Chapter Six: Buried Secrets
I immediately tell Kate what transpired between me and Christian, and she immediately springs into action. She formally kidnaps me from Theo's care the following afternoon to take me to the mall, and although I cringe at what she is suggesting, I've put myself into her hands. We arrive and she pulls me from the car and takes me into the Gene Juarez Salon. Upon entering, she rattles off a whole bunch of things that absolutely need to be—apparently—done to me, and I find I do not know what she is talking about. I am taken from her less than comforting presence and whisked away to the back.
I am taken to a back room first, where my underarms, legs, eyebrows, and way upper thighs are waxed. Once various parts of me are justifiably on fire, I am then rubbed with various scented lotions in order to dull all of the pain and inflammation. I am then pulled to the front, where my hair is washed, conditioned, and then submerged in some weird-smelling liquid. When I give a confused look to the woman, she smiles.
"Don't worry, sweetie. We're not changing anything. It's to highlight and accentuate the natural color of your hair."
I nod, knowing that I must allow her to do her job, although I wished that I knew what was really happening here. After that treatment is finished, she blow dries my hair and flat-irons it, the curls disappearing out of thin air. My hands and feet are then washed, lotioned, the nails buffed, before an attractive red is chosen for both. Then, makeup is given, and, by the time I'm finished, I'm embarrassed because Kate has paid for everything.
Kate then pulls me into the mall, and heads straight to the only store that I think would be appropriate for wherever Christian is taking me—Nordstrom. Upon entering, Kate announces our purpose, and whispers to them where Christian is taking me, something I don't hear at all, and I am left to feel annoyed that I don't know important information directly involving me. I am then laden down with various dresses, before I'm promptly gently shoved into a dressing room and told to try things on.
I settle on a black one which will hug my figure, because who doesn't look good in black, really, and it makes me feel the most secure. Even Kate, who always tells me she thinks I dress far too conservatively for work, allows her eyes to pop when she sees my selection. Once I find some basic black heels, I know that I'm fully prepared for that evening. I gently nudge Kate out of the way at the counter—I wholly intend to pay for myself.
Just as I think we're about to leave, Kate yanks me into one more store—Alana, an antique jewelry store that my mother loves. I myself love their pieces, but cannot afford them on my measly salary, and would never spend any extra money there. Nevertheless, my best friend pulls me inside the place, and bids me to choose something. I start to protest at this but then my eyes fall upon a pendant—simple, golden, circular—that the saleslady says was a watch cover, but has been converted into a pendant, and I find myself inexplicably drawn to it.
Kate mentions her interest, and asks the price, although I really think nothing of it, as she had been gazing at a ruby pendant, surrounded by flawlessly-cut diamonds. I nearly die on the spot when I hear the price, and attempt to leave the store—which is nearly six hundred dollars, and ultimately think that Kate is getting herself a pick-me-up for taking me shopping that afternoon, and I couldn't say I blamed her. However, I watch as Kate waves it away, immediately handing over her credit card and her driver's license, and it is then that I see that she is attempting to buy the thing that I'd been looking at, and not her. Heart in my throat, I tell Kate—after the pendant is outfitted with another hundred-dollar chain—that I fully intend to pay her back, in full, possibly with interest.
"You will do no such thing, Anastasia Steele," she replies, paying for it as we leave the store. "I see something between you and Christian that I've never seen with you or any man. You're falling for each other, I know it."
My cheeks heat as I look away. "We've had one date…"
"And lots of conversation," she replies as we get into her car.
"He hasn't even kissed me yet…"
"And you should eat that up," she tells me as we pull out of the parking lot. "He seems like a rare exception when it comes to guys. He doesn't seem into it for the sex."
"Gee, thanks," I grumble as we leave the Northgate area.
"Oh, you know what I mean," she replies with a small giggle my way. "I mean, I know you sense that Christian seems a little old-fashioned..."
"Is that a bad thing?" I ask her.
