Nearly three hours have gone by since Christian called to let me know he was having lunch with Grace today. I don't think I've ever felt more nervous for another person in my life. While I think I know what they'll be discussing, and the things he'll be disclosing, I'm bracing myself for the worst. There is no part of me that believes Grace would write off her son for any reason, but as much as I tried to convince Christian of this, the more worried he became about facing her.
Aside from that that ominous phone call, I've been pretty busy myself. After our most recent talks, and having finally settled in at home, I've started looking around for employment opportunities. I haven't mentioned it to Christian, but if his word is anything to go by, he won't have any objections to my decision. Not that it will matter to me at this point if he does find some sort of objection; I'm long past the days when I follow his word day in and day out. I'm trying to regain the feelings I had before this entire mess started—respect, love, trust. I think I've regained one out of the three, but the other two elude me and will probably continue to do so for the foreseeable future.
When I haven't been playing with Teddy, I've been on the phone. My mom and Ray have only just gotten the messages I've left them about returning to Seattle. Mom seems as though she couldn't be happier and has promised a visit for Christmas. Ray, on the other hand... Despite not having told my parents all the gritty details of my and Christian's separation, and the fact that Christian's PR team has somehow managed to keep a lot of the information about Lucy kidnapping Teddy under wraps, I think Ray has worked out a lot of the details on his own. He spent several minutes gruffly telling me to let him know if I needed him and he'd be in Seattle before I could blink an eye. I'll have to remember to warn Christian to avoid Ray as well as continuing to avoid Kate.
I sense movement out of the corner of my eyes and glance over. I yelp in surprise and my heart stops for a second as I find Christian standing just inside the door of the library where I holed up during Teddy's nap in an attempt to catch up on some reading. Needless to say between worrying about Christian's lunch with his mom and having no idea what kind of mood he would be in upon arriving home, and thinking about the opportunity that presented itself to me earlier today, I haven't even started looking for a book to read yet.
"Hi," I say quietly, eyeing him closely and trying to gage his mood. He's pale. He's been running both hands through his hair, his tie is loosened around his neck, and his shirt it partially untucked. I'm going to hazard a guess and say lunch wasn't full of laughs. "How'd it go?"
He lets out a long sigh, blinking rapidly as he pushes himself off the wall where he's been leaning for who knows how long. "Well," he says hoarsely as he wanders over to sit beside me on the couch, immediately reaching for my hand, "I made it out in one piece."
I smile sympathetically. "You knew it wasn't going to be easy," I remind him, squeezing his hand.
He nods slowly. "I did," he confirms. "And I thought I was prepared for it." He looks over at me with wide, disbelieving, horrified eyes. "Ana, I discussed BDSM with my mother."
All of a sudden, I have the insane urge to laugh. I'm not sure if it's because I'm mortified at the very thought or trying to see the funny side in a decidedly unfunny situation, but I manage to rein in my amusement; somehow I don't think Christian would appreciate it right now. "You did... what?" I struggle to keep my voice even, hoping he doesn't attribute the shakiness to subdued laughter.
"Yeah," he responds, staring across the room unseeing. "She wanted to know more about my relationship with Elena and next thing I knew we were talking about control, Dominants, submissives, and punishments. The worst thing about it is that I was still trying to justify what happened when I was fifteen. Mom didn't appreciate that. She's not happy with me—the way I've treated you, the way I've lied to both of you... I think if she thought could have gotten away with it, she would have grounded me." I let out a snort of a laugh before I can stop myself; Christian shoots me a weak, wry smile. "Of all the conversations I've had with my parents over the years that had to be the worst. Ana, I know I said things that hurt her—telling her about Elena punishing me because she'd been talking to my mother about my latest misdeeds; having to tell her about Lucy... But I realized not telling her the truth now would have been worst in the long run. If she'd been determined to cut ties with me, she wouldn't have given a shit about what happened with me and Elena or me and Lucy. She did, though; Ana, my mom loves me."
