured words of love and encouragement to each other and little things I hoped would restore her confidence. She’d smile up at me while she chewed, though I could still sense her wariness in the way she clung to the hem of my shirt and watched me as if I might suddenly disappear.
I swallowed down the anger it provoked, reminding myself that I had to accept the fact that part of this had been my fault too.
Lizzie ate her entire plate plus a bowl of vanilla ice cream that had been left over from the last dinner we’d shared here when we’d laughed and made sundaes. She fed me little bites with her spoon and giggled, and for the first time, I smiled, unrestrained and uninhibited as I leaned in to tickle her tummy.
“I love you so much, Lizzie.”
She climbed onto my lap, kissed my cheek. “I love you even more, Daddy.”
I laughed with the game she wanted to play, knowing I had already won because there were no bounds to how much I loved my child, but teased and poked her belly anyway. “Nu-uh, I love you more.”
“Well, I love you this much, Daddy.” She spread her tiny arms wide and I wrapped her in mine.
~
I flipped off the light switch in the small second bedroom. When I had bought this place, I could never have imagined it would eventually become Lizzie’s room. There was a warm glow resonating through my body, a peace that she finally was here. I’d lain beside her until I was sure she was in a deep sleep, sure that she felt safe and loved and secure. When the fists curled in my shirt finally loosened and her soft breaths spread out in an even rhythm over my face, I’d slowly risen from the tiny twin bed, pulled the covers up to her chin, and kissed her for what seemed the millionth time that day. I would have been content to watch her sleep all night, but it was time to confront what was waiting for me in the other room.
At the end of the hall, I stopped and looked out to where Elizabeth sat at one end of the couch in the muted light of my living room. Her back was to me, though I saw her face reflected in the darkened panes of the windows—so sad and forever beautiful.
I swallowed, and she looked up and caught me staring at her in the glass—so incredibly sad. I wanted to wipe her sadness away, but I now doubted that I ever could.
I moved to the opposite end of the couch, sat on the edge of the cushion, and slouched over my thighs with my hands dangling between my knees. There was so much to say, but I had no idea where we’d ever begin, and I feared that this may very well be the end. Minutes passed by while nothing was said, the room quiet except for the sound of our breathing in the sadness and apprehension that hung stagnant in the air.
“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.”
My hands found her hips, and I kissed her gently as I edged her back into the muted light of her room. Our movements were slow, tender, and adoring. Standing in the middle of the room, we slowly undressed each other.
Carefully, I picked her up and cradled her in my arms, laid her down on her bed—our bed.
My condo had been put on the market a couple of weeks before and we’d live here until Elizabeth’s house sold. We both wanted something similar, a comfortable home where Lizzie could run and play, but closer to our beach and a couple of rooms larger so we could fill them with a brother or sister or two. My spirit soared as I thought of an addition to this family, as I thought of watching Elizabeth’s belly grow with another child, of standing by her side and being there when it was brought into this world. I could only imagine the doting big sister Lizzie would be, her amazement at a new life, the wonder that would fill her eyes.
That would have to wait, though. Elizabeth and I would marry this summer, and we needed to take time for the three of us to learn how to be the family we were always supposed to be before we added to it.
I stared down at where I’d laid Elizabeth on our bed, the curves of her naked body fully exposed and entrusted to me. Her body was thinner than what I had known before, the cut of her legs and shoulders defined, though her stomach was no longer perfectly flat and small, silvered lines were barely visible on her pelvis where Lizzie had permanently left her mark.
Love and devotion pumped through my veins as she so freely bared herself to me.
“You are so beautiful, Elizabeth.”
She gazed up at me, her eyes damp and steeped in emotion. She extended her hand and beckoned me to her.
I climbed onto the bed, hovered over her with my hands cradling each side of her head, and dipped down to kiss her deeply. Her hands were firm and like fire as they moved up my back and down over my sides.
I pulled away to whisper her name, “Elizabeth.” I moved to kiss her over her heart and murmured, “Thank you.” Once again, I found her mouth and lowered myself down to her. I wrapped her up in my arms, chest to chest, skin to skin, rested on my elbows so I could hold her precious face between my hands. I pushed her hair away from her face and let it billow out over her pillow, stunned again by her beauty. My eyes bore into hers, seeking understanding, praying that she fully and finally believed. “I love you so much, Elizabeth.”
She brought a trembling hand up to my face, ran her fingertips over my lips, her ring shimmering prominent and proud, and whispered, “I know.” Her eyes glistened as I smiled softly down at her and pressed a closed-mouthed kiss against the sweetness of her lips, brought her palm to my face, and kissed her there. Her heart pounded against my chest as I shifted and settled between her legs. Her breaths came short and rapid, the pulse in her neck drumming under my hands. Swallowing, I gripped her shoulders and slowly slid into her body—made us one. Her mouth dropped open in a soundless gasp, her fingers burrowed in the skin of my back. For a few moments, we remained still, locked to each other, body and soul, our eyes intense and filled with this desire that had never escaped us, brimming with a love that should have died in its affliction, but had only seemed to grow.
Elizabeth raked her fingers up my back and to my shoulders, setting me aflame and in motion. I moved in her slow and hard as she rose to meet me with shallow moans and murmurs of love, our bodies speaking of unshakable commitment and eternal faithfulness, a reverent consummation.
Never would I take what I’d been given for granted. I’d never look at her through indifferent eyes, listen to her fears and worries with distant ears, or touch her with impassive hands. Elizabeth was a gift and Lizzie was my treasure. I would adore my family until the day I died.
No longer would I live in regret, striving to make up for what I’d done. I’d live for the day, each one set out and purposed to be the best father and husband I could be. And no matter what life brought our way, I would never walk away.
~
The plane sat at the end of the runway, rumbled and whined as its engines wound and roared. Lizzie sat beside me, her body vibrating with both excitement and anxiety of the unknown. Her eyes were consuming as she looked up at me with trust through her fear. I extended my hand, palm up, and she placed her tiny hand in mine, one that now bore a delicate gold ring. While Elizabeth and I had made promises to each other last night, this morning we had made promises to our daughter.
As the plane barreled down the runway, I clasped my hand around Lizzie’s and grinned down at her while she smiled anxiously up at me. Elizabeth rested her head on my shoulder and her left hand on my chest, watching the vibrant diamond as it danced. She smiled over at Lizzie and then up at me. I brushed my lips across her forehead and couldn’t contain the smile on my face.
We sped, lifted and dipped, and ascended toward the sky. Lizzie giggled with the sensation, looked back over at us with wide eyes, and said, “Here we go!”
I squeezed my daughter’s hand.
Here we go.