Chapter 35: Isn't it Ironic

Disclaimer: FSOG belongs to EL James

A/N: Thank you for reading, following and reviewing. Please enjoy.

I'd slipped up royally; by accident I'd divulged to Dr. Grace that I'd suffered a miscarriage. She clings to me, as she processes the news. After a relatively quick, but fruitful discussion about the gala, Dr. Grace pulled me into the library for what she cutely, called a girl's chit chat. But our jovial conversation, soon turned somber when I'd open big mouth. She'd lulled me into this comfortableness that had me seeing her as an equal, instead of my more superior elder; but most importantly the unsuspecting grandmother of my now-dead fetus.

Enveloping her in my arms, I commiserate with her, doing my best to not spiral back into the abyss. It feels as if I'm being eaten alive from the inside out, as an internal battle rages. Do I keep her in the dark, or do I bring her into my dimmed light; nowadays a desolate film is momentarily blocking my glow. Of late, I'd been all about my truth, but I can't discern if this is mine to tell or his. Laying my head on Dr. Grace's, I make small circular motions on her back, as I contemplate the two choices.

My back is to the door, but my Christian Spidey sensors are alerted; I don't have to behold him to know it's him. "Mother." The phantom voice calls, and immediately Dr. Grace disentangles from me. What is he doing here, he's not supposed to be here.

Dr. Grace leaps to her feet and; as soon as, she's steady, she darts to Christian flinging herself at him. "Oh, Christian." His arms outstretched, he catches her and burying her face in his chest, she sobs. Bewildered, Christian wraps his mother up in his arms, as his piercing gray eyes, fixes on me searching for answers. Reticent, I give away nothing to him. Agitated, he ceases scrutinizing my face for clues, returning his focus to his mother.

Christian head droops, and he angles it, in an attempt to search his mother's face. "Mom," Christian says softly, "please talk to me. Tell me why you're so upset?"

Dr. Grace lifts her head an inch. "Our-Ana-had- a miscarriage." She hiccups. If he could, Christian would crucify me where I'd stand; his fury is visibly coursing through his body. I wonder if his mother can feel it? As he deals with his fit of anger aimed squarely at me, I come to grips with my own. But I'll confess, I didn't expect Dr. Grace to be so forthcoming; Christian didn't even have to coerce the information out of her. I'd known she'd eventually tell him, but I didn't calculate that I'd be here to witness it. If Mr. I'm so unbelievingly handsome in my well-fitting black suit, white shirt striped tie, hadn't shown up I'd be safely ensconced in my humble abode in Portland when the uncomfortable conversation took place. Pushing out of Christian's embrace, Dr. Grace twists forward, facing me. "I'm sorry Anastasia, I didn't mean to share your private business." At the same time, Christian eyes me intently.

His stare becomes so intense, it's as if he's trying to get a message through to me via telepathy. It's too fervent, I have to avert my gaze. "It's okay," I murmur.

"No, I should've asked you first." Her voice cracks. Dr. Grace is so apologetic when I'm the one who should be begging her for forgiveness. But I'd reached the conclusion that it is Christian's story to share with his parents. Perhaps, this is the push he needs.

I give her weak smile. "I'm fine with Christian knowing, but if you don't mind I'd like to keep it from Mia," I say.

"And Elliot." Christian adds and I'm not sure why since his brother already knows. In fact, Elliot's been one of my biggest supporters.

Dr. Grace swivels and looks askance at Christian. "Darling, why do you care if your brother knows?" She sniffles.

Half-heartedly Christian shrugs. "He's not discrete and has a big mouth. Mia would find out for sure," he says. Seeing that Elliot has kept our secret, I reason that Christian's fake objection is a smokescreen.

Christian's hand reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and my eyes follow. Pulling out a perfectly laundered white handkerchief, he hands it to his mother. She takes it, dabbing at first the left and then the right eye. "Thank you," she says inspecting the hanky. "Always the proper gentleman," she beams proudly.

He nods warmly. "My elegant, refined mother taught me well." Christian winks and pulls her to his body for a loving embrace. Seeing him with his mother in a heartwarming manner, always makes me wistful that it was his true state of being.

Disengaging, Dr. Grey gently pats him on the chest. "I have to admit, you're right about your brother," she says taking a step back. "Enough with me, Anastasia is the one that had the miscarriage." Christian bristles. His mother thinks he's emotional, but I know better. "Go. Show Ana some love; give her a hug. It's the least we can do since we weren't there when she needed us the most." Her voice falters. "Some kind of family we'd turned out to be for her." I see her lips quivering and I want to go to her, but my feet are stuck to the floor.

