The sunlight streaming through the window wakes me, though it takes me a couple minutes to orient myself to my surroundings. Memories begin to roll through my mind like a crashing wave—I'm in Seattle at Christian's penthouse, in his bed; I nearly lost him yesterday, but he's safe and sound. Last night's fear causes me to turn onto my side just to confirm he's really here and I smile at the sight I see—Christian is fast asleep on his back with Caleb curled on his chest beneath his father's protective hand. I try to recall him bringing Caleb to bed with us, but come up with nothing. Christian must have gotten up at some point.

Watching them sleep, I'm fascinated with how perfect they look together. Though he hasn't really vocalized his fears to me, I know he's nervous about what sort of father he'll be to Caleb. So far, he's done an incredible job—of course he would; when has he done anything with the result being less than perfect? He looks so young in his sleep, so untroubled. None of his faults are present right now. And it's his faults that turn my thoughts in a different direction. We have so much to discuss if this arrangement has any chance of working. It has to work out; neither of us will be able to cope if it doesn't.

"You're staring, Anastasia," Christian murmurs, his eyes still closed even as he smiles.

"Yes, I am, Christian," I respond. "I can't help it; you two look perfect together."

His eyes finally open and he glances briefly down at his chest before meeting my gaze. "It feels perfect," he says softly, rubbing Caleb's back with one hand and pulling me against his side with the other. "Having the two of you here..." he shakes his head as though he can't believe it, "I can't imagine waking up any other way."

"Neither can I," I say in a whisper.

He turns his head to look at me with a frown, a thought popping into his mind, but before he can voice it, Caleb stirs, grabbing our attention. "We should all get something to eat," he murmurs distractedly.

As confused as I am by his change of demeanor, I slide out of bed and follow Christian and Caleb out to the kitchen. I'm smiling when Christian looks around uncertainly between me and Caleb. "I suppose this is one thing I can't do for him," he says with dancing eyes as he passes Caleb to me.

Snickering, I drop onto a stool, adjusting my shirt to give Caleb access to my breast. Christian is watching us, frowning. "What?" I ask.

Without answering, he heads back down the hall, returning a minute later with a blanket, his intention clear—he'd rather his household staff, particularly Taylor and whoever else, didn't see me breastfeeding. Rather than arguing or informing him that I have done this in public a few times—I seriously doubt he'd be happy to hear that—I take the blanket, arranging it to hide as much of my exposed body as I can. Christian nods once in satisfaction, sitting beside us. "I still can't believe you're here," he says quietly. "It was a wonderful ending to a shitty day to find you here last night waiting for me."

"I'm just glad you made it home," I murmur.

He swallows hard, averting his gaze. "I didn't think I would," he admits in a barely audible whisper. "For several, terrible minutes, I didn't think I'd ever see you two again."

Hesitantly, I meet his eyes. "It was worse than what you told your family, wasn't it?"

He nods. "My mom was upset enough as it was; I didn't want to make it worse," he says. "That landing was nothing but luck, Ana. If the wind had pushed us a little further..." He trails off, though I really don't need him to finish the thought to know what he's inferring. "You and Caleb were all I could think of. And as we were going down, my only thought was that the last time we spoke, we fought and I didn't even tell you I love you."

"I didn't tell you, either," I remind him, whispering, though I'm not sure he even hears me over his inner turmoil.

"We hiked for miles in the rain," he recalls, "and every thought I had involved telling you how much I love you and Caleb, how I can't imagine living without you, and how much of a fuck-up I really am."

"Christian, don't," I say firmly. "Don't do this right now. Please."

His expression is bleak. We don't speak again until Mrs. Jones joins us in the kitchen, asking us what we'd like for breakfast. When Christian doesn't answer, I request pancakes and she happily goes about cooking for us. Caleb finishes just in time for us to start our own meals. Silently, Christian takes him from me and places him in his swing. Mrs. Jones looks between the three of us uncertainly, then excuses herself.

"Christian?" I ask, taking a bite of pancake.

"Last night," he begins, "when I asked you how long you're staying... Did I really hear you say indefinitely?"

The hope in his eyes is infinite and while I hadn't planned on having this discussion until later, I nod. "Yes, I did."

"And that means...?" he asks leadingly, not wanting to jump to conclusions.

"What do you think it means?"

"Well..." he says slowly, "I hope it means you and Caleb will be permanent residents in Seattle—more than that, permanent residents here."

I grin. "Yes, that's exactly what it means." He's speechless as he processes my words and I'm suddenly uncertain about whether I should have made the decision to move back here without consulting him first. "I... I thought that was what you wanted..." Was I wrong? Did our fight the other night change things for him?

In the next moment, I'm in his lap and he's got his arms wrapped around me like he'll never let me go again. "It is what I want," he breathes into my hair. "Of course it's what I want. I just thought..." He shakes his head. "I love you, Ana, and I will never go another day without telling you."

"I love you, too," I murmur against his neck. "And I wouldn't let you anyway."

He laughs softly in my ear.