Kate immediately shakes her head. "Not for you, no, especially after all that's happened, and you're doubly fragile right now," she tells me. "I think that he doesn't want to rush into anything, which is altogether pleasant, given your...inexperience when it comes to the opposite sex. I mean, it's almost as if he doesn't want sex right away—or, if he does, he's really going in for all the wooing you want…"
"Sex is off the table," I reply as we cross the intersection that acts as a border between the Northgate and the Greenwood areas.
She nods, gripping the steering wheel slightly. "Right," she replies.
"For now," I say softly.
. . .
I am back at my house at six-thirty. Christian texts me to tell me he is on his way, and that he will be there in fifteen minutes. I hurry to my bedroom, quickly taking out my new purchases and dressing, and managing to find a decent pair of pantyhose. I buckle my heels and stare at myself in the mirror, pursing my lips slightly. Knees clacking together, I barely hear the doorbell ring and scarcely hear my mother answering it a moment later.
"Oh, and you must be Christian," she says.
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Steele."
"I'll let her know you're here," my mother says calmly. "Ray, come out of your office to greet Christian, please."
"Mr. Steele, pleasure to meet you," Christian says a moment later.
"Christian," my father says as I walk out of my bedroom and onto the landing. "I hear you may have saved my daughter's life."
Christian chuckles a bit at that. "Anastasia did all the saving, Mr. Steele. I simply wished to make sure she was all right."
"Oh Ana," my mother whispers, slightly gushing as she meets me on the balcony, her eyes twinkling in delight. "He's adorable!"
I grinned at her, although "adorable" was never a word I'd use for Christian—gorgeous, or breathtakingly handsome fit the bill at bit better. "Just hope Dad likes him as much as you seem to do, Mama," I reply as she takes my arm and walks with me down the stairs. "Hello, there, Dad. Christian, are those for me?" I ask, my eyes lighting up at the sight of the red roses, my favorite flower.
Christian smiles at me then, looking me up and down, and gasps slightly. "Well, yes, it would indeed appear so." He seems to separate the flowers, when I notice that the seemingly giant bouquet is simply two dozen bouquets. "One is for your mother, the other is for you. And these, sir," he says, taking out a decent-sized, smooth, ribboned box, "are for you. Theo mentioned you loved chocolate."
"That's my boy," Dad says fondly, taking the box as my mother takes the flowers. "I know you'll take good care of my daughter."
"I will, sir," Christian replies, taking my arm and leading me out.
I am relieved when neither of them question where we are headed as we walk down the garden path and towards his car. We get into that car of his again and drive away from Sunset Hill and in the direction of the Ballard Bridge. We drive past Market Street, and soon we are on Fifteenth Avenue, which takes us directly to the Ballard Bridge. We drive across it, passed Chinook's, and I remember mentally to give Tabby a call to keep her in the loop about the investigation.
We continue on, passed a couple of underpasses, past a street called Dravus and passed the exit for West Seattle. We go under the Magnolia Bridge and soon we are back in Downtown. We get past the semi-seedy area, where it connects to Queen Anne, and soon we are back at the heart of it all. We go passed the street that The Electric Violin is on, and I deliberately don't look down it, getting a sick feeling in my stomach.
We get into the neighborhood of valet parking and I'm not surprised at this point, for Christian Grey must make good bank with all of his successful cases, and the popularity he receives because of the verdicts was a clear indication of that, although I knew it was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to him. We go down Fourth Avenue again, and then we are outside The Cobb Building, and Christian gets out of the car, goes around to let me out, and hands over the keys to the valet, handing over a twenty-dollar bill like its loose change. He then takes my arm and takes me in, smiling in a friendly manner to the maître d.
"My usual table, please, Mr. Clayton," he says politely.
"Of course, Mr. Grey," Mr. Clayton replies, gathering up two menus and leading us towards the dining room. We continue through that room for some reason, and soon we are standing in a private room entirely. The doors proclaimed it "The Board Room", and I am suddenly aware that I am in a private dining room. Fine carpeting decorates the floor and Christian and I sit at a not-overtly-large round table in the center of the room; while the room can hold a rather large circular table, it appears as if it has been removed. Fine wood paneling decorates the walls, with the walls being a striking red color. There is also a sideboard which holds an impressive replica of a white sailboat.
Mr. Clayton pulls my chair out in a gentleman-like manner for me and hands over a menu, and turns to Christian, familiarity in his body language. "Will you be having a wine this evening, Mr. Grey?" he asks.
"I'll have a glass of your finest champagne, and sparkling cider for my date," he says, with a sweet wink at me.
"Your date isn't…?" he asks, and I assume they are old friends.
Silently, I remove my driver's license from my wallet, without being asked, and flash a quick smile to Mr. Clayton. "Oh, I'm of age, I assure you, Mr. Clayton," I reply, my voice as smooth as silk, "I just don't like alcohol."
"Very good… Miss Steele," he says, looking from my license to me. "You're not Dr. Raymond Steele's daughter, are you?"
I nod. "I am."
"I'm Paul, Gail's older brother. Gail Taylor. I'm the co-owner," he says, puffing himself up a little, so as he resembles a burgundy cardinal.
"Very nice to meet you, Paul," I reply.
"And you, Miss Steele, I am simply delighted," he replies, shooting me a smile before slipping out of the room.
"He's very charming," I say.
"Mrs. Taylor is one of your father's patients?"
I nod, pleased and altogether touched that Christian is taking an apparent interest in the various individuals in my life. "Yes, and only child. I've known her since I was a little girl. I'm friends with her daughter, Sophie—the one who mentioned what happened between her and Ethan. Our other star witness."
Christian grips the table's edge when Ethan is mentioned. He lowers his eyes and I tense a little when I notice his jaw setting in contempt. "I might have to go out and get a lawyer myself…" He mutters, not letting go of the table so that I know its cloth will have creases in it by the end of the night.
"And why is that?" I ask, sipping my water slowly and attempting to remain nonchalant about the whole thing.
"Because, Anastasia, I am not often a reckless man, but, as you said, I've become entirely incensed, or so it would seem," he tells me, obviously attempting to keep his temper. "I cannot stand by and allow Ethan to walk about, a free man. God, I mean part of me wants to go out and clobber him. I mean, what if I just—"
"Christian!" I say, raising up my hand upwards, almost as if to ward off the knight in him. "No, absolutely not. I could never be with a man who threatened violence. Yes, I may want to give Ethan a punch or two, but think about what I did last Friday—about what you did. About what we did together."
He nods, sure of himself now. "Yes, I know. I'm sorry, Ana." He reaches forward and takes my hand. "You're right. How I behaved just now was inappropriate and wrong."
I smile at him. "It is all right. I know you mean well."
We turn at the sound of the door opening, two ice buckets on a small, silver table, being pushed by Paul. He smiles at the pair of us, hand clasped, and wheels the table towards the other side of the table. Also on the table is a pair of elegant crystal wine glasses, which Paul raises momentarily to pour Christian's champagne and my sparkling cider into. He places the green bottles into the respective ice buckets and then departs, giving us time to mull over our drinks and to consider what to order as he slips from the room.
"What are you thinking of?" Christian asks, nodding to the menu.
"The roast chicken, with the baked potato and a Caesar salad," I reply, my mouth watering at the very mention of it.
Christian chuckles indulgently at my reply. "Are you deliberately choosing the most inexpensive main course?" he asks. "Don't you want a steak?"
"I like steak, but I love chicken," I say.
"No lamb?"
"I don't like lamb."
"Lobster?"
I shrug. "I don't eat fish."
"Wha—? No fish?!" he demands.
I laugh; I've had this conversation more than once. I've lived in Seattle my whole life and everyone is shocked when I tell them this. My mother and I swore off fish long ago; Theo only occasionally ate it and my dad was in love with the stuff. Kate wasn't too fond of it either—she absolutely despised salmon, which certainly made grocery shopping easier. For most people, if they liked it, it was an act of treason or something pertaining to that because I didn't like it; this mainly had to do with its rancid smell, plus the way it looked. I mean, really, how could I, a Seattleite, born and raised, not like fish, when so many of the premiere restaurants in the area served it?