Halle-fucking-lujah! Despite the wonder in his voice, I know he finally believes what I've been trying to tell him for years. I want to get to my feet, jump up and down, and cheer until my voice is raw. I don't, though, because Christian isn't finished speaking.
"She's not abandoning me like I thought she would once she learned the worst, sickest, darkest thing about me; she still wants me in her life." His voice is full of wonder, his eyes wide as he turns to me. "Just like you, Anastasia. I don't know why. I don't know how. But for some reason, you're still here and you still love me. I've hurt Grace. I've broken her heart and her trust. I've done all that and more to you. I don't understand it. I really wish I did. What I do understand is that I've been listening to your words—that you've forgiven me for the affair and that you love me and you're determined that we try to work this out and you're not going to run—but not until today when I heard Grace say essentially the same things did they actually click."
My brow furrows in slight confusion. "You didn't believe me before?" I'm surprised at how much that thought stings.
His face falls. "No," he says quickly. "I believed you. But you know me: there's always some shred of doubt and I'm always waiting for the other foot to fall... I don't have those fears now. It doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying to prove myself to you—I'll never stop doing that. It means I understand you're not just going to up and leave me again. I understand you want to be here as much as I want you to be here and you're not just doing this for me or Teddy. You're doing it for you, too." He pauses and sighs heavily, shaking his head "This isn't coming out right..."
"No, I get it," I tell him quietly. "Throughout all the time I've known you, you never believed you were capable or deserving of love, no matter what the rest of us tried to tell you. You truly are the most exasperating man I've ever met, Christian." I swear he's grinning at me. "I don't know what you're smiling about. You just told your mother about BDSM." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them and I hold my breath, waiting for Christian's reaction.
For a moment he just stares at me, frozen. Then, very slowly, his face relaxes and to my surprise, he's laughing. After a second, I join in with him. It's cathartic, laughing with him over something like this, something so serious. If this is what I can expect from "new" Christian, I think I'll be very happy. "Old" Christian would have locked himself in his study by now, thrown himself into his work, and drank until dawn.
By the time we manage to calm down enough to wipe away our tears and refocus our vision, Christian looks younger than he has in years. We're still snickering every time our eyes meet. I catch my breath first. "I'm sorry," I tell him rather breathlessly. "I don't mean to laugh at that. I can only imagine how horrifying it was."
His smile softens as he reaches over to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "Don't apologize," he says gently. "It's one of the things I love about you. You always have a way of turning things that are mortifyingly embarrassing into something I can laugh at. It means the world to me that I can come home after something like that and laugh. So thank you."
I'm not entirely certain what it is I'm supposed to say to this, but before I know what's really going on, I'm in Christian's lap, our hips are pressed together, and our lips are almost desperately moving together. My hands are tangled in his hair while one of his holds me against him and the other cups the back of my neck. All the excitement from the other night, when we were on the picnic blanket for our second date, is rushing back, and I'm not the only one feeling it...
Christian groans into my mouth pressing me down firmly against his erection and my head falls back as I suck in a breath. He takes the opportunity to latch onto my neck, placing rapid, hot kisses against my skin. The hand holding my hip tentatively begins sliding up until it's resting softly against my breast. My eyes fly open to find him looking up at me warily as though he's just waiting for me to push him away. I consider it for half a second until I feel my body pressing into his hand. His eyes flutter shut briefly and he lets out a shuddering breath before he looks at me again, his eyes blazing.
Long fingers caress me through my shirt as we return to kissing furiously, almost as though our lives are depending on it. I don't know what's fuelled this—whether it's been pent up for months or because he desperately needed some confirmation of my feelings—and I can't say at the moment I really care. For this brief period, I've forgotten about everything, despite the voice in the back of my mind reminding me nothing's gone away and it will come crashing back the moment this connection is broken.
When I grind down against Christian's hips, he lets out a groan of his own and his own head falls back, giving me free access to his neck, which I take full advantage of. When I feel the hand not teasing my nipple move down between us to stroke me, I know exactly where this is going to lead. And when Christian slowly lowers me onto the couch, settling himself on top of me, I know there will be no going back.
Until, that is, we hear the high-pitched laugh of our son.
