Taylor parks curbside and immediately jumps out the driver's door in order to reach me before I can open my own door. I manage a tight smile which he returns with something akin to amusement. The moment I walked out the door of the club, he was waiting beside a familiar black Audi SUV and refused to hear me when I told him I could get back on my own. No doubt he did this under orders from Christian; how could I have possibly forgotten that his control-freakishness knows no bounds? In the end, I decided it was easier to just accept the ride; I had other things to worry about, anyway.

"Thank you for the ride, Taylor," I say gratefully.

I swear he actually winks at me. "My pleasure, Miss Steele," he says, nodding respectively. "Have a good evening."

On the way up to my room, I think about what just happened at the club with Christian—what I very nearly blurted out for no other reason than his beseeching gaze had me under his spell yet again. My mother's timing was phenomenal; telling Christian he's a father in the middle of a loud, crowded nightclub isn't exactly how I pictured that conversation going. It's not that I don't want to tell him, but more that I worry about his response. I don't want to tell him only to have him feel obligated to do something for us. That wouldn't do any of us any favors.

This is the best chance you've had in a year to tell him, my subconscious comments. Don't let it pass you by...

I take that advice to heart, knowing that telling him is the right thing to do. He may resent me, even hate me, but he deserves to know he has a son, and our son deserves to have his father know he exists.

I suddenly ache for the pre-Christian Grey days when my biggest concern was final exams and finding a job in Seattle after graduation. I'd been so oblivious to everything around me before I met him and though it was a lonely existence at times, but I didn't have to wonder how to handle things like this...

Upon entering my room, I know immediately why my mother called me back. Caleb is screaming bloody murder and she is trying and failing to console him. I cross the room and take my son from her; his cries taper off until his little body stops heaving as he relaxes.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," my mom says. "I tried everything, but he just wouldn't calm down."

My mercurial little boy, I muse, looking down at his blue eyes and toothless smile. So much like his father... This thought wipes the smile from my face as I sit on the couch, rearrange my dress, and wait for him to latch on. "It's okay, Mom, really," I say. "I was thinking about leaving anyway."

She takes a seat across from us and eyes me carefully. "How'd it go?" she asks quietly.

I sigh. I'm still trying to figure that out myself. "It could have been worse, I suppose." I hesitate, focusing on Caleb. "I nearly told him. The words were on my tongue; I had Caleb's picture in my purse."

"But you didn't tell him."

I shake my head. "No. You called as I was taking a breath to tell him," I say with a wry smile. "And it's probably better that way. Of all the possible scenarios where I tell him, none of them occurred at a bar in a nightclub, however upscale the nightclub might be."

My mother smiles sympathetically. "Fair enough," she concedes. "Aside from Caleb, how do you feel about seeing Christian?"

"It was... nice," I answer, immediately smirking as I recall the last time I used the word "nice" in description of Christian Grey. "The attraction is still there—for both of us, I think. I don't think I've let myself understand how much I've missed him." It was almost as though our relationship from last year had been paused when I left and restarted the moment our eyes met this evening. "I want to tell him. This weekend. I just don't know how he'll take it."

"This is one of those things that is worth the risk, Ana," my mother says gently, trying to avoid sounding like she's lecturing me. "If you don't tell Christian and if you keep being afraid of his reaction, what will you tell your son when he's old enough to start asking questions about his father?"

I shake my head. "I don't know," I admit in a whisper. Caleb has finished feeding and I watch his eyes close as I sit back on the couch and fixing my dress. Over the last year, I haven't spent much time filling in the gaps of exactly what happened between Christian and me to my mother. There is no doubt in my mind that if she knew the real reason I left him in the first place, she wouldn't be championing for me to tell him. And in that same vein, while I think Christian would be a fabulous father if given the opportunity, I do still worry about his lifestyle. I'm not sure it's something to raise a kid in and if he's still contracting subs...

I shiver, refusing to let myself think about it anymore. "I'll figure it out," I whisper, more to myself and Caleb than to my mother. "I promise I'll figure it out."

Smiling sadly, my mother stands, crossing the room to kiss my head, then her grandson's. "I know you will, baby girl. In the meantime, you two get some sleep. If you don't mind, I think Caleb and I might make a trip out to Montesano to see Ray tomorrow."

"Of course," I agree immediately. "Just remember to take the bottles of breast milk."

With a wink, my mother retreats into her room, leaving me with quality time with my boy and musing about the current state of my life. Never in a million years did I ever imagine I'd be a young single mother with a newborn baby. I'd always been so determined to not follow in my mother's footsteps in that regard. She always told me she wanted me to go to college, get a job, and enjoy life before I settled down and started a family. It's not that I regret having Caleb—I could never do that—but there are days I wish things were a little different, that he waited to come along for a few years. This is a stressful twenty-four hour job and the only time I get help is when my mother and Bob offer to watch him for an evening so I can have some time for myself. I know it will only get more demanding as time goes on and I desperately wish I had someone to share it with. As it is, I'm the only witness for all of Caleb's first as they come along—the first time I laid eyes on him at the hospital; the day I brought him home to my apartment; the first time he slept through the entire night. I'll be the only one to hear his first word, see him take his first step...

It doesn't have to be that way, my subconscious tells me, sounding uncharacteristically gentle. And you'll only know how things might turn out if you tell Christian about his son.

I startle at the soft knock on the door. Luckily, once Caleb is asleep, not much can wake him, even his overly jumpy mother. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I assume Kate finally received the text message I sent her when I bailed tonight. "Coming," I call towards the door, detouring to put Caleb down again. I probably should have realized something was off when I didn't hear the knocking for a second time—Kate is impatient at the best of times and will continue knocking on a door until it's fully opened. But I'm tired and strung out emotionally, and my brain isn't working on full capacity, so when the door is open and I find myself looking right at Christian Grey, the only thing I'm able to do is gape at him.

"Hi, Ana," he whispers with an uncertain smile on his lips.

"What are you doing here?" I blurt.

He raises an eyebrow. "I wanted to ensure you're okay after the way you left the club. I was worried about you," he says softly.

I swallow the emotion trying to push its way up through my body. "Oh," I say dumbly. "Well, thank you for your concern, but I'm fine."

For the first time all evening, I see him as the man I first met when I interviewed him for the student paper. He raises an eyebrow at me, looking exasperated. "Ana, don't do this," he says quietly, shaking his head slightly. "You know fucking well why I'm here; I want to talk to you. I have been waiting to talk to you for a year; don't think for a moment I have any intention of letting you slip through my fingers again without even speaking to me."

For the record, I didn't think that for even a moment... "Christian, I would like to talk to you—there are some things you need to know—but right now isn't the best time..."

He looks confused and the second he opens his mouth to speak, Caleb wakes and begins to cry. I feel the blood drain from my body as I watch Christian's eyes widen. "What's that?" he asks suspiciously.

I can't find any words to form a response, not even one that asks him to just leave and I'll call him tomorrow. Caleb's cries grow more urgent and if I don't do something soon, he'll wake my mother. Considering Christian's position in the doorframe, one foot out to stop me from slamming the door in his face, I know he's not going to just walk away. Resigned, I turn away from Christian and rush to pick up my son, knowing full well he's going to follow me. Nothing I can do about it now...

"Hey, baby boy," I murmur as I pick him up. "Why the tears?"

Christian gasps behind me and I do my best to ignore it for the moment as I calm my son down again. It's a full five minutes before he allows me to put him back to bed and I finally turn to face Christian. There is no way I can categorize the expression on his face right now—it's anger, confusion, fear, longing, and understanding all rolled into one. His eyes are locked on Caleb, not missing the slightest detail about him. Eventually he manages to look at me again, his jaw tense. That is definitely anger. "Something you wish to tell me, Miss Steele?" he asks darkly. It's the tone I recall him using the couple times in his playroom. It still sets my blood on fire.

Focus, Steele! "Christian, I..." Now that we're about to have this conversation, I realize I have no idea how to complete my sentence.

"Is he mine?" he asks quietly, his expression remaining expertly blank.

I manage a nod and watch his eyes close tightly as though he's in pain. When he opens them again, he fists his hair and turns away from me, but not before I see the wild look in his eyes, a sign that he's about to lose his precious control.

"FUCK!" he exclaims, spinning around to face me again. "Ana, please tell me this isn't happening."

I feel tears building up in my eyes—on the spectrum of how I thought he would take the news of being a father, this is on the other end than the one I'd hoped for. "Christian, please..." I plead.

"Please what?" he snarls. "Please let you explain why, after a year of not seeing or hearing from you at all, you come here with a kid? Yes, please, Anastasia, explain away."