Transfixed, I watch as Christian reluctantly walks the short distance to me and for the sake of his mother we play nice. We hold on to each other, like allies unifying instead of adversaries waging an unholy war. He smells divine, and then he always does. For once I'd like him to smell rancid, seeing as his essence is rotten through and through. The stench would give him a noticeable flaw; as he is, he can too easily camouflage his true nature. Unless you cross him, then you see the man behind the impeccable packaging.

Christian tilts his head, so his lips are close enough to almost touch my ear. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" His whisper is low, husky, and menacing; chilling in fact, but his words are ineffectual. I'm numb to his callousness. Then bringing his head forward, we engage in a more conciliatory and gracious exchange, for the benefit of his mother.

"Christian," Dr. Grace yelps.

Releasing me, he pivots to face his mom. "Yes," Christian replies.

Dr. Grace is pensive. "What are you doing here? Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to see you, but we weren't expecting you." Hallelujah. She'd asked the question, that's been dogging me since he'd first arrived.

"Some of my meetings were canceled," he says.

"Whatever, the reason I'm glad you're here. Will you stay for dinner?" Dr. Grace asks.

Christian, runs his hand through his hair. "Yes, I think I will," he says and my body visibly sags.

"Ana. Sweetie, it just dawned on me. Most likely, you were pregnant when you were here for dinner the last time?" Dr. Grace says suspiciously and immediately I perk up. Where is she going with this, I think to myself? Is it possible that this can get any more awkward? "Did you know then? Did the young man know?" Her tone is downright hostile when she poses the last question. Well, I got my answer and it's a big fat yes.

Christian breaks in before any words can leave my mouth. "Mom. Now you're getting too personal," he says, cautioning his mother respectfully.

"My darling boy I understand what you're saying, but aren't you the least bit curious to find out what kind of young man would abandon his pregnant girlfriend," she says.

Horrified, I pin Christian with my gaze, but he looks unconcern. So I make eye contact with his mother. "It's complicated, Dr. Grace and there's more to the story," I say

She touches me on my forearm. "Ana, I'm sorry you don't owe me an explanation. Christian is right, it is none of my business. Forgive my intrusion; I guess I'm trying to deflect from my own failings," she confesses.

"Please Dr. Grace, you don't have anything to be guilty about; you didn't know," I say giving Christian a scolding glance.

"Sorry Ana, good old fashion Catholic guilt isn't easily dissolved," she says cynically.

Maintaining my gaze, Christian runs both hands through his sexy messy hair. "I'm going to help myself to some of dad's scotch," he says, tapping his mother on her arm.

When he disappears to across the room, I move in closer to Dr. Grace. I speak in a hushed tone; I don't want Christian to hear me. "Dr. Grace, I'm goinna go upstairs so you can have some private time with Christian."

She pushes my hair over my shoulder. "That's not necessary, Christian and I don't need privacy."

I change tactic. "You know, I'm a little tired and would like to relax before dinner." Anxious, I peek over her shoulder to keep my eyes on Christian. I want to escape before he returns.

"Ana," Dr. Grace calls.

"Uh uh," I grunt then I remember my manners. "Dr. Grace, I'm so sorry that was so rude," I stammer.

She's smiles. "You and Christian are acting strangely. I don't understand why you're so uncomfortable with each other. The two of you just need to get over yourselves and embrace the people you are today, stop living in the past. We're fortunate enough to have found each other again, so we should celebrate our little family. Because, Sweetie you are part of this family." She grabs my hand. "And Ana, if anything happens to you again; big or small, please do not it keep from me. From us. Because family help each other." Squeezing my hand she shakes it.

I sigh. "Good advice." The words rush out of my mouth, the clock is ticking. "Let Christian know I'll see him at dinner."

"I will," she says and quietly I scamper out the room.

The stairs insight, I let out the breath I'd been holding; then I feel a hand on my arm…his hand. "Wait," Christian says bringing me to a crawl. "I want to talk to you," he demands.

Halting completely, I twist so we're face to face, and threateningly I stare at him. "Too bad. The time for talking to me has passed," I snarl, "say." Mockingly, I tilt my head to one side just as quickly bringing it forward it again. "Like two months ago," I sneer, jerking my arm from his grasp.

I think I see a flicker of remorse in his eyes; then he opens his mouth, and I work out that it was my hopefulness being reflected back at me. "Why did you have to bring the topic up with my mother?" He's stern, but his voice doesn't rise to the level of yelling. I surmise, it's because we remain in shouting distance of Dr. Grace.

"Go, ahead Christian you can say it. Miscarriage." Acerbically, the word rolls off my tongue. "I'd discussed my miscarriage with your mother. Accidentally, it came up in conversation and she wanted to talk about it. So, if you want to censor the topics your mother can discuss, you're talking to the wrong person," I say snidely.

His lips are in a firm line. "Oh, no I'm talking to the right person," he jeers.

Derisively, I laugh. "And where would you like the conversation to take place Christian; let me guess the boathouse," I taