If Forever Comes (22 page)

Read If Forever Comes Online

Authors: A. L. Jackson

Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary

BOOK: If Forever Comes
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Mine was low, but held all the sting. “I know
you didn’t.”

Agony contorted his face.

“Just go.” This time I choked, a sob breaking
free because I couldn’t understand what was coming from me, but I
couldn’t stop it. I was so hurt, so hurt. “I don’t want you
here.”

He dropped his head and shook it, harsh and
severe, as if he were grappling to make sense of what I had said.
When he raised his attention back to me, fury flamed in his
eyes.

“That’s what you want?” he shouted as he flung
his hand out in my direction.

Raging, he stormed to the closet and tore the
door open. It slammed back against the wall. Christian fumbled
around inside and threw a suitcase into the middle of the bedroom
floor. It tumbled, the lid flopping open as it settled. He began
ripping shirts from their hangers and throwing them inside. He
stalked back out, fisting a handful of shirts out in front of
him.

“Is this what you want, Elizabeth? You want me
to leave? You think I don’t understand what you’re feeling? You
think you’re the only one who has to go through this? You think
you’re the only person who’s hurting? Then fine, do it
alone.”

I was gasping, crying, because his words flew
out at me in a constant assault. I couldn’t stop the slaughter, the
way they took hold and destroyed the last piece of me.

He jerked the bottom dresser drawer open,
pulled all his jeans out and shoved them into the suitcase. He
glanced up at me as he ripped the zipper closed.

“I thought better of you than this, Elizabeth,
but I was wrong. You are the most selfish person I’ve ever
met.”

I felt sick, an ache I couldn’t understand
gutting me. Still the words trembled from my mouth. “I hate you.” I
said it through choked tears.

I’d told him it before. This was the first
time he looked like he believed it.

It was the first time I thought maybe I meant
it.

He leveled his gaze on me as he hefted the
suitcase up by the handle. “Yeah, that’s pretty
obvious.”

He started across the floor. Pausing in the
doorway, he looked at me from over his shoulder. His throat bobbed
heavily as he swallowed.

“Think whatever you want, Elizabeth, but I
loved her. I loved her with all my life.”

I watched him go, and I didn’t try to stop
him.

Instead, I wept, clutching my blanket to my
face as I crumbled. My ears stung as I listened to him talking, his
voice giving instructions to Lizzie. I couldn’t make them out. They
were muffled as I buried myself deeper in the refuge of the bed. I
begged for the darkness that sleep would bring.

All I wanted was to go there.

All I wanted was to escape.

 

Present Day

 

I desperately sucked at the stifled air. It
hurt as it expanded in my lungs. Everything still hurt so badly. I
missed her. That hollow void ached for her, and I knew it always
would. I pressed the blanket to my face. Confused tears fell when I
realized I found some kind of comfort in it. It was small, but just
like the urge to fill the void had flickered this morning, it was
there.

I rubbed the satiny edge of the blanket
against my cheek, the one that Claire had once held Christian in.
Memories of him ignited in every one of my senses.

Affection sparked. I pushed it down, stamped
it out. Forgiving him, moving on from this, seemed
impossible.

It just hurt too much.

That day, Christian had gone, and he’d taken
Lizzie with him. At the time, I’d been relieved, relieved that my
little girl had been led out my door because I didn’t have the
strength to be the parent she needed me to be. Afterward, I’d slept
for three straight days. I had never fully awakened until I’d been
roused by Matthew sitting on the side of my bed, running his hand
through my matted hair as he coaxed me from sleep. He said
Christian had asked him to come check on me.

Christian had facilitated it then, Lizzie
coming over to spend time with me. Through Matthew, he’d said
Lizzie needed to see me. It was like I was being granted
visitation, because I wasn’t competent to take care of my own
daughter. Knowing Lizzie would be coming home had been the only
thing that had finally forced me out of bed.

We slowly slipped into a routine. Lizzie would
be at my house for a couple of days and then she’d spend a couple
at Christian’s, though when school had started again, she began
spending more time at my place. Still, Christian had insisted he
come and pick her up each morning for school.

For my daughter, I’d done my best to be up as
much as I could when she was here, though half the time, I felt
only partially conscious. The rest of the time, I slept
away.

Guilt throbbed within me. For all these
months, I’d felt a sense of relief while Lizzie was gone, relieved
because I could just succumb.

I realized this morning, in the vacant
emptiness of my room, that I was no longer relieved.

I missed her, and she needed me.

I will try
.

Lifting my face to the ceiling, where the
single bulb glared, I inhaled deeply as tears continued to stream
from my eyes.

And for the first time in weeks, I wanted
something other than to sleep.

I wanted to breathe.

 

 

Present Day, Early
October

 

On Friday morning, I pulled into Elizabeth’s
driveway to pick Lizzie up for school and put the car in park.
Still gripping the steering wheel, I stared at nothing through the
windshield. Agitation curled through my consciousness. My leg
bounced. God, I was about to lose it.

After what Lizzie had revealed to me Monday
night, a sense of desperation had taken over. I’d been backed
against a wall. Pinned as I watched the clock spin away. I was
running out of time. I knew it. Felt it. If I didn’t do something,
I was really going to lose Elizabeth. The woman I would love for
all my life. The woman who belonged to me, even if she no longer
knew how to give herself to me.

