"What?" I choke out, trying to cough out my wine.
Christian takes patient sips at his own drink as he waits for me to get over my coughing fit. Once I've passed the worst of it, he sets his wine glass on the table again, rests his elbows on his knees, and clasps his hands together as he stares at me through the dark. "You heard me, Ana," he says patiently. "When were you going to tell me about Thomas?"
"How do you..." I should probably already know the answer to my question. The man knew my bank account when we'd only known each other a matter of weeks.
"Teddy told me," Christian continues calmly. "When he was showing me his bedroom, he showed me a little toy car that Mommy's friend Thomas gave him the night he took Mommy and him out to dinner at some place with games. I didn't really understand the rest of what he said, mostly due to all the effort it was taking me not to punch a hole in the wall, but..." He shrugs.
Teddy. Of course. He's far too young for me to tell him not to tell his father certain things. And I wouldn't do that anyway. I will not use my son as a pawn in this.
"Is Thomas the one you told me about in Seattle?" Christian asks quietly.
"Yes," I reply, unable to look him in the eye for some reason. He nods. "I was going to tell you Christian, this weekend, probably tonight, but you've caught me a little off guard with this whole Lucy business."
"I know," Christian replies. "So you went out on a date with him?"
I nod. "Yes."
"And?"
Sighing, I take a sip of my wine. "And we had a lovely time. I wasn't able to find a trustworthy enough babysitter in time, so Teddy came with us." Christian is staring down at his hands when I look up at him and I have no idea what he's thinking or what he might do. "Christian, it was one date. I don't even know if we'll go out again—"
"Did you kiss him?" The question is asked so suddenly that I'm stunned into silence. I debate on how I should respond only a moment; I will not lie to him. He's done enough lying throughout our marriage for the both of us.
"Yes."
Even in the dark, I can see him flinch as though he's been struck. He's silent for a few moments before his next question. "Did you fuck him?"
"What?" I demand so loudly that I'm surprised my neighbors don't pop their heads out to tell me to keep it down.
Christian looks up at me, tears streaming down his face. "Did you fuck him?" he asks again.
Now I really have no idea how to respond. My first inclination is towards anger. After everything he's done, he dares ask me that question. Then it's sadness that he's reduced to crying. Throughout our marriage I've only seen him cry a handful of times, and most of them have been in the last year. Then it's pity and a multitude of other emotions, none of which I can give into if I want to get through this conversation in one piece. "No, Christian," I say as evenly as I can manage, "I did not fuck him. I wouldn't do that, especially not with my son in the same apartment."
This conversation is going nowhere. I'm angry about Lucy showing up at my husband's hotel room uninvited. I'm angry that my husband has taken this line of questioning about Thomas. I'm angry that I didn't get the chance to tell my husband about Thomas. Hell, I'm just angry. I drain my wine glass and stand with the intention of going inside, but once again, Christian's hand on my wrist stops me.
"Ana, where are you going?" he asks pleadingly.
"To bed, Christian," I tell him tiredly. "I'm tired, I'm angry, and I really don't see us getting anywhere productive tonight in our conversations."
He stands in front of me, resting his hands on my shoulders. "I'm sorry, Ana," he says.
"You're always sorry, Christian," I respond. With a sigh, I move forward, resting my forehead against his chest. Immediately, his arms are around me. "We both need sleep. We can continue this tomorrow... Oh, I haven't even asked how long you're staying..."
He stiffens a little. "Until Monday evening," he eventually responds.
I nod into his chest. "We'll talk more before you leave," I say quietly.
I feel him nod before resting his cheek against my hair. "I don't know if you had plans or not, but I've made arrangements for the three of us to go out and do some things. If you've got other plans..."
"No," I say quickly. "We don't have plans." I don't remember the last time he acted so nervous about making plans for his family to do anything, or when he asked my permission before telling me about his plans. "We're all yours."
A shadow passes over his face and he gives me a sad half-smile. "If only," he whispers before pressing a lingering kiss against my forehead, then pulls away from me. "Good night, Anastasia."
He's practically to the guest bedroom before I'm able to dislodge the lump in my throat to respond. "Good night, Christian."
Next morning, I'm out of bed early, long before sunrise, and I spent most of my night tossing and turning, my thoughts running circles around themselves. I hate the way Ana and I parted last night, but I can't think of a way we could have done things any differently. Between talking about Lucy and this Thomas fucker, both our emotions were heightened and our tempers were at a breaking point. I know goddamn well Ana was goading me into an argument, which is why I went to such pains to keep my temper in check when I started questioning her about Thomas.
The look on my son's face yesterday afternoon as he showed me the little car and the cheap little prizes he won when Thomas took him and Ana out was one of pure happiness. He told me all about the games and the dinner, and little unimportant things that surrounded that—like the flowers Thomas apparently brought my wife before their date. I located the flowers immediately after talking to Teddy. They were clearly cheap flowers he probably found at some little corner stand. The flowers I've given Ana over the years made those things look like weeds.
My brow furrows as I try to remember the last time I sent my wife flowers for an occasion other than her birthday, our anniversary, or begging her forgiveness. Of course Ana would fawn all over those flowers. They were simple. I remember coming to the apartment she and Kate shared and finding the deflated Charlie Tango balloon I sent her and how amused I was over how attached and possessive she was about it. I remember how happy it made her just to do some of the things I enjoyed—the gliding, sailing on The Grace—and it occurs to me that maybe the best way to win my wife back, to show her how much I love her and need her, would be to go back to the beginning. Take her out for something other than fundraisers and balls. If I'm to get her back, I need to do things right this time. I try to look at it like a business venture, but one with much more satisfying rewards if I'm able to close the deal.
I scoff at myself. When am I not able to close a deal when I really, really want it? I can do this. I can get my family back.
Now I'm thinking about it, I think I know why Ana didn't respond to the long email I sent her my first night in Germany. The last few years of our marriage have been full of empty words and promises. I haven't followed through on things the way I should have done. I can write her a novel length email telling her how sorry I am and how I plan to set things right, but she doesn't trust my words anymore, doesn't trust me anymore. Now there's a kick in the gut...The woman trusted me almost from the day we met and over the years I've slowly destroyed that with my behavior and lies. It's going to take a fucking act of congress for me to regain what I've lost.
And I'm starting today.
I get out of bed and shower quickly, then head out into the apartment, finding my son curled up on the couch watching television. Glancing over my shoulder, Ana's bedroom door is still shut, which means she's probably still asleep, which is perfect for what I have planned.
"Morning, baby boy," I say quietly, kneeling beside my son and pushing some of the hair off his forehead.
"Morning, Daddy," he replies tiredly, blinking his big blue eyes at me and smiling. I will never tire of that smile.
"How'd you sleep?"
"Good," he yawns.
I chuckle and stand up. "Come on, come help me make Mommy breakfast."
One of the expressions Teddy has learned from his mother is her skeptical raised eyebrow when I suggest doing something she knows is out of character for me, like cooking. "Why?" he asks in confusion.
"Because it would be nice," I explain. "Are you going to help me?"
He nods and slides off the couch, taking my hand and leading me into the kitchen where we go about gathering the necessary supplies for scrambled eggs, pancakes, and bacon. A couple years ago, for Ana's second mother's day, I asked Gail to teach me to cook my wife's favorite breakfast. It took nearly a month and me nearly burning down the house several times before I got the hang of it and Gail was comfortable leaving me alone with her kitchen, but by the time the day arrived, the meal came out perfectly. And the look on Ana's face when Teddy and I walked into the bedroom was absolutely priceless, especially since she was aware Gail had the weekend off and was visiting her sister. She was so happy that day, so grateful to me, and all I wanted to do was show her how much she meant to me, how much I appreciated her, how much I loved her for giving me everything I thought I'd never have.
Teddy is just putting the finishing touches on the plates and I'm searching for a tray or something that we can use to take breakfast to Ana in bed, when the woman herself emerges wrapped in a robe looking beautifully disheveled and frowning tiredly.
