Viewpoint

No. Dear God, please, no.

This can't be happening. I tell myself as I pace around the small bathroom that I share with my best friend, Kate. I can't risk doing this in my other room, for obvious reasons. Kate is much more manageable than my other roommate. Well, part-time roommate. You know my other roommate, who happens to be my boyfriend-slash-Dom megalomaniac and has more money than sense, otherwise known as Christian Grey. Yeah, the boyfriend part allows me to spend time with him, at least whenever our schedule allows it, and the Dom bit allows him to… you get the picture.

Anyway, yes… I'm not even going to think about what he'll say or do if he ever finds out what I'm doing at this very moment. And I definitely shudder to think if… shudder. NO… I quail to myself. He won't like it, not one bit. So here I stand, waiting as fate decides on my fate, in the small confines of the bathroom I share with my best friend, half praying, and half contemplating. Yes, if Kate ever walks in and finds me in our bathroom with a stick on the counter, well… and if the stick says… whatever the result is, I'm sure Kate… she'd be… surprised and well… what I'm trying to say is, Kate is a loyal friend, and she'll understand and support me. She will be on my side no matter what, while my other roommate will… I don't want to think about him at the moment. The thought of him… the thought of… oh God, please, no.

Concentrate, Steele! I tell myself. I take a deep breath. Right, breath, I need to focus on the task in front of me and wait. Wait for the result and contemplate if… what if… what if… NO! I take another deep breath to steady myself from my scattered wits and focus on the task. One more deep breath, here goes… I look over and see… one, two… Shit!

"We're here." Kate announces as we pull into a familiar building. I have a lot of memories of this place, both good and not so pleasant. I rarely walked into the main entrance. I always took other entrance, you know, the residential entrance a floor below, because residents drive and park their cars at their designated parking bays. Yep, at one point, I sort of considered myself as one of the residents. Anyway, that was years ago, things are far more different now. Right now, I and my little companion are considered visitors. I look around and finally notice the doorman hovering, waiting for the car doors to open. I knew going in that after last night's revelation and this morning's events, that I've no choice but to do this. There are far too many distractions ─ his family, mine, my friends are, much like him, all need answers. And they all have no patience to wait. I understand, I guess this is what I get for keeping my Teddy all to myself. Christian made an excellent point when he said that his place will provide the alone time for us to talk. Face to face. Did I immediately say, yes? Not really. Was he happy when I said I'm having Kate to drop us off instead? Hell no. But just like me, he really didn't have any choice.

I, at the very least, want to do this on my terms. I refused to go back to his apartment with him because doing so would mean a lot of things. Admitting guilt is one of them; letting him control the situation is another. Going back to his place with him would indicate that he has the right to dictate things. If there's one thing that I learned from my relationship with him and I guess maturity and motherhood is that, I wasn't going to let anyone bully me into doing things that I'm not comfortable with. So yeah, I didn't want to go home with him because it didn't feel right. Right now, the only thing connecting us is his need to hear my side of the story and of course, our son. Does everything change now that he's found out about Ted? Yes, I believe so. But I also believe that my son's world, his routine – his whole life for that matter, will not change now that his father knows about him. It's a bit twisted, I know, so please bear with me, I'm not perfect.

"You sure about this, Ana?" Kate asks as I unlock the door and let the doorman escort me out of the car. She must've sense my unease as I set to collect myself and my baby, who is currently snoozing.

"Yep. We'll be fine, Kate. Don't worry about us," I tell her as I open my son's side of the door and unbuckle him, gingerly put him in my arms – trust me, no one likes to disturb a kid in his power nap –while Kate and the doorman help me by getting Ted's bag, car seat and stroller for me. I idly wonder how I did this all by myself back in New York for the past three years.

"Seriously, holler if you need me, okay?" says Kate, once again tells me, her green eyes laced with concern. I roll my eyes. I couldn't help it when she goes all mama bear on me. Deep down, I know that she really is worried for me, and especially for the little one. Kate never liked Christian; she was vocal about it from the get go. She always said there's something seriously wrong about him, and I always dismissed her because for one thing, I was in love; secondly, if I was able to ignore my instinct just so I could be with him, then yeah, I would've ignored anything. I guess love really sort of made me blind, at least at the time. Besides, if she ever found out what was happening behind closed doors, I can't even… yeah, its better I keep everything all to myself. No one needs to know.

"Thanks, Kate. Don't worry about us, we'll be okay," I reassure her. Well, try to reassure her. I don't think I'll be able to convince her that agreeing to talk to Christian, alone and at in his ivory tower, is a good idea. And she's probably right, but I don't see any other way to get a private conversation with the father of my child without people butting in. Another reason is that, we promised his family that they'll get their answers and that they'll meet Ted at his place later today anyway, I might as well do it. Two peas in a pond I guess.

"Okay, if you two are not back tonight, I'll call and get the tanks," Kate says, mulishly and I giggle.

With a sleeping kid tucked in his stroller, the doorman leads me into the elevator that will lead me to face my doom. Well, not really, just reality. I sigh. I never really liked this part of reality, in fact, I dreaded it. This is the reason why I left in the first place. All this… drama, it's… stressful. The emotions, the decision that I had to make, it was all very hard. It takes me back to when I first found out about my blip…

What am I going to do?

I've been asking myself the same question for what feels like hours. My brain doesn't have an answer. I'm scared as hell, but for some reason, I'm also happy – I'm an emotional wreck. One by one, I look at the sticks again. Yes, sticks, in plural. One isn't enough; one positive stick isn't enough of an answer. I needed a few more to know for sure. It took nine more sticks, seven old fashioned ones and two high-tech ones to tell me that I am, indeed, with child.

Pregnant. 2+ weeks

Oh my flipping God! I'm going to be a mom. How did this happen? I know it's a stupid question, but we've been very careful about it. Christ, I switched to shots instead of pills just so I don't forget and yet, here I am, knocked-up and I've got no clue as to what I should do. Logic tells me that I should tell him, he has the right to know. But my instinct is telling me otherwise, I can't tell him, he's not going to like it. I've seen it before, in fact, it's the reason why I switch my damn birth control method. That incident nearly ended us. It was that nasty. I came so close to walking away and I should have, but I didn't. Yes, I know, Love is stupid.

So what am I going to do now? Where does this take me? On one hand, I want to be with him. I want to tell him. I want to raise this child with him, but sadly, I know that he won't. In fact, he will insist on doing the opposite and I can't bear to listen to what he has to say.

I take another deep breath. Gosh, this is all convoluted and exhausting. I can't stress; it's bad for the baby, my little blip…

Ding!

The sound of the elevator brings me back to the present. Alas, we've arrived at the penthouse, my part time home from years back and home to or, dare I say, fortress, to my ex boyfriend/Dom, Christian Grey. I take a deep breath to steel myself from the upcoming talk. Looking back, I always knew that at some point, my decision to keep my baby all to myself would result to this… I've been dealing with the consequences of what I've done since I decided to move to New York, leave everything and not bothering to tell anyone that I was pregnant. It's not just keeping the precious little secret; the bigger consequence is everything that comes with having and raising a child, all alone in a big city. Living and providing for the precious one without anyone on my side to help me. I keep telling my parents and friends this; I am living with the consequences of my decision every single day and I don't mind it one bit, because at the end of the day, however hard and stressful life can be, one look from my precious Theodore – one smile from him is all I need. It's enough to make everything worthwhile.

So in essence, I sort of brought this to myself. Do I have any regrets? I'd be lying if I said I didn't have any. After all, I'm only human. But I do know this; I wouldn't have it any other way. It's hard and I hurt a lot of people in the process, but it's a decision that, at the time, I had to make. Because it would've meant bigger drama if he ever found out and he would've accused me of so many things if I told him. Worst of all, he would've told me to get rid of it and I would've hated him. I would've told him things; that I would still keep the baby without him and Ted wouldn't know him if I did. It's a realistic scenario: if I told him that was pregnant, he would go thermonuclear on me; he'd scream, would have called me names and demanded that I got rid of it. I would've cried and I would've hated him for telling me to get rid of my baby. I would've told him that I would raise my baby alone and to leave me and my baby alone. I would've left Seattle detesting him and would've passed my hatred to my Ted by telling him his dad died or something. But I chose not to; it isn't healthy and I refuse to lie to my son.

So yes, here I am, a little uncertain on what lies ahead but somehow certain that this talk at his place and meeting the rest of the Grey's later in the day would remove some of the burden that I've been carrying since leaving Seattle. In a way I'm free; free form worrying. I don't have to sleep or wake up worrying that someone will show up. No more interrogations from my parents and my friends. I roll myself—well, I'm walking while rolling my sleeping Teddy bear's stroller, out of the small confines of the elevator and towards the all too familiar foyer. The round table with the giant vase full of flowers, walls of exquisite Madonna paintings and of course, the ever present Taylor, waiting to welcome guests. Right, some things never change.

"Welcome, Ms. Steele," says, Taylor, discretely, eyeing the sleeping toddler.

"Hello, Taylor. How are things?"

"Very well, Ma'am. Mrs. Jones sends her regards. Mr. Grey is expecting you; he is in the great room."

"Thanks, Taylor. Please send my regards to Gail as well."

"Will do, Ma'am. This way –" Taylor starts to say but Christian, who appears out of nowhere, cuts him.

"Thank you, Taylor, I'll take the bags," he says, authoritatively, his hand already holding the straps of my bags, and simultaneously taking the weight off my shoulder.

"Sir," says, Taylor, and he immediately makes his exit.

"This way," Christian murmurs, and I follow him towards the living room. I don't know why I feel so… nervous.

"I hope you don't mind, I had Mrs. Jones prepare food for us," Christian says, as he lays my bags on the couch.

"That's fine, thanks," Is all I can say. Right, I have to set up before the big reveal. And by set up, I mean, take the sleeping toddler off of his stroller and lay him somewhere where he can easily and safely get up when he wakes up, and usually run off to momma. The kid doesn't like to wake up strapped in his stroller, I know I don't want him waking up like that, I learned it the hard way. Christian watches me quietly as I carefully take Teddy off his stroller and with one hand holding and cooing the little one and the other hand placing a kiddy blanky on one side of this enormous U-shaped couch. One of the many things that I love about my baby boy is that when he sleeps, he really sleeps. Almost nothing will wake him up, I just have to be sure that I'm around when he does, because if I don't... let's just say, no one wants a screaming toddler.

"Do you mind if we talk here instead? He doesn't like waking up alone and err... I think the couch is big enough," I say, lamely. Damn it, I have to stop word vomiting around him. He merely nods, not saying a thing.

"We can eat now or talk, whichever you prefer, Anastasia," he says quietly.

"Talk, I think. I'm still full and it's better to talk now while the little one is still asleep," I respond all too quickly. It's true; we're here to talk, right? And talking is really hard when I have to watch the little one. This place is far too big and is filled with too much pricey stuff to let my little one roam around.

"Good point well made, Miss Steele," he answers coolly, taking a step closer, automatically I step back.

"If we're going to talk, don't you think we should, at the very least, take a seat?" he says, dryly or playfully, I think, I can't really tell. I'm pretty sure he senses my unease.

"Excellent point, Mr. Grey," I say wryly and take a seat close to my sleeping baby. At least we'll be close by when Ted wakes and I'm close enough to grab my baby and go, you know, in case things get ugly.

"I suppose the conversation needs to be controlled given we have a sleeping child to look after," he says, eerily reading my mind. I frown at him. I hate it when he does that, flipping know it all.

"Interesting choice of words, Mr. Grey, anyhow, so how do we do this?" I say coolly, getting to the point.

"Direct as ever, Miss Steele," he fires back. "Let's start for the beginning, I think. The whole story, I know that we talked about it a little bit last night, but I still want to know everything," he says, quietly and dare I say, absentmindedly? Why? I think to myself.

"Why? Because I think you owe me the whole story, Anastasia," He responds, his voice rising infinitesimally and I realize that I said the word out loud, rather than keeping it to myself. His voice and his overall, stance says that he is not to be argued. I bite my lip, take a deep and finally, I look at my Ted to steady my nerves so I can peacefully tell him my side of the story rather than finding the right words to antagonize him.

"The story is far too long, Christian, but it all goes down to a few things: we were together, whatever crazy arrangement we both had, we were okay and then one day, and I realized that my period was delayed. I'm never delayed, so I started to worry – no, freaking out, was a more accurate description. All I can think about was that big argument we had when I had forgotten to take my morning pill. I'm not sure if you remember that, but I do, vividly. It was the first thing that crossed my mind, ergo, my freaking out quickly morphed into full-blown panic. Anyway, somewhere along the way, I decided to, obviously, check, if there's something. It took, I don't know, nine or ten pregnancy sticks before it finally sunk in. I couldn't believe it, but there you go, the rest is history," I finish. Hopefully it'll suffice. I tear of my gaze to my sleeping child to look at him. His gray eyes hold mine.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Christian, the first time I had a pregnancy scare, you… called me a lot of things; gold-digger was probably the most hurtful thing you said and the worst one was when you said that… it's not just my decision on whether or I want to keep it. I think you're exact words were, 'you're not going to fucking keep it,'" I pause, prying my eyes away from his steady gaze. I must not cry. I must not cry.

"So yeah, those words stuck. I felt the need to protect the little one and protect myself and you," I continue, after I'm sure I've got everything under control. To this day, those words still hurt.

"Protect me?"Christian asks, disbelievingly.

"Yes, from yourself. If things would've ended badly between us, Christian, if I told you. You would've said things and I would've said things in response. That I would still keep the baby regardless and that if you didn't want him, its fine. I would've told you to stay away of me and my baby. I chose not to go that way. At first, I wanted to wait, but obviously I had very little time, so I tried the next best thing, what I always wanted."

"You wanted a vanilla relationship," he says, almost whispers, finishing my words, like something finally made sense to him.

"A normal relationship, yes. I did try, feebly, to persuade you, thinking that if you agree, and then maybe it would make some difference. Obviously, you didn't want it and you wanted to stick with the routine. So that left me with just two options."

"Leave or come clean," he says, gritting his teeth while I nod my head in agreement.

"Looking back, I realize that it wouldn't matter whatever relationship or arrangement we have, I still have to tell you and you would still react. I just couldn't bare it if you ever said those words again… I didn't want to be called a gold-digger; that I got pregnant on purpose because I wanted you're money. Most of all, I didn't want to force you into doing something you don't want, just because you knocked me up and I didn't want to be forced into doing something that I didn't want to do either, so I took your right to make a choice and left. I did what I had to do to protect my son, protect myself from the potential stress and the drama."

"I see," he says, noncommittally, I think. I'm not sure; I'm too scared to look at him and I honestly don't know why. There's a long pause. I can feel his eyes on me, but I continue to watch my son's even breathing, clinging to his peaceful image like a life raft, afraid that if let go, or on this case, if I look to my left, the waves will take me.

"So you moved to New York, why?" he prods, after moment.

"It's the only place far enough from here and the only place that offered me a job."

"You left and didn't bother to tell anyone?"

"Everyone knew that I was taking a job in New York but no one knew about my pregnancy, yes. I was six months along and finally showing when I told my parents, they were going to visit, so I had to come clean and I knew at some point I had to. My friends found out on difference circumstances. You already know this, Kate, found out when the hospital couldn't get a hold of my parents. Jose met Teddy when he was already 8 months old. My boss hired him for a shoot and didn't tell me he was coming over, he showed up in the office and Ted was there. Ethan – well, he met Ted when we arrived and he lives next door. He was upset, understandably so, all of them were. Their natural reaction is – was, wtf, followed by a flurry of upset reaction and finally, questions. Questions that remained unanswered until today, or rather, the last night. Of course, they all made assumptions, they did the math, they can see – I mean, his hair alone is enough proof. They wouldn't believe any excuse I made on how and who got me pregnant, so I figured its best if I just shut down every time they try to ask questions," I say, shakily. I take a deep steadying breath, relieved to realize that at least now that the questions are answered, the interrogations from everyone will finally stop.

"You figured that by keeping everyone in the dark, the news wouldn't reach me?"

"Well it sort worked, didn't it?"

"Until of course, curiosity got the best of me," Christian says, bitterly.

"I suppose you ordered another background check on me?" I ask. He doesn't answer, he doesn't have to. His eyes only remained fixed on me, it enough proof that he did.

"I'm very glad I did," he finally says. "Ana, we can go on and on, discussing what happened, what you did to me, to everyone. But the fact is simple; you lied and you ran away, from the truth and from everyone," he says, calmly though his demeanor says otherwise.

"I would agree with you on the running away part, but lying? No. I omitted a fact, but I never lied to you or anyone, there's a difference."

"Lied or omitted, doesn't change the fact that you omitted a very important, life changing fact," he cuts me.

"Haven't you been listening? Yes, I did omit something life changing. I didn't want to tell anyone until I had no choice and that Ted is right in front of them. I was trying to avoid this from happening which, obviously, happened anyway. I didn't want to have to be in this situation, first, because I was pregnant, I wanted a stress-free pregnancy; one where no one accuses me of something that I'm not. After I gave birth, my biggest priority was – and it still is – to do everything I can to make him happy. He is my priority, nothing else. Of course, I knew that this, you finding out, will happen, eventually. I even planned what I should say, but things unraveled faster than I expected. I've not a lot of words to say. Hell, I'm even surprised that I'm able to give you my side of the story. I don't mind raising my son alone, I didn't mind doing this myself, in fact, I'd take it any day, as long as he's safe and happy and loved. I don't want to subject him to any form of rejection or drama, Christian and I am fully aware that I've hurt a lot of people with the choices that I made and I can't tell them how sorry I am, but I made my choice. Those are the facts. I live with those every single day."