"I hate it," I reply. "The smell, the taste…it's a cold, wet thing before it's cooked, and I hate cold wet things," I admit a little sheepishly to him. "Even the way it looks. It just makes me ill when it's served with its eyeball still in its head like that. It's unnatural, that's what it is. But I do like calamari…"
Christian laughs at that. "All right, all right. I'll get a steak then, so as not to make you feel uncomfortable."
Paul returns a few moments later and asks us in that cordial manner of his what we'd like to begin our meal with. Christian throws me a smile and orders the calamari, along with the French onion soup for himself, and the starter Caesar salad for me. We then decide to order our main courses, which we do. Paul recommends that, if we do decide on dessert—he slides a miniature menu onto our ice bucket table—that we should order it when we are halfway done with our main course.
"What made you decide to go into teaching, really and truly?" Christian asks as soon as Paul slips out again.
I shrug. "To be honest, it was the children. I love children."
Christian looks slightly uncomfortable. "You want children?"
I decide to ignore the look he gives me. "Someday," I say quietly, "when I meet the right guy and it works out for the both of us. But, really, the kids. I mean, I always wanted more siblings, but my parents were so busy with their respective careers that they just didn't have time for more than the two of us."
"Does your mother still work?" Christian asks.
I nod, smiling. "She does, and very well. She's an event coordinator, so she makes her own hours for the most part. Her company is called Perfect Encore. She's been going at it for almost thirty years, and it does wonders."
Christian slaps his knee. "No way! Your mom is Carlotta Marie!"
I laugh. "Yes."
Christian looks altogether amazed by this turn of events. "My mother and little sister, Mia, absolutely love her! Whenever they want to get an event by her, they always get that consultant of hers—Rupert something. He's very…enthusiastic."
I chuckle at that as I envision the man who was once Theo's and my legal guardian, should something happen to our parents. "Rupert Johnson and his partner Eric Smyth are old family friends of ours," I explained. "My mom met them over thirty years ago, and they were having far too many tequilas in Hawaii when they came up with the idea for the lucrative event-planning business. My mother's parents are millionaires and she asked them to invest and well, Perfect Encore was born."
"How did she meet your dad?" he wants to know.
"My mom met him while planning my Aunt Samantha's wedding. She was the planner, he was the best man… It was held up in Port Townsend, which is where they live now. Right on the water—totally beautiful, I've seen the pictures. It's this small, beautiful, Victorian seaside town with less than ten thousand people. Someday, I want to move out there permanently and teach children…and write…"
Paul comes in with my salad and Christian's soup, before flashing us both a kind smile before he slips out again. We eat in silence for a couple of minutes, savoring the gourmet food. Another question comes to Christian and he manages to get my attention without being rude.
"Your teaching… You went to the University of Washington?"
I shake my head at him. "No, Theo went to the University of Washington. I went to Western Washington University, just to get out of the mold a bit. Plus, they're one of the top places in the area to get a teaching degree."
"And Theo?"
I smiled. "Theo left high school mid-way during sophomore year and went onto university. He got into their medical program after just one year, which was truly fascinating to me. He then managed to graduate from the program in just two years, so when I graduated high school, he'd graduated college. It involved him not having a part-time job, and he absolutely had to have a car due to the long hours he put into the school. Theo was just so dedicated that he would run on almost no sleep and one night, while driving home, he crashed the car and went right through the windshield."
Christian choked on his soup. "Who found him?"
I lowered my eyes. "I found him," I replied. "I was out late with Kate that night. We were at some party that she wanted to go to, and I didn't..." I break off for a moment, knowing that the next part of the story could sound completely insane. "At the party, I was trying to clean something up when I was suddenly knocked into the refreshment table, and I went right into the glass punch bowl..."
"Seriously?"