"What's this?" she asks almost in wonder.
I smile at her. "Breakfast," I state obviously. "Teddy and I thought you might enjoy it."
It takes her a moment, but eventually a slow smile begins to grow on her face until it reaches her eyes, which rest on me. I think she might actually cry. Over breakfast. Taking a deep breath, she walks over to the table and I pull her chair out for her and sit beside her with Teddy across from me and we begin to eat. "This is delicious, Christian," she says between bites of pancake. "Thank you."
"You're very welcome, Ana," I tell her quietly, my fingers twitching to rest over her hand. I somehow resist and go about eating my breakfast. Every few seconds, I feel Ana glancing at me, but every time I try to return the gaze, her eyes dart away from me and she blushes. We're been reduced to teenagers sneaking glances at one another during class; it's adorable.
Teddy and I clear the table once we've all finished, despite Ana's protests to help, and I send her off to get dressed for the day. While she's gone and Teddy's occupied, I call Taylor to arrange for a car for the day. Taylor promises to have it taken care of within the hour as well as confirming our plans for the day. I took care of the organizing and scheduling, but Taylor of course insisted on doing full security checks at every location. The visit from Lucy in Germany has shaken him more than he's willing to let on; she was able to get to me without any difficulty whatsoever and of course he blames himself, even though he was asleep at the time. I can't recall how many times he's apologized to me for giving into the basic human instinct to sleep. But to him, it's Leila all over again, only this time Lucy is a woman of means and won't make herself obvious by dressing in tatty clothing and letting herself fade away while she tries to get what she wants. I think that's what scares Taylor most: Lucy could easily disappear before we have a chance to get at her and the likelihood that she's out there somewhere, biding her time until I return to Seattle with her sights on Ana and Teddy.
And of course, that sets my own fear on its highest setting. I'm leaving Monday evening and my wife and son will be here alone. If something were to happen to them, it could be hours before I hear about it, and by the time I get back here...
Okay, I can't think about that. If I do, it'll only make things more difficult for all of us. I make a mental note to discuss the situation with Ana at some point today, maybe gently coax her into agreeing to a security detail. I'm fully aware this is where I've gone wrong in the past: rather than discussing something with her, I just do things without her knowledge, then she gets angry with me for not telling her why she has three men following her wherever she goes or why she's not allowed to drive herself anywhere.
See, I do think about things, and I am willing to change, even if she doesn't quite believe it yet. Maybe if I start with the small things I'll be able to convince her more easily about the bigger things.
"Are we ready?"
I look up from where I'm staring at my feet to find my wife dressed simply in jeans and a sweatshirt. I've never stopped believing she should always be in only the finest silks and satins, but she truly does look amazingly gorgeous however she decides to dress. She's blushing, which tells me I'm probably staring at her with darkened eyes and a practically drooling mouth, so I tear my gaze from her, clear my throat and stand up. "We are," I confirm. "Taylor should be downstairs with a car."
She raises an amused eyebrow. "Of course he is," she mutters before getting Teddy up and away from the television and convincing him to put away his toys so we can leave. "And where is it we're going exactly, Mr. Grey?"
I smirk at her. I do love it when she calls me Mr. Grey; she always seems to unintentionally inflect the term with a seductive tone. "It's a surprise, Mrs. Grey," I reply to her in my own unintentionally husky voice. It never ceases to amaze me the effect we seem to have on one another.
Oh fuck, she's biting her lip. I groan and she gasps, letting the lip slide through her teeth, and looks away from me. If I didn't know any better, I'd say we were flirting. That's got to be a good sign, right? I'll have her forgetting all about that Thomas fucker before lunchtime...
We're in the back of an SUV once again, being drive to God knows where—Christian still won't say, despite Teddy's repeated pleading for him to share. Finally Christian starts to give in a little bit and starts to drop hints to Teddy. I'm sitting in my seat with my hand covering the smirk on my face as I work out the hints within seconds, though it takes Teddy a while longer. Recognition finally strikes and his little face lights up, which of course put large smiles on my and Christian's faces; we love to see our boy happy.