"Well you made one hell of a choice. You could've told me." Christian snaps; his voice raising making Ted twitch. For a moment I thought my son had woken up, instead, he rolls over and continues to sleep, absentmindedly sucking his thumb adorably, and in the process, distracting me from mirroring his Dad's rage.

"And then what? You get upset, call me names? Ask me to abort? That is what I was trying to avoid, Christian. I didn't want to give you a chance to reject him. You feel self-righteous now because you've meet him. You see him and he's already charmed you, but what if…" I say calmly, never taking my eyes off my sons face.

"Why the f—," Christian starts to say, but he stops and takes a deep breath to recompose himself. "Why would you think that? You think I'd reject him?"

"If I told you then, yes, I'm afraid that you'd reject him," I respond wholeheartedly. It's sad, but I know it's true. I know him well enough to know that it's true. "Tell me, Christian, what would you have done, if I told you?"

"Christ, Ana, what would I have done? I don't fucking know. Like you just said, you never gave me a chance to react. Yes, I would've been upset, not only to you, but to myself. I think I have every right to get upset, it's not fucking planned. Would I have asked you to get rid of it? I'm not going to lie, I don't know the answer. Have I considered it? Yes, but I wouldn't go as far as to force you to abort. I'm not going to force you to do something you don't want to do, Ana. Christ! Do you really think I'd do that? You think I'm that fucked-up? I would've taken responsibility. I would've at least, helped, given I'm partly to blame. But you never gave me a fucking chance."

"I saw you react once, Christian, what do you expect?"

"You should've trusted me."

"Well I didn't because I was too afraid, it's done now, Christian. I don't know what else to say."

"Well, I have a lot to say and awful lot of things to know. You are not going anywhere until we sort this out."

"Christian, I don't know what you're talking about. We'll stay until your family arrives to meet him. Other than that," I start to say but the cool gleam in his eyes stop me. He's looks mad. Oh dear. And suddenly, he is right in front of me, his hand on my face, his face literally inches away from mine. Crap.

"Would you like a list, Anastasia? I'd be glad to enumerate the things we need to sort out in bullet points and in fine detail if I have to," he says, menacingly quiet. I'm momentarily paralyzed. I'm sure if it's because of his reaction or his proximity, but I find myself nodding. This is bad, this has to stop.

"Good," says, Christian, slightly mollified, but he doesn't let me go and his eyes are still locked with mine. This is really bad, but I can't do anything, I'm paralyzed. All I can do is gulp and pray that he doesn't do what I think he's going to do. And before I can confirm my suspicion, my instincts kick in, one blink and the spell, his spell is broken. Thank goodness.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asks, as if nothing happened. He doesn't wait for me to say something, he stands and walk gracefully stalks towards the kitchen. He returns with two glasses of water and hands one to me. I sigh, but nonetheless take the glass, mumbling a thank you. I'd give anything to chug a bottle of wine instead of a glass of water right now.

"I thought about getting you some wine, but I figured, I'd save that until after this conversation is done," he says, again, correctly reading my mind.

"Christian, we can discuss this all day long; you can say what you want say to me and you can give me a list, but the facts and schematics won't change, except for now you know and that I'm sorry that I didn't trust you with the truth. I think I provided enough insight as to why I did what I did, I'm just hoping now that you'll understand," I implore. Christian doesn't respond; he merely looks at me with his discerning and completely unreadable story gray eyes. His calm demeanor quickly has me on high alert. This sounds crazy, but I think I'd take thermonuclear fifty any day over this… cold, menacing fifty. I mean, I think I do have a point, right? Technically, it's true; nothing's changed except for now he and the rest of his family knows. I know that he wants to hammer out the details on sharing custody and stuff. That should be easy right? Unless, of course, he wants to do the hard way, which I hope, he won't. I can't afford a lawyer, we'll I'd fight, valiantly, but money wise, I'd lose. Christ, I hope not.

"You're right, Ana. Facts and schematics won't change, but that doesn't change the fact that I want to make things right."