I nodded. "Seriously. I told Kate that I needed to get to the hospital, and I was clutching my right hand, which I shoved in harms' way. I was bleeding, and sober, so Kate wrapped up my hand and we got back to my car. On the drive to the hospital, I saw Theo on the side of the road and screamed so loudly that Kate could've crashed my car. We called 911 and they came and took us both in, and when they found out we were twins, but at different places, they thought it was crazy that he injured his left hand and I my right..."
"What happened?" he asked.
I sigh. "His left hand is...well, it was barely mobile for a time and it was touch and go for a while. The doctor's thought he was going to lose it—he did lose his right knee cap. It's also why he's so quick tempered—some lobe got damaged in the accident."
"And with you?" Christian wanted to know.
"My hand miraculously healed," I replied. "I had a few bruises from that night—mainly in my efforts to evade Ethan," I admit, shrugging my shoulders, and Christian nearly bends his soup spoon in half. "The cuts were virtually clean, and once the glass was removed, the stitches were given and I was all right."
"And afterwards?"
"Let's just say that Theo was in a bit of a rut until he got a scholarship to New York, to Columbia, and went. It took him until just this summer, and he did some travelling around Europe to take his mind off the accident."
"Like where?" Christian asks.
"His ultimate dream was to go to Spain," I say. "He always wanted to drink a mojito in Milan and get a suntan."
Christian makes a face at my pathetic attempt at a poem.
"I know, I know," I say, "but that was a direct quote."
"So you say that Theo's dream was to go to Spain?"
I nodded. "Yes, with utmost assurance, I can say so," I replied. "I can honestly say that was his dream since we saw the map of the world in elementary school. He would constantly point to various locations and ask the teacher about them. He'd do that every year, with every teacher, and ask about something else every year. Our first year, it was architecture in Greece; our second year, it was about food in France; our third year, it was art in Italy, and then, by that time, we'd gone on to middle school, so he couldn't, in his own words, 'bother those poor teachers anymore'."
"What about your dream?"
I blinked. "My dream?"
"About where to travel," Christian explains.
I laugh at that. "Oh. My dream. London," I reply.
"London?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.
"I desperately want to go to London, Christian. Ever since I was twelve or thirteen, I've just been captivated and entranced by it. Oh, the stories, the wonderful people, the words, the music, their lack of good food… I want to go there so desperately…"
Christian laughs, reaching across the table and taking my hand in his for the second time that evening. "I will make you a promise. If you come to my family's tea party this weekend, and bring your mother—whom my mother and sister want so desperately to meet—I'll take you to London for Christmas."
"London? Christmas? Oh, no!" I cry, shaking my head.
"Don't you want to go?"
"Yes, I…" I shake my head, surprised at this apparent generosity and knowing that I had to be polite because of it. "Desperately, Christian, desperately, but it can't be at Christmas. I have traditions to keep up, here in Seattle… I couldn't go anywhere at that time…"
Christian smiles. "I understand. Family things?"
I smile. "Yes, and various teaching functions leading up to the holidays… And besides, it'd be too soon, you know?"
He strokes my hand with his thumb, sending sparks and shivers all through me. "Then how about in the summer?"
I nod. "The summer?" I ask. "Perhaps, Christian. Perhaps."
. . .
We finish our main courses and have ordered dessert. I order the crème brulee and Christian orders the flourless chocolate espresso cake. We finish our meal with a few minutes to spare before Paul arrives with our dessert. He takes our meal plates and then withdraws, leaving our wonderful desserts before us. Christian and I take our first bite, mine onto spoon and his onto fork, and gently press them together before partaking.
I shut my eyes in a moment of ecstasy and giggle slightly for a moment before opening them and eating some more. We chat a little about this and that, and then manage to work Elena into the conversation. Elena expected us in her office at noon tomorrow, and hoped that Tabby was available to sit in on the meeting, for at two we'd have our first meeting with the co-council to develop potential strategy.
"When is Elena's husband going in to arrest him?" I ask.