The car pulls into the London Zoo and we pile out at the front of the gate. Teddy is begging to sit on his father's shoulders and Christian doesn't deny him. I find myself walking more closely beside my husband than I have in months and I can feel the heat from his body. Christian is trying so hard to make this weekend pleasant for all of us—just the fact that he made breakfast for me this morning, and it was actually edible, was one hell of a start. I'm not blind, though; I know he's trying to pretend everything is perfectly fine, and last night's conversation never happened, and I'm willing to play along with it for the day. I want Teddy to have a good day out with both of his parents, especially since I don't know how long it'll be before he has this again.
My conscience is eating at me again. Teddy deserves to be nearer to his father, and the rest of his family. He deserves to have his family whole, to not have his mother and father so torn from one another. I want him to have that and more, but I can't let him grow up in a home where his mother isn't happy—I know firsthand what that does to a child, watching its parent suffer. The self-esteem issues alone still haunt me, then the feeling of being unworthy of love even when it's handed to you on a silver platter. I want my son to experience love, true love, and I don't want that marred by memories of Christian and me being unable to be in each other's presence without tearing up or fighting.
"Hey."
My head snaps up to meet Christian's concerned gaze.
"Are you okay?" he asks quietly. Teddy is on his feet again, impatiently tugging on his father's hand to pull him towards the zoo.
I force myself to nod and smile. "Yes," I rasp out. "I'm fine."
He frowns, knowing full well I'm lying, but he won't call me out on it. Not right this minute, anyway. "Come on, then," he coaxes gently. He holds out his hand towards me uncertainly and I stare at it just as uncertainly. I want to take it, to feel his fingers close around mine, but I've hesitated too long: His hand drops to his side and a look of hurt and disappointment crosses his face as he turns away from me, leading the way towards the first exhibit Teddy wants to see.
Christian and I are becoming quite good at faking our happiness in front of our son. It's actually a little disconcerting, but at least he's able to enjoy his day. We move from exhibit to exhibit at Teddy's pace. Christian carries him on his shoulders so he can see into the different habitats, and he points out every animal with such excitement that we can't help but be put into good moods. By lunchtime, Christian and I are relaxed and laughing and teasing one another without hesitation. We have hamburgers and French fries at a picnic table underneath the shade of a large tree and when Teddy finishes his meal, he rushes off across the way to look at the giraffes, leaving Christian and me at the table to eat and keep an eye on him.
"I'd give anything to have this back," I hear Christian say wistfully.
I look over at him to find him watching me watching Teddy. I sigh. So much for a stress free day out. "So would I," I admit.
Immediately he is kneeling on the grass in front of me with his hands on my knees, looking up at me pleadingly. "So come home," he begs in a whisper. "Forget all of this and be my wife again. I'm trying to change, Ana, but I can't do it without you."
"It's not that easy, Christian," I tell him, shaking my head. "I know you're trying, and you have no idea what it means to me to see you trying so hard, but I've seen all this before, Christian. You change for a couple weeks, a couple months at most, but you always revert back to what caused the problem in the first place."
"But I won't," he insists emphatically. "Not this time. I've been blinded for years with the belief that there wasn't anything I could do that would make you leave me again. I took that and you for granted. I won't make that mistake again, Ana."
I give him a sad smile. "I wish I could believe that. I want to believe that. But I can't." I sigh, trying to think of a way to explain that I haven't used before. "Christian, we both made mistakes. I could have fought harder to keep our marriage happy enough that you weren't driven to another woman's arms. I could have made you listen to me when I realized what all our fighting was doing to me. Hell, I could have brought Elena up sooner and we could have had it out, and it would have been over. Instead, I kept everything bottled up until I saw that fucking video when everything blew up in my face. You may have been the one to have the affair, Christian, but we're both to blame for the state of our marriage. And until we both have a chance to come to terms with that and work on it individually, we can't fix what we broke."