I swallow hard, knowing we need to have the rest of this conversation. "I have stipulations, though," I whisper.

His entire body tenses and he pulls away, watching me warily. "Oh?" he asks reluctantly.

Nodding, I remove myself from his lap and return to my stool. "Yes." I take several breaths before speaking again. "The most important one—the one that will be an immediate and permanent deal breaker, is Mrs. Robinson."

He sighs as though he knew exactly what I was going to say. "Ana..."

"No," I say strongly. "I mean it, Christian. That woman goes nowhere near our son for any reason. And really, at this point, I need you to make a choice—us or her. You know how I feel about her and all you ever do is defend her like she didn't abuse you as a child." I glance over at Caleb. "How would you feel if someday some woman took advantage of Caleb like that?" I'm disgusted by the very thought, but I really need Christian to understand where I'm coming from.

"I'd fucking kill anybody who hurt him—either of you," he says with a growl.

"I feel exactly the same," I reply matter-of-factly. "So if you want this—if you want us—you need to make some changes."

"I choose you," he responds immediately, sincerely. "Ana, I will choose you and Caleb every time, no matter what. If you don't want Elena in my life and if it will cause you to leave me, she's gone."

"Are you saying that for my benefit or yours?" I ask him. "Christian, this is as much for your benefit as it is for ours, but you need to want it."

"I do. Ana, do you want to know what Elena and I talked about Monday night?"

Do I? He doesn't wait for me to answer.

"My intention was to go over P&L figures for the quarter, come home, and call you. She brought you up and I tried to shut it down, but she kept going until I snapped at her. I finally managed to convince her I wasn't going to talk about you with her—and before you ask, I didn't mention Caleb even once. By the end of that dinner, I was fed-up with her meddling, particularly when she spent half the time trying to convince me you're no good for me. I don't need her in my life like I once did. All I need are you and Caleb; that's it."

I'm willing to accept that, though only time will tell if he really means it. "The next thing is your reaction to Joe in my apartment Monday night." Immediately, his jaw tightens and he's readying himself for a fight. I won't back down; this conversation will set the precedent for our future and I'm not willing to negotiate on some points. "I didn't invite him over. He dropped by Monday evening with a pizza and we spent a while just talking. Nothing else happened. But for you to react the way you did to Joe when you had dinner with that woman was completely out of line. The situations aren't even close to the same thing. Nothing has ever happened between Joe and me, but you were having dinner with a woman you had a six-year affair with—I'm not even going to acknowledge the specifics of it.

"Christian, the only way you and I will ever work is if you learn to trust that I know what I'm doing—it doesn't matter to me that other men might be attracted to me; they will never turn my head from you. They mean nothing to me while you mean everything. So if you can do that, if you can trust me and stop jumping down my throat every time I merely speak to another man, then Caleb and I are here, and we're yours."

"Damn right, you're mine," he growls, pulling me against him to the point I have a little trouble catching my breath. "And you're right—of course you are. I trust you, Ana, with everything I am and will ever be; I just can't stomach the thought of losing you for any reason."

"So stop pushing me away when I do something you don't like," I implore. "You are the only one who can cause you to lose me."

He nods in understanding and for now, we can put this conversation to rest. There is no doubt in my mind that we will have hurdles to jump and bumps to trip us up, but that's to be expected. Communication will be the key and once we both learn to open up when we're angry and upset, we'll be just fine.


I am the luckiest son of a bitch in the whole fucking world. That's the only explanation. Not only did I survive an event that should have had a much worse outcome, but now the two people in the world who have come to mean absolutely everything to me are with me for good. All morning, I found myself staring at Ana and Caleb, waiting for them to disappear right before my eyes. Because things like this—amazing things—don't happen to men like me. I've done nothing to deserve them, but still, here they are.

After yesterday, I intended to take the day off work and spend as much time with them as possible. I should have known better... Between Taylor briefing me with updates about Charlie Tango, Andrea calling to arrange a press release regarding the accident, and my family's surprise visit, I've barely had a moment alone with them since breakfast. My family, of course, claims they're here to check up on me and make sure I didn't suffer any ill effects from yesterday. Though watching them now as we all eat lunch together, I think I've worked out their real motives—Grace and Mia have spent more time fawning over Caleb than actually talking to me; Elliot is pretending to not be interested by his nephew, but I've seen the look of wonder in his eyes; Carrick is armed with a camera and has taken pictures practically every other minute since he's been here; Kate and Ana are huddled together on the couch talking about something and occasionally, they look over at me. That smirk on Kate's face is really starting to make me uneasy.

When everyone finally decides it's time to let us spend some much needed alone time together, I realize it will be short-lived as Mia announces her plans for a party Saturday night—for my birthday. Grace jumps in as I start to glare at my sister, telling me she wants the opportunity to show off her first grandchild. Maybe I've turned into a bit of a Mama's Boy, but I find myself unable to turn her down when she looks so hopeful.

"You're birthday, huh?" Ana says teasingly when I drop down onto the couch beside her and our sleeping son.

"So it would seem," I reply grudgingly. "Any opportunity to throw a party and Mia is right there."