"Technically that's confidential information, Ana, but I'll break the code once just to prepare you," he says, knowing that it was in my best interests to know this information, especially for my safety. "They've decided to arrest him tomorrow, around eleven. I guess I should have found out when The Electric Violin opens… I usually come there after I've finished work and I'm always working late…"
"It doesn't open until seven p.m., but Ethan's there every morning from ten until two to go over the books, clean up, and let the staff in. The staff then arrives at two o'clock to get the place ready for opening."
"Good. Elena says that the guy that Kate got in touch with at the camera company is going to provide a live feed into the office," Christian says informatively. "If you can put on a good enough show in the courtroom to be sure that they won't suspect that you've seen it before, you can watch."
I feel sick in the pit of my stomach, but know I must watch. "Yes, I'll bet you money that I can put on a convincing performance."
Christian smiles, taking my hand in his again for a moment. He eats a few more forkfuls of his dessert, and I do the same with mine. Paul arrives a few minutes later with the bill, and Christian immediately takes out his credit card and places it into the folder before Paul whisks it away, and I tap my fingers upon my knees, determined to say nothing.
"So what does your sister do with her life?" I ask.
"Mia is in Italy studying to be a top-notch chef," he replies.
"Italy!" I cry, grinning at the very thought of it. "That's wonderful. I'll bet it's beautiful there, and to be there for school... What part is she in?"
"Florence, at the Florence Culinary Art School."
"And she's taking time off?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "No. She keeps a very rigorous sleeping schedule, and since she started at sixteen, she is able to take more time. She is in class Monday through Wednesday, and then takes a red eye from Florence to here, and then returns on a red eye on Sunday night."
"So she'll be back for the picnic?"
Christian nodded at that. "Yes, in a few hours, actually." He checks his watch. "Well, it's almost eleven. We've been here a while."
I smile. I don't want it to end, but that's not something you're supposed to say on the second date, even after everything Christian and I had been through together. Paul comes back in good time and hands over the bill folder to Christian, who takes the provided pen and leaves what looks to be a thirty-dollar tip before getting to his feet. I take his arm and we follow Paul out to the main entrance.
"I've had them pull your car around."
"Thank you, Paul," he says.
"It was lovely to formally meet you," I say. "I think we must have seen each other at your sister's Christmas parties."
"Indeed, that must have been it," Paul says. "Please send your mother and father my best."
"I will," I reply. "Goodnight." I slip outside after Christian, who hands over another twenty to the valet, who looks as if he is walking on air. I shoot him a smile as Christian opens the passenger door for me, and I shut it myself as he walks around the car, sliding in next to me with a grin.
He then drives away from the restaurant, and soon we find ourselves on Aurora Avenue, heading north, back to my parent's house. I shake my head, and, almost as if he knows what I am thinking, he says that Theo texted him the address, and I find I am smiling again at the notion that my twin actually cared. Theo either approved of my dating Christian or he didn't think it was any of his business.
We come to a red light on Aurora Avenue and Christian briefly drums his hands on the steering wheel, leading me to questioning him if he'd ever considered being a drummer, or some other kind of musician. "So, with things improving with Kate, when do you think you'll go back to the condo?" he asks, after laughing.
I shrug at that, completely unsure. "I don't know. She hasn't asked me back yet. She pays sixty percent of the rent and she found the place and lived there for over a year before I even thought about moving in. Technically, it's more her space than mine."
"You're close with your parents."
It's not a question. "Well, yes. After Theo moved to New York, they took three months out of every year to travel, so those six years Theo was gone, I spent a great deal of time with them. It was like being an only child…"
We get off Aurora Avenue at North Eighty-Fifth Street and make a left, going up a rather steep hill before coming to a stop at the Linden Avenue stoplight. Traffic is light at this hour, and the wait is barely thirty seconds. We seem to glide through the intersection and continue on the drive, passing two different elementary schools—one Catholic, one public—and continue driving. We pass a Chinese church on our right and then go up another hill, coming to a stop, eventually, at a light, back on Fifteenth Avenue. We go through this light slowly, due to the busy intersection, and soon we are past Twenty-Fourth Avenue, and back in the exclusive-sounding Sunset Hill area.