He sighs heavily and lowers his head to rest in my lap. Automatically, my fingers run through his hair. He's going to need a haircut soon... "You sound like Flynn," he comments, his voice a little breathy as my fingers continue to move.
I smile. "Are you still seeing him?" I ask.
He shrugs. "On and off," he says, reluctantly lifting his head to look at me. "He's referred me to another therapist to deal with the affair. He thinks having a second opinion might help me understand why you left."
My eyes widen in surprise at the news, but of course, I'm distracted by his words. "You don't understand why I left?" I ask him incredulously. I thought my reasons were pretty cut and dry...
"No, I do understand," he tells me quickly. "But my trouble was more with understanding what the affair did to you. I knew it was wrong, I knew I shouldn't have done it, but at the same time, I thought I was entitled to having my wife at my side through everything, no matter what I did, and I couldn't wrap my head around why you didn't feel the same."
I have no words for this. I always knew he had a spoiled little boy side to him—Flynn's words from years ago about him having the emotional understanding and capacity of a teenager comes flooding back to me. It's maddening that even after all this time, that part of him hasn't changed one iota.
Before I can think of anything to say in response, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. Christian jumps back from my lap in surprise, making me grin at him. He sits back on his heels as I dig the phone from my jeans and look at the caller id. I inwardly sigh. Very interesting timing, Thomas... I press the talk button and stand up, moving away from Christian for a bit of privacy.
"Hello, Thomas," I say quietly, glancing over my shoulder to find Christian sitting at the picnic table again and watching me closely.
"Hi, Ana," he says warmly. "How's your weekend?"
"Oh, just fine," I tell him. "My husband is in town and we're at the zoo with Teddy..." I'm trying to keep my tone light so Christian doesn't suspect who I'm talking to, but judging by the tight line of his mouth, it's a pointless attempt.
"Ah, right," Thomas replies, sounding as though he just remembered Christian is visiting for the weekend and disappointed that I'm out spending the day with him. "Well, I won't keep you long. I've just been made aware of a benefit dinner tonight for some charity my family contributes to and I was wondering if you might like to join me. I understand if you'd rather not, especially with your husband visiting, but I would very much appreciate your company..."
I shoot a glance back to Christian. I'm torn. On the one hand, I could use an evening out, getting to know Thomas a bit more. On the other hand, the last thing I want to do right now is set off Christian's jealous side. It wouldn't really help my career if my husband punched my boss and gave him a broken nose, and I know Christian is capable of that. Then again, if Christian saw firsthand that I was serious about dating and trying things out with another man, maybe that would force him to the realization that things don't always go his way and it is possible for him to lose me.
"Tempting as that is, Thomas," I finally respond, "it's probably not a good idea right now. Another time perhaps?"
I can hear the disappointment in his voice that he's trying not to show. "Of course, Ana. I understand. I'll see you Monday morning, then?"
"Bright and early," I confirm. "Enjoy the benefit tonight."
He snorts a derisive laugh. "I'll do my best."
We say goodbye, I stow my phone back in my pocket, and turn back to find Christian's face set in stone as he watches me. "Sorry about that," I tell him, ignoring his glare.
"Who was it?" he asks coolly.
I raise my eyebrow at him. "A friend," I reply in the same tone.
"Thomas?" he spits out. "The fucker you went on a date with?"
Sighing, I shake my head. "Christian, that really is none of your concern."
"Everything you do is my concern, Anastasia," he flings back. "Besides, I thought we were being honest with each other."
Discreetly, I roll my eyes. "Fine," I say shortly. "If you really want to know, yes, it was Thomas. He was asking if I would go to some benefit with him this evening. I told him no."
His brow furrows in surprise as though he can't quite believe my words. "Why?"
"Because I don't want to make things worse between you and me. I'm not going to shove a new relationship with another man in your face, Christian," I tell him.
"So you'll just wait until I'm gone, then go out with him again?" he asks bitterly.