"How come I didn't know it was your birthday?"

I turn to her, raising an amused eyebrow. "You never asked," I answer smoothly, pulling her and Caleb to rest against me. "Besides, I'm not big on birthday celebrations; it's just another excuse for people to get shit-faced. And you heard Grace—her real intention is to show Caleb off to all her friends. He is, by far, the cutest baby in Grace's social circle; I'd be bragging, too."

"I think you're a little biased," she replies wryly.

I shrug. "We don't have to go," I tell her. "If you'd rather just stay here, that is perfectly fine with me."

"I think your mom would have a few things to say about it, though..."

To be honest, nobody else in the world matters to me but the two people currently in my arms. Grace and Mia would recover if I decided to not attend their party, but of course, I wouldn't dare make a decision like that or deny them the opportunity to spend more time with Caleb, even if I want him and Ana all to myself. Sadly, this is probably how things will be for a while as Ana gets settled in Seattle again—making contact with old friends and contacts even though she wasn't really here long enough to make too many. Will she want to look for a job? SIP, perhaps? I glance out of the corner of my eye at her when Caleb turns a little in his sleep. I should probably mention that to her at some point, but then again, maybe moving back to Seattle is just what she needs—in Savannah, she worked because she had to in order to support her and her son; now she has me and she won't have to work a day in her life if she doesn't want to. Knowing Ana as I do, I know this is a subject that will undoubtedly start an argument between us and I don't want to risk that after such a good day.

As for friends... Well, aside from Kate, there's only the photographer. That's another subject that will start an argument, but it's one we need to discuss. It won't take much exploring on her part to discover one of the other changes to my apartment, so I might as well come clean on my own terms...

"Do you still keep in contact with José?" I ask cautiously.

Her eyes widen as she turns to me. "Um, no," she answers uncertainly. "Not really. After I moved to Savannah, he wanted to know why and I couldn't give him a straight answer—only a few people knew about the pregnancy. Kate, my mom, Bob, Ray..." She shrugs. "When I started to refuse to give José answers to his satisfaction, we started to lose contact. Last I heard, he was seeing some girl and was happy."

So the boy doesn't know about Caleb. Works for me... "I went to his gallery opening last year," I murmur, resting my head against hers.

She pulls away suddenly, looking at me in surprise. "What? Why?"

I shrug and give her the honest answer, "I was hoping I'd see you there. Even though by then, I knew you were planning a move to Savannah, but I thought maybe you'd see him before you went. Actually, my plan originally, before I realized you'd gone, was to extend an invitation to take you to Portland to see the opening. It was the only valid way to see you that I could think of and it would have given us hours together..." I smile, shaking my head. "Anyway, I got there, you weren't there, and I came to the realization you were really gone." I swallow hard and she turns to me with an apologetic glint in her eyes. "I thought I'd lost you completely, but..."

"But what?" she whispers.

I smile. "Come, I want to show you something..."

Looking confused, she climbs to her feet and I lead her through the apartment, taking a detour to Caleb's room to place him in his crib. I don't think I'll ever get over having him and Ana in my home.

"Where are we going?" Ana asks as I lead her by the hand towards my study.

We stop outside the door and I'm suddenly uncertain. From an outsider's point of view, this could be seen as creepy and stalkerish, both of which are descriptions I know Ana has thought in regards to me in the past and I don't doubt it'll pop up again in the future. "This kept me going over the last year," I tell her quietly, rubbing her arms with my hands. "Even when I thought I lost you completely, I still had this connection..."

"What?" she whispers.

Swallowing hard, I press a kiss to her forehead and push open the study door, leading her inside. She gasps in shock, her hands flying to her mouth as she finds portrait after portrait of herself on my wall. Smiling, laughing, pouting, scowling, serious, thoughtful, and playfully flirty.

"Oh my God," she breathes. "Christian, where did you get these?"

"José took them," I answer quietly, leaning against the wall while she slowly moves around the study. "I went to Portland that night looking for you, and I found you in these. I stared at them for ages—they were the most beautiful pictures I'd ever seen in my life. And it wasn't until I realized everyone else at the opening was staring at them too that I knew I wasn't going home without them."

"You bought them," she breathes, making her second circuit around the room.

I nod, though she's not looking at me. "I bought them. I wanted them taken down immediately, but of course they had to stay up until the end of the exhibit." She stops in front of the one of her laughing—my favorite—and I place my hands on her upper arms, pulling her against me. "That night I saw you the way he did and I realized that I never really got to see you in that light. I was so determined to turn you into something you weren't that I was completely overriding the person you are. Ana, I want to see you happy and laughing like you are in these. I always want to see you like this; I'd do anything for it."

"We'll get there," she breathes, her voice catching as she begins to cry. "It might not be easy, but we'll get there."

Hugging her against me, I bury my nose in her hair. "I love you, Ana Steele," I whisper. "I love you so much."

She holds my arms against her with her own, pressing into me as though she's trying to make us one person. "I love you, too."

I will never tire of hearing those words...