Take This Regret by A. L. Jackson Page A

Each beat of my heart pounded harder the closer I got. By the time I turned onto the narrow street lined with smal houses, I could hardly breathe. The ability left me altogether when I came upon the address.
    Standing in the driveway was my daughter in Matthew’s arms, the same child I had fal en in love with the day before. She was hugging him fiercely. I was overcome with jealousy and loss as I watched the scene in front of me.
    I fought those emotions, reminding myself that this was my fault. Quickly, though, my jealousy became confusion as I watched Matthew set the child down and pul Elizabeth into a hug before placing an unassuming kiss against her cheek. That confusion only grew when Matthew turned to the same woman from yesterday, took her hand, and led her to his car.
    Quickly, I pul ed to the curb across the street, making sure two cars parked on the road obstructed the view of my car.
    I sat, perplexed as I witnessed Matthew lean across the console of his car and kiss the girl after she sat down in the passenger seat. The kiss was not obscene, but clearly one shared between lovers. Then the two drove away and left me struggling to make sense of what I had just seen.
    My heart sank as shock shifted to realization. No . I shook my head, biting the inside of my mouth and drawing blood. “No,” I wheezed out, this time aloud. I squeezed my eyes shut, wil ing myself to just breathe before I passed out.
    Matthew was not with Elizabeth. I slammed my fist down against my leg, my head fil ed with accusations as I silently cursed myself for being so incredibly stupid. He was supposed to be with her, loving her, caring for her. I literal y felt sick with the hatred that coursed through me, that judgment directed only at myself.
    Opening my eyes, I looked back toward the driveway.
    A lump formed in my throat when I gazed at Elizabeth. She was so beautiful—too beautiful. My body burned for the only woman I had ever loved. Why had I ever been so stupid, so selfish? As if anything could have been more important than she was.
    Elizabeth stroked her hand through our daughter’s hair, the love apparent in the gentle expression on her face as she touched the child’s cheek. I could wait no longer. I stepped from my car and cal ed to her from across the street.

    “Elizabeth.”
    A chil ran down my spine as his voice penetrated my ears, seeping through my body. The sound came like warmth rushing through my veins, leaving a shock of cold as it passed. My head snapped up, meeting his face, his blue eyes intense, emotion pouring from them as he looked from Lizzie to me. It was al I could do to keep from fal ing to the ground as I felt the world I had built come crashing down around me.
    Lizzie’s words were barely distinguishable as she tugged on my arm, attempting to get my attention.
    “Momma, it’s the nice man.” Al I could think about was that Christian had returned, here to squash the last piece of my heart. With one hand, I clutched my stomach that twisted in knots, the other pressed over my mouth to cover the cry rattling around in my throat. I found myself unable to look away as I stared at Christian through hot, angry tears.
    Surely, he could see it on my face and in my eyes, the love for him I stil held there like some foolish girl awaiting the return of her long lost lover. It enraged me that he stil had that kind of control over me. But this was not about my broken heart. This was about the little girl pul ing on my arm, trying once again to get my attention.
    I had to protect her. “Lizzie, go inside.” When I spoke, Christian turned his attention from me and gazed down at Lizzie with adoration. Why was he looking at her like that? Like she meant everything . With eyes alight, Lizzie stared up at him, grinning as if any second she would run across the street and into his arms.
    I could not let this happen.
    “Lizzie . . . go inside, now.”
    “But, Momma . . .”
    “Now!” I cringed, hating the way I