"Yes, that was the plan," I reply bluntly. "Look, we've been through this. Yes, I want to try to work things out between you and me, but I'm not going to stop living my life. If our marriage can't be saved, I don't want to look back and realize I could have had something with Thomas, but I threw it to the side because I'm concerned about your feelings. After all, you didn't really put my feelings into consideration when you started your affair..."
He has no response for that, but the hurt on his face is evident. Eventually he nods then busies himself cleaning up the leftovers from our lunch. "Come, Teddy is going to start getting restless to see the rest of the zoo soon..."
And with that statement, I think I've effectively ruined the rest of the afternoon. Christian hardly says a word to me. I know it's not fair to rub my not-quite-relationship with Thomas in his face, but at the same time, I gave him ample warning. I told him in Seattle that I'd met somebody. Last night I told him about our first date. It would be different if I'd agreed to going out with Thomas tonight; he'd have every right to sulk.
If this is the way things are going to be between us until he leaves on Monday, I'm almost tempted to call Thomas and tell him I've changed my mind. I won't, of course. Instead I put a smile on my face for my son's benefit and try to enjoy what's left of our day.
I am positively fucking livid right now, though I am trying to hide it from my son. The fact that this Thomas fucker has the balls to call my wife and ask her to some bullshit benefit is bad enough. But to hear her admit that she'll continue to date him once I'm gone...
I've only myself to blame for all of this. And she did warn me that she's met somebody. I just hoped maybe she was bluffing and that the date she'd gone on had been a one-time thing. Clearly that's not the case. By signing that separation agreement, I agreed to let Ana live her life, which means dating if that makes her happy. I'm not thrilled about it—obviously—and I'm sure I could raise the biggest fuss ever raised by telling her I didn't want her dating some asshole she only just met and involving my son. That is a concern for me; I don't know this Thomas. I don't know what his intentions are with my wife and son. He could be a psychopath for all I know. The only things stopping me from bringing this up to Ana is the knowledge that it will only drive the wedge farther between us.
So many of our troubles stem from my lack of trust that she can take care of herself. I'm so quick to decide that I know better than she does when it comes to her safety and happiness, as well as our son's. Truth is, though, it's gotten to the point over recent years that I truly don't know what's best for my son's happiness. I've spent more time on business trips or working or, more recently, fucking Lucy that I don't know my son as well as I should.
I stop cold in the middle of the zoo as that realization hits me. While it's true I just spent a month straight with him, it's probably the longest I've done so since he was small. There are seven months completely unaccounted for, when I was sitting at home in Seattle so lost and distraught that my wife had left me, talking to my son over the fucking internet every other day, when I could have been in London with them. Or if not with them, because I doubt Ana would have given in so easily, nearby so I was at least seeing my son in person whenever I could.
"Christian?"
I look away from where my son is staring at a penguin exhibit to find Ana looking at me in concern. "Yes?" I ask hoarsely.
She frowns. "Are you okay?"
Am I? Well, that's a fucking easy answer: "No."
"No?" she repeats.
I shake my head. "No, Ana, I'm not okay. I fucked up. I've lost you completely. And I've lost my son."
All the color drains for her face as she closes the distance between us. "Christian, what are you talking about?" she asks me in a fearful whisper. "You haven't lost Teddy."
The smile I try to summon is more of a grimace. "I've just lost you?" I ask, my voice and heart breaking.
Her eyes close as though she's in pain. I can relate. "Maybe we should have this discussion later? This isn't really the best place to do this..."
I nod my agreement, swallow my emotion, take in a deep breath, and stand up straight. "Of course." If I can keep myself in work mode for the afternoon, I
I manage to get through the rest of the afternoon, somehow without our son catching on that anything is wrong between his parents. I understood Christian was upset about the phone call I received from Thomas, though I did think it might lessen the blow for him to know I didn't plan on going out with Thomas while he was visiting. Apparently I was wrong. I don't want to hurt Christian, I hate seeing him in pain, but he knew about Thomas.