I'm speechless. This was what I was so afraid of—his temper. The longer I fight to come up with a response, the more impatient he becomes before throwing his hands up. He glances once more in Caleb's direction, his cold eyes darting back to me for a fraction of a second. "Fuck this," he mutters, turning on his heel and stomping out of the room.

Frozen to the spot, it takes me nearly five minutes to realize I'm curled up on the floor and my mother has her arms around me, rocking me back and forth, shushing me as I cry.


FUCK!

Of all the things I thought might happen when I visited Ana tonight, this wasn't even close to being in the realm of possibility. I suppose it goes a long way to explain some of her behavior last year, but what I can't seem to grasp is why I'm just now finding out about this.

A child.

I can barely think through the haze of confusion, anger, and the hint of betrayal that's peeking through. How can a person hide a secret like this from somebody else?

A copper-haired child.

At any point in the last year, she could have called me, emailed me to tell me about this, and she did nothing.

A copper-haired child with Ana's blue eyes.

I have a son.

Just thinking the words make my legs weak. I'm far from stupid; I never would have made it this far in my life otherwise. But even with all my intelligence, I can't figure out how this is possible. I used a condom with her every time until we were in Georgia and she was starting her birth control pills. Again, I'm no fool; I know condoms aren't 100% reliable, but I've never had this happen to me. To be honest, if this was something that would happen, I'd expect Elliot to be one going through it.

Obviously a condom failed at some point—when? The child couldn't be more than three or four months old and counting back doesn't give me much in way of an answer. Since the first time she knowingly spent the night with me, we were at it like rabbits some days and the time period is brief—only a few weeks or so between the first time we met and the moment I watched her walk out of my life. I slump against the elevator wall as it takes me down to the lobby. All the fight has left my body and I am clueless about how I should proceed. A part of me feels guilty for leaving Ana the way I did when the entire reason for me coming here was to spend time with her, talk to her even if nothing more happened between us.

Taylor jumps from his seat in the car in a rush to open my door for me and he actually stumbles slightly as he takes in my expression. "Everything alright, sir?" he asks tentatively.

"No," I answer curtly. "Get Welch on the phone. I want medical records pulled for Anastasia Steele sometime between three and four months ago. I assume the hospital will be in Savannah, but if not, expand the search."

Taylor's brow furrows. "Yes, sir," he says hesitantly. "I'll get right on it."

On the drive back to Escala, I tune out Taylor's conversation with Welch and instead stare out into the dark night. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Ana clearly had her reasons for not telling me about the child, but now that I know, does she expect me to be in their lives or leave them alone? Which option would I prefer?

It shocks me that I'm actually weighing both equally carefully. Am I really considering the possibility of accepting this situation with open arms? If it were any other woman, I would know the unequivocal answer; but this isn't any other woman. This is Anastasia, the girl who has haunted my thoughts for a year. I told her once I would take her however I could get her and I'm finding that philosophy still holds true. If I want to be with Ana, of course I will have to accept the child—our child —despite how terrified I am at the prospect of being a father.

On the other hand, what the fuck do I know about being a father? My hobbies include whipping brown-haired girls when the mood strikes me; not exactly a family activity, is it?

But when was the last time you had a sub? my mind asks me. Do you even remember her name?

I struggle to recall the answers—it's going on four months, give or take a few weeks, and her name was... My brow furrows. Shit. Sally? Lisa? Allison? Yeah, I have no idea, which only proves how futile my attempts to rid my system of Ana in the first place had been.

What I have to decide right here, right now is how badly I want Ana back in my life. Am I ready to cede enough of my control in order to raise a child?

What the fuck am I thinking? The only thing I'm ready for right this second is several glasses of hard liquor to keep me from doing something really stupid tonight. Given the shock I just received, I think I'm entitled to a little numbness for awhile...


If it wasn't for the fact that Kate would hunt me down and rip me apart with her bare hands, I would have packed my belongings and left on the first flight out of Seattle this morning. I've had to keep reminding myself I'm here for her and her big day; that's the only thing that should be important right now.

But of course it's not. I spent what was left of the night replaying Christian's reaction in my mind and realizing I've fucked up. I should have told him the minute I found out I was pregnant. So why didn't I? The list of answers to that question is endless and range from uncertainty about keeping the baby in the very beginning to not wanting his negative reaction to affect me and our son. It's my job to protect Caleb from the world and that includes a father who may not want a thing to do with him. More than once I thought about how it would be so easy to ask Christian for child support—it's not like his checkbook is hurting—but I've always dismissed the idea. If Christian really wants nothing to do with us, then I'll find a way forward without him just as my mom did with me. I may not have had the best upbringing possible, but it was the best she could provide and I'm beyond grateful to her for that.