We both freeze simultaneously, our eyes flying open and staring wide-eyed at each other. Moment broken.
"Fuck," Christian breathes, his forehead dropping to my shoulder.
I nod my agreement as I try to catch my breath. "Yeah," I respond. Teddy's voice is accompanied by Gail's, and it doesn't take me long to conclude our son has finished his nap and is being led into the kitchen for his afternoon snack. "We should probably..."
With a heavy sigh, Christian pushes himself off me and collapses on the opposite end of the couch, running his hands through his hair as he tries to calm himself. We're silent for a few minutes, not looking at one another, until I feel a finger trace the outline of my jaw gently. I startle and look at him questioningly. He smiles softly. "What would you like to do for our third date?" he asks quietly.
My eyebrows rise. Is he really asking me this after what we were just doing? "What did you have in mind?" I counter.
He smirks, telling me immediately he was having the same thoughts I was only seconds before. "I was contemplating a few things," he says mysteriously. "I was thinking about taking The Grace out before the weather turns too cold. Or we could see another movie. In a movie theater," I giggle; he grins, "or we can do something completely different."
I nod slowly, thinking over all our options. "I'd like to go out on The Grace," I say, feeling shy.
His smile widens, turning boyish. "The Grace it is, then," he says simply. "Are we thinking a day-trip, maybe a weekend? With or without Teddy?"
"I think a weekend, just the two of us," I hear myself saying. "Soon, in case my job interview goes well."
Surprise fills his expression. "Job interview?" he asks sharply.
I nod. "I spoke to Kate today," I tell him. "She recommended I apply with a new publishing firm. It's only been open six months, but they've already got some pretty big names signed."
Christian's expression is unreadable and I suddenly flashback to all the times we've discussed me returning to work and the arguments they've ensued. "And what is the name of this publishing company?" he asks quietly.
Disappointment floods. I know where this will lead. And after what we just did and the plans we made for going out on The Grace... How stupid was I to think someone like Christian who needs to be in constant control of his entire world could possibly change? Does my happiness mean nothing to him or was he just indulging me with the semblance of control over my own life just to get me back into his?
"Hey," he says urgently, scooting over to sit beside me and reaching out to wipe a tear that's fallen out of my eye. "Baby, why are you crying?"
I pull away from him. "I thought you supported my desire to return to work?" I hear myself say shakily.
His eyes widen and he sits up straight suddenly. "I do!" he tells me incredulously. "Ana, of course I support you! If you want to work, I have no desire to hold you back from that. All I wanted to know was the name of the place."
I blink rapidly at him. Have I just jumped to conclusions too quickly? His expression says he's genuine, but my doubts have been creeping back on me since my conversation with Kate. "Oh," I say lamely. "Um, Golden Gate Publishing."
He nods slowly, still watching me closely. "You thought I didn't mean a thing I said, didn't you?" he asks coolly. "You thought after everything I've said about changing and being a better husband to you, I was going to keep you from working." Hurt flashes across his face. "Ana, I know I've hurt you and broken a million and one promises, but baby, please have just a little bit of faith in me. I want you happy. If this place makes you happy, then I am behind you fully."
Waves of shame wash over me. Everything he's been doing lately—the dates, the coming home at a decent hour from work, spending time with his family, being honest with Grace—has been done to prove to me how determined he is to make our relationship work. Despite all the drama, neither of us has been happier. I can see it every time he looks at me. But no matter what either of us does, we can't escape what happened between us, what was broken, and my doubts creep up on me, making me believe he's trying to lull me into a false sense of security.
Nothing is going to change if I keep doubting him.
"Christian, I'm sorry," I whisper, tentatively touching his cheek with my hand. He leans into my touch. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I'm just..."
"I know," he says, pressing his lips against the palm of my hand. "I can't say I blame you; I'm the reason you don't trust my words. But I meant everything I've said: I want your happiness above anything else. Of course I'm going to be curious about anywhere you're spending a majority of your time. Just because I support your determination to be independent doesn't mean I have any intention of ignoring your safety. I want to do background checks on this place, just—" He holds up a hand as I start to argue. "Just basic checks, Ana. Nothing in-depth. Considering what happened in London with Canton Publishing, we can't be too careful."