We are soon on my parent's street, and then we are back at the house. I see a light on in my parent's garage, and I immediately know that they are not home, and wonder where they've gone so late at night. The light is out in Theo's garage, strangely enough, so I know he will be inside when I get in. Christian parks in the driveway, turning off the car before turning to look at me, and takes my hand.
"I had a really good time."
I smile up at him. "So did I. Thank you."
His hand passes up my wrist, arm, and shoulder before coming to rest on my cheek, cupping it slightly. He gives me a smile before leaning in, and, at the halfway point, stops. "Ana, I..." He whispered, and hesitated for a moment.
"Yes?" I asked.
His mouth set then, and he looked unsure of himself. "I've been dying to kiss you for days," he said then, and I felt myself flutter inside at those words. "I've been wanting to kiss you, and do god knows what else, but now, I don't think I can stop myself..."
"Then don't," I say quietly, letting him know that I wanted him to touch me, to confirm whatever this was between us. "Don't stop yourself, Christian."
He slowly closes the distance between us, and takes my lips gently in his own. I want to obliterate all I see and hear, so I lean in closer to him, and find myself opening my mouth under his, our gasps co-mingling for us both to hear definitively. He shifts away in brief surprise before turning his head slightly, one hand going around my neck and holding me to him, his hands never rough. His tongue enters the situation, and I find myself working on automatic pilot. I must force myself to go half the speed I normally would when I put my arms around his neck. When he reaches downward, towards the small of my back, I immediately pull away.
"I'm sorry, I…"
He shakes his head. "No, I should apologize. I went too far."
I sigh. "Christian…" I whisper then, knowing that he has to know everything, and that I have to be truthful, if we are to go in this direction, and I hope he still has a desire to do so after I tell him the truth. "I should tell you. I was a virgin…"
At once, his gaze darkens. "You were a virgin before Ethan…?"
"Yeah," I nod.
He turns away from me then, swearing under his breath as hits his head once on his steering wheel. "Damn that bastard," he says through his teeth. "I'm so sorry…"
"Hey," I say, touching his cheek. "It's okay, really. I know you want what's best for me, and it's kind of exciting to see a hot guy acting this way all because of me, due to the fact that I'm not used to it…"
He smiles at that. "You think I'm hot?"
"Do I even have to answer that question?"
"No," he replies, chuckling.
And then we are kissing again, and, this time, I don't want to stop, any of it, but I also don't want to get caught having likely embarrassing car sex in my parent's driveway. "I thought that sex was off the table, but now…"
He sighs. "I understand." Looking around like he has some great secret, he grins at me. "My parent's house is a mansion… We'll be at the tea party all of Sunday, so if we wanted to slip away to the guest wing, nobody would miss us for a moment."
I bit my lip slightly, in an effort to contain my desire. "I think I would rather do it in your childhood bedroom," I say before I can stop myself, and my inner goddess is staring at me then, open-mouthed. "I think it would be…hotter."
"I like the way you think," he says, kissing me again. He then gets out of the car and comes around to let me out. When he takes my hand and pulls me up, lengthwise against him, he kisses me again, and he holds me along the length of his body, and I feel safe and secure in his sculpted arms. Then he walks me to the door, and does so a third time. "Tell Theo and Kate that they're welcome at the tea party as well."
"They'll appreciate that. Thank you."
"I want my parents to meet your parents, and your brother, and Kate. I think Kate and Mia would get along famously."
"Soph's husband Boyce is due in town on Thursday," I begin.
"Invite them, too! Elena and her husband Eric are coming as well," he tells me then. "My mother doesn't approve of mixing business with pleasure, but maybe we can figure out more strategy on that day."
I smile. "That sounds wonderful." I let him kiss me again before I tear myself away from him and go into the house. I lock the door behind me for good measure before dashing up the stairs and going into my bedroom. I open the window, the white lace curtains billowing around me, and wave him off as he drives around the corner and out of sight.