I told her as much this morning as I helped her pack Caleb in the car she rented for the daytrip to Montesano and Ray, and in return, she told me how proud she is of me and that if Christian doesn't want us, it's his loss. He's the one who will live out his life without knowing what he missed out on, without seeing his son grow up. I may not know Christian Grey as well as I hoped I would when we first met, but I know him well enough that as the years go on, he will have several regrets and the biggest one will be not knowing Caleb.

What a mess...

"Ana! Over here!"

I blink rapidly as I enter the restaurant overlooking the Puget Sound where I'm meeting the wedding party for breakfast. I groan out loud, wishing I'd thought to ask the cab driver to stop at a Starbucks on the way here; Mia is way too bubbly this morning... "Hi, everyone," I murmur, taking my seat beside Kate. I notice immediately Christian isn't here.

"Ana, you haven't seen Christian, have you?" Elliot asks, leaning across his fiancée to ask the question, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Kate rolls her eyes and slaps him lightly on the head. "Ow..." He rubs the spot, but won't be deterred. "He said he was coming to see you last night and we haven't heard anything from him since he left the club."

Kate looks at me questioningly. Apparently Christian's late night visit to my hotel is news to her. "Christian came to see you?" she whispers excitedly.

I avert my gaze, grabbing the virgin mimosa Kate ordered for me. "Yes," I answer. "But he didn't stay long." I hold her eyes, hoping to convey the message that I'd rather not talk about it in front of everyone else. She smiles sympathetically, rubs my shoulder, and goes back to teasing her fiancé. Looking for a distraction, I let my eyes travel around the table, surprised to find Mia and Ethan huddled close together. I remember Kate mentioning a while ago that the pair of them met at some benefit thrown by the Greys. They're cute together, though, and I'm happy to see it. I try not to linger on the thought that if Christian and I hadn't gotten together, not only would Mia and Ethan not have met, but Kate and Elliot wouldn't be getting married this weekend.

Two out of three ain't bad...

The only people at this table who know what the last year has been like for me are Kate and Ethan. Kate for obvious reasons, Ethan because he tagged along with Kate when she came to visit me towards the end of my pregnancy. To say he was shocked is an understatement, but he promised not to tell anybody. Since Mia hasn't pounced on me, demanding pictures of her nephew, I assume he's followed through on that promise. He catches my eyes from across the table and gives me a reassuring wink and smile that I actually return genuinely.

"Holy shit, is he hung over?"

I turn towards Elliot when he speaks, then follow his gaze, knowing exactly who I will find approaching us. I've never seen Christian drink more than a few glasses of wine in the time we were together and I recall very clearly his opinion on my drinking habits, so seeing him now wearing sunglasses, old jeans, a white linen shirt, and an unshaven jaw is a new sight for me. And a hot one. Really, really hot. The man should be illegal in all fifty states looking like that...

Mia and Elliot are openly staring at their brother and I get the impression this is something even they don't often see. "What the hell, bro?" Elliot asks as Christian takes the chair beside him.

"Sorry," Christian murmurs, removing his sunglasses. "I didn't get much sleep last night..." His eyes dart to mine and I gasp at the emotion I see. It's as though he's silently pleading for me to forgive him for his behavior last night. I give him a tight smile that he tries to return and we both turn away at the same time for different conversations.


When I woke up this morning, I had the worst headache of my life. I didn't immediately remember what got me into this state to begin with. It wasn't until I was in the shower hoping to scrub the misery from my body that I remembered a dream I had last night that still leaves me shaken and uncertain.

In the dream, I watched from a distance as a small boy with unruly copper-colored hair ran through a meadow of flowers shrieking and laughing happily. I started chasing the boy around at his urging to play with him and at some point, I found myself on a picnic blanket next to a very pregnant Anastasia who looked between me and the little boy with an expression that was nothing short of euphoria and the longer I dreamed, the more I began to feel the same. It felt right when so much of my life hasn't and I don't particularly want to give up that image or feeling. I have a lot to make up for and if I don't start soon, I stand to lose more than I ever thought possible.


Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far! I'm glad people seem to be enjoying so far. I'll try to update as often as I can! Thanks!