I blink as his words register, realizing he's being absolutely reasonable. This is a new publishing house and who knows what Elena did with the rest of Christian's money. It couldn't have been strictly for buying into a small London business... "Okay," I acquiesce. "You're right. Do the background check."
He stares at me in surprise. "Really?" he says.
I smile. "Yes, really. Despite past behavior, I truly appreciate and understand your protective side. It's just difficult to forget some of your more... overbearing moments."
His face breaks into a smirk. "Understandable. I'll get my team on the background check first thing tomorrow. When is your interview?"
"Thursday morning," I tell him.
He nods. "I'll have results long before then," he assures me, jerking his head towards the library door. "Come. I'd like to see my son."
And I'd like to continue what we were doing before...
For the rest of the evening, Ana and I maintained a safe distance from one another, as we didn't think our son needed to be traumatized any further than he has been by having to watch his parents maul each other right in front of him. Even after we put him to bed, though, we didn't pick up where we left off. I want to. I'm pretty sure she wants to. But we have to have some semblance of control; of all the times I envisioned us rekindling that part of our relationship, none of them occurred in the library on the couch. Not that that doesn't have its merits. I want it, if it happens, to be thoughtful and romantic. Maybe starting with a bath where I wash her reverently from head to toe, letting my fingers trail off to tease her nipples a little longer than necessary, placing soft, teasing kisses all across her smooth, beautiful skin. Then taking her to our bed. No guest bed. No couch. Our bed. Taking my time exploring her body, reacquainting myself with her inch-by-inch, reminding myself of what I nearly lost and swearing to never let her go again.
"Fuck," I mutter, adjusting my pants under the desk.
I manage to avert my mind's attention to Ana's news about a job interview later this week. It was surprising to say the least. We haven't discussed her returning to work in weeks. I'm certainly not going to stop her. For one, I have a feeling forbidding her to work would be a deal breaker for our relationship. She spent five months living on her own, building her independence and self-confidence that I managed to destroy. I like this new Ana. A lot. She's more like the girl I first fell in love with. I know she doesn't need me to live her life—on some level, that hurts, because I know I need her to live mine. I can't force her to live within the confines of this house for the rest of her life. I don't; it's not fair to expect that of her.
Old habits die hard, though, so the first thing I did upon entering my study while Ana showers before bed—which I'm trying not to think about too much—was call Welch and tell him to find out whatever he could about Golden Gate Publishing.
"I won't have my wife working for mentally unstable goat fuckers," I tell him, ignoring the huff of laughter on the other end of the phone. "Find out who owns the place, find out who their investors are. I want answers by lunch tomorrow."
Welch immediately agreed and I hung up shortly thereafter, turning my attention to another stack of paperwork. After Carrick told me he'd been doing digging into Lucy's activities, I did my own digging in both Lucy's and Elena's lives. Despite having already discovered the connection between the two women and their determination to break up my marriage, every time I think about it, I feel betrayed. There was a point I trusted both of these women. No matter how much I dwell on this, the feeling of wishing I'd been able to see past their façades only becomes stronger. I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself for what I've done. Even if Ana does.
It seems Elena has continued her "investment" with Canton Publishing. I haven't been able to find the amount of money she's spent thus far, but I know it's nowhere near three million dollars. A decent chunk of it was deposited in Lucy's account over the last few months—I'm still not sure why this is. Travel accommodations to follow me to Germany and London are a possibility, but Lucy has her own money for this. She's certainly not destitute, despite running a non-profit organization. This, of course, sends up red flags. I know her organization is real—I did my own checking up when I first met her. Even if her family has money, there's no way non-profit anything should be pulling that sort of income.
Then, of course, there's Elena herself. I've been digging deep in order to find a way to keep her out of our lives. Restraining orders will only work for so long and she doesn't respond to verbal threats. I have to ruin her—her business, her reputation, her livelihood, whatever that might be right now. This is something I normally reserve for people who have gone beyond slighting me, which Elena has. It is something I should have done years ago. Apparently, when it comes down to it, I'm sentimental. Who knew.
The more digging I do, the deeper this entire thing seems to get. I think I've found something to incriminate both of them at the same time and once my information returns, I will have no qualms about executing my plans.
My next order of business is reading an update from my lawyers about Lucy's upcoming trial. The date has been set. They are once again urging me to consider returning to London to be present. I'm torn. I want to put all of this behind us, move on with our lives, but I want to ensure Lucy receives the maximum punishment for what she's done.
There's a soft knock on my open door and I'm torn from my thoughts. Ana stands just outside the study, dressed in her pajamas, her hair still wet from her shower. I smile at the sight of her. "Hi," I say quietly, gesturing for her to enter.
"Hi." She crosses the room, standing in front of my desk. "What are you so lost in thought about?"
I hesitate. After unintentionally making her recall my controlling ways of the past, I'm reluctant to bring up even more drama. I have to remind myself about our promise to be open and honest with one another. I sigh heavily. "Lucy's trial is coming up," I say, watching her expression closely. "Our lawyers are requesting that I be in attendance and I was just thinking about our options."
"Oh," she says in a small, surprised voice. "Would it be better if we were there?"
I don't miss the we. "Possibly," I draw out. "With our testimony, it's more likely that she'll be found guilty, despite all the evidence that shows she is, without a doubt."
Ana nods slowly before walking around the desk. I immediately back up my chair and she sits in my lap. We take a moment to grin shyly at each other. "Well, if it will mean she's out of our lives for good, maybe it would be a good idea for us to be there," she says, leaning against me. "And yes, if you go, so do I. That's not negotiable, Christian. I'm not letting you face this on your own."
I hadn't planned on arguing her self-invitation and it's surprisingly soothing to have her telling me she intends to remain by my side, despite knowing a trial will only renew her hurts and fears and everything else that's gone along with my affair and our son's kidnapping. "You're sure you want to go through that?" I ask, reaching out to touch her face.
"Closure, Christian," she tells me. "I want this to be over and the only way I'm ever going to get past it is to know she isn't getting away with anything."
I sigh. "Okay, then," I tell her, kissing her chin. "I'll make the arrangements. The trial is in a month. We're trying to keep everything as low profile as we can, but there are chances media will be swarming us from the moment we land in London."
"I don't care," she informs me. "I'm not about to let anybody think they've driven us apart again. If you go, I go. End of story."
I can't help grinning at her words. I love this woman's stubbornness and her determination to prove she hasn't lost what others, myself included, tried to take from her. "You're amazing, you know," I tell her softly, kissing her briefly and ignoring the confused look on her face. "No one can keep you down for long, can they?"
She gives me a look of utmost reluctance, but at my encouraging nod, she speaks. "You almost did," she admits sadly.
I close my eyes as her words strike me, knowing they are full of truth. "And for that I will always be sorry," I say. "If anybody else had hurt you the way I have, I'd kill them. I don't want to see you cry, Ana, and I never want to see you hurt. If I have my way, you'll never do either again."
She smiles weakly. "Not even you have that much control over things, Christian," she says. "But I appreciate the sentiment. At the same time, I don't want to see you giving up too much of yourself, not even for me. When I fell in love with you, I fell in love with all of you, good, bad, dark... I don't want you to lose the things that make you you."
I return her smile, pulling her closer to me. "I won't, baby," I promise her. "Because the thing that makes me me is having you in my life. I have no intention of ever giving that up again."
With her sparkling eyes and brilliant smile, I don't think I could ever be happier than I am in this moment. Not that that will stop me from trying to see this expression on her face every day for the rest of my life. After a sweet kiss that neither of us wants to end, we resignedly separate to different bedrooms, and I silently vow that I will do whatever it takes to bring us back together in the way that we perfected together, in our bedroom, and in our bed.
I don't know how much longer I can lie in a guest bed imagining my wife just down the hall sleeping alone without resorting to drastic measures... Especially after this afternoon.