I don't know if this latest mood change has been triggered by the phone call, though I suspect it has been. All I know is that one second we were walking through the zoo as a family, and the next, Christian was several steps behind me, looking as though he'd just walked straight into a brick wall. I've never been all that skilled at reading his thoughts, even at the best of times, but I never thought he would think he's lost his son. I never wanted him to feel that way. While I blame Christian for doing this to us in the first place, I know it was by my own choice that Teddy and I are living so far from him.
Whatever happens, I have absolutely no intention of ever keeping Christian from his son. I wouldn't force Teddy to suffer like that. There's a small part of me that tells me I need to go home with Christian and work this out, no matter what it takes or how strained the relationship is between us. It tells me it's my duty to my son and to my marriage that I not give up. It tells me it doesn't matter how miserable I am, my son should grow up with both his parents, together. But coming from numerous broken homes, I know I'll never go through with that. I spent so much of my life watching my mother being miserable over whichever failed marriage she was suffering through at the time and though she did everything to shield me from those feelings, I was aware of every bitter look, every hurtful word, every cold action, and I vowed never to put my children through that.
On the ride back to the apartment, Christian doesn't say a word; instead he stares out the window as we drive. Teddy is relaying us with every animal he saw and playing with the stuffed animals and little figurines Christian bought him at the zoo gift shop. I'm only listening to my son with half an ear, my attention on my husband as I silently will him to look at me so I can make whatever is on his mind go away.
There is one way to get his mind off his troubles... My subconscious and I both stare open-mouth as my inner goddess strolls across the room wearing barely a Kleenex's worth of lacy lingerie.
My subconscious shakes her head then throws one of her beloved books across the room, knocking my inner goddess on her bare ass. I swear she's worse than Christian at times...
We order takeout for dinner and Taylor picks it up for us, and now we're sitting on the floor of the living room in a triangle with pizza boxes scattered between us along with containers of breadsticks, chicken wings, and a couple bottles of Coke. Christian's mood has lightened slightly as we eat and before his third slice of supreme pizza, I swear he's smiling again. Teddy decides he doesn't want to sleep in his room tonight, but rather with his parents, and begs us to camp out here in the living room. Christian looks at me for my decision and I'm met with not one but two puppy dog looks. Rolling my eyes I consent to the camp out and Teddy cheers before running towards his bedroom to gather his pillows, blankets, and pajamas.
"You sure this is okay?" Christian asks me quietly.
I meet his gaze and he looks as though his happiness lies in my decision tonight. I smile at him. "Of course," I reply. "It could be fun."
He gives me a shy smile. "If you tell me where you keep the spare blankets, I'll help Teddy build us a bed on the floor..."
"Down the hall, closet just past Teddy's room. I'll put away the leftovers and get my pajamas."
After I've changed, I go out to find the boys. Teddy is sitting in the middle of a large pile of blankets and pillows, already changed into his pajamas and searching for a movie for us to watch. "Where's your daddy, baby?" I ask him, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair.
He tilts his head back to look at me, grinning toothily. "Someone called him," Teddy informs me. "Daddy's outside."
With a raised eyebrow, I glance towards the patio to find Christian pacing, one hand holding his phone to his ear, the other fisting in his hair. I can't hear what he's saying, but whatever it is, he looks pissed. When he starts cursing at the top of his voice, I have the need to close the sliding glass door that Christian left cracked. Teddy's looking towards his father in interest at the words coming out of his mouth and the last thing I need is for my son to repeat those words at a new school. My hand freezes on the door, however, when I unintentionally hear part of his conversation.
"I told you to leave me the fuck alone," he growls loudly. "No! You will not handle it. You had your chance and you fucked it up, so now it's my turn! ... I mean it, Elena, stay the fuck away or you will fucking regret it." I am staring at him wide-eyed as he hangs up on his phone and turns towards me. He freezes mid-step, all the color draining from his face and I know I'm radiating anger and confusion towards him.
All of a sudden, the last place I want to sleep tonight is on the floor near Christian.