Tuesday night, after I knew Lizzie would be in
bed, I came here. I paced outside Elizabeth’s door like some kind
of obsessed stalker. But I was obsessed, obsessed with taking back
my family. I couldn’t let them slip away. That realization had
given me the nerve to ring the doorbell. I knew she was standing on
the other side of the door. I knew she was there, willing me to
leave. And I just stood there. Waiting. Waiting for her. The way
I’d been waiting for her all these months.

The longest time passed before the door had
finally swung open. Her attention had been trained on the ground,
her hair falling all around her as she’d hidden her face from
me.

I’d stooped down and peered up at her, trying
to capture her gaze, to finally make her
see
. I needed her
to look, to
remember
.

I’d whispered her name.
Elizabeth
. In
her name was everything I felt, the devotion to her that would
forever consume my life, the wounds that still ached, and the
striking need to feel her touch that would never leave
me.

In it was all of my love.

God, how much did I love the broken woman
who’d stood in front of me?

For one second, she’d given in and had met my
gaze with a shakiness that wouldn’t seem to let her go.

Wide, intense eyes stared at me from across
her threshold. It was the shortest blip of time, but in it, we’d
been frozen, as if the lives we were supposed to be living played
in fast forward between us. Or maybe it was on rewind.

Just as soon as she opened her eyes to me,
they’d slammed closed, shut it off, blocked me out. She flinched
back, as if looking at me caused her physical pain.

Who knew one expression could cut me so
deep?

Still, I’d pressed on, pushed her. “We need to
talk,” I’d said, stretching out a hand that so desperately wanted
to touch her. But I’d held it back, knew I could only ask her for
so much.

“I can’t.” Her voice was laced in agony.
Apparently even that was asking her for too much.

But those two words had lacked all the venom
that had filled the last real interaction we’d had, even if the
result of them had still been brutal. Elizabeth, once again, shut
down my efforts.

Every spoken word since I first left her house
had been uttered with zero emotion, just plans made between us for
our daughter. Nothing more.

This had been more.

“Please,” I’d said with my heart feeling as if
the life was being squeezed out of it. “I can’t let us go,
Elizabeth. Talk to me. Tell me.”

She’d shaken her head, whispered, “I’m so
sorry.” Tears clogged the words, and she stumbled over a pained, “I
can’t.” Then she stepped back and closed her door.

I’d stood on the other side of it for minutes,
maybe hours, having no idea what direction to turn. Did I force
her, risk the possibility of things escalating, blowing up the way
they had the day I left? Did I risk having her
say
it,
Elizabeth telling me she no longer loved me?

But even if she said it, I wouldn’t believe
her.

I saw it in that one second she opened those
brown eyes to me. She still belonged to me. Even if she couldn’t
see it.

I exhaled, heavy and hard, shut off my car,
and climbed out. I plodded up her sidewalk and rang the
doorbell.

A few seconds later, the door swung open to
Elizabeth.

My breath caught.

It didn’t matter how many days I’d stood at
her door to pick up our daughter, it was always the
same.

Intense longing exploded at my ribs, something
that spoke of the regrets that would forever haunt my life, and the
hopes that still flamed for my future. Elizabeth was in every
single one of them.

Urges slammed me, ones that shouted for me to
reach out, to take her. To do
something
.

Instead, I stepped back, gave her the space
she demanded that was getting harder and harder to
afford.

“Good morning, Elizabeth,” I said, something
I’d done all week, something that felt like progress, even though
it was the most pathetic show of it.

At least I opened my mouth.

I bit back the incredulous laughter that
stirred in my chest.

Pathetic
was right.

I knew I had to do something, but I was pinned
against that wall, and I didn’t know how to break from it. How did
I push back? How did I mount a battle when she wouldn’t allow me
the chance to fight for her?

She cast me a wary glance. “Good morning,”
slipped from her cautious lips. Then she turned away, looked toward
the stairs, the way she did every morning. “Lizzie, sweetheart,
your daddy is here.”

“Coming.”

This morning, Lizzie immediately appeared, her
grin wider than I’d seen in so long. She rushed downstairs and ran
to throw her arms around me. “Good morning, Daddy!” Excitement
buzzed from her as she bounced.

A chuckle escaped me as I hugged her back.
“Well, isn’t someone happy this morning.”

She lifted that sweet face to me as she hugged
me around my waist. “I get to go to my first sleepover
tonight!”

Curious, I turned my attention to
Elizabeth.

She was smiling down at Lizzie. Really
smiling. Then she peeked up at me. “I was going to talk to you
about that this morning and make sure you were okay with it. Lizzie
was invited to spend the night at Adriana’s house tonight for her
birthday. I figured you wouldn’t mind since she was going to stay
here tonight anyway.”

Lizzie jumped up and down. “Oh please, Daddy…I
really really really wanna go!”

I laughed a little harder and ruffled a hand
in her hair. “Well, I guess if you really really really want to go,
I’ll have to let you,” I teased.

“Yay! Thank you, Daddy!”

She turned around and barreled into Elizabeth,
squeezing her around the waist in a fierce hug. “Thank you,
Mommy!”

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