Hopping down from the window seat, I shut the window and slip into the bathroom. I remove the dress, necklace, pantyhose, shoes, and makeup before slipping into a pair of flannel pants and a tank top. I check on Tess, who is sleeping in her bed, and kiss her head before opening my bedroom door. The light is on underneath Theo's door, so I go down the hall and tap on it. I don't hear anything, so I think he fell asleep or something. Thinking nothing of it, I turn the handle and scream at what I see.
"Theo, Kate, oh my god!" I scream.
There they are, in front of me, making love. Kate immediately screams as well before Theo gets off of her and yanks up the bedsheet—thankfully I didn't see anything. I immediately turn away, but the image is forever engrained on my memory.
"Wow, um, okay, so glad to see you're alive. Um, I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow. Have a good night…" I awkwardly reach behind me and shut the door before smacking my head repeatedly as I run back up the hall. "Gross, gross, gross! Ew, ew, ew!" I run downstairs to the kitchen and get a glass of water, and decide that going to bed is no longer an option for me, especially right now, and attempt to get the images out of my head.
I drift into the living room then, a glass of water in tow, and turn on the television, wanting to find something mindless to get me out of the funk. I turn it on to Family Guy, hoping that the cartoon characters, snappy dialogue, and me mentally cursing the FCC for bleeping out the curse words will distract me from what I just saw, and what I should have never seen, at any given time, in my life. Thankfully it is one of my favorite episodes, the season eight premiere called Road to Multiverse, where Brian (the family dog) and Stewie (the family baby) go on a journey to multiple universes.
Tess manages to find me upon the couch and curls up in my lap, completing the tranquility of the picture. I hear some footsteps coming down the stairs, and some hushed tones before the front door closes. Then a single pair of footsteps comes towards me, and I see Theo standing there. He sits beside me, and Tess walks over to his lap.
"Hey," he says to her before looking up at me. "Hey…"
I make an uncomfortable face. "I'm really sorry…"
"No, I… I thought you'd be out later."
I sigh. "Well…"
"What are you watching?"
I nod at the television. "Distractions…"
Theo looks up at the T.V. "Oh, I love this one…" He pays attention briefly to Tess until some commercials come on—fast food chains, mostly. "Did you have something you wanted to talk to me about?"
"Christian's mom is having a tea party on Sunday and you're all invited."
"Sounds fun." He continued stroking Tess, almost as if contemplating what to say next. I am shocked at his reply, and force myself to say something.
"I'm surprised that you would consider the institution of a tea party fun," I reply softly, and find I am utterly confused. "I mean, frilly dresses, tiny sandwiches, sticking up your pinky… I mean, it's not exactly what I'd call male entertainment…"
He shrugs. "All in a day's work to keep a family from squabbling…"
I turn back to the T.V. "Right," I reply.
"How did it go tonight?"
"Fine. Christian is a gentleman."
"I know," Theo replies, and I know he is smiling. "And Kate is a lady. That's what everyone needs in a partner these days."
"That, and trust, loyalty, and honesty," I tell him, my voice firm. "You need all three of those things to function well in a relationship with a partner, Theo. If you don't have any of those things, there is no relationship—there can be no relationship. Politeness is just a bonus at this point, I guess…"
He smiles and nudges my shoulder. "Don't sell yourself short, Ana, please. If Christian isn't the one, who cares?"
"Um, I would?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "What I'm saying is, if he isn't the one, so what? 'The one' will definitely come along sooner or later, Ana."
I sigh and shake my head. "I just hope by that time Tess doesn't have an assortment of siblings and I'm confined to grandmotherly attire and living in a house which smells like cat piss. I want…"
He nods. "I know what you want. And that's natural. And maybe you'll get it with Christian, maybe not, but the point is, you'll have it with someone."
"At this point, I want it with him," I reply, and, when I turn to Theo, even he doesn't look surprised at my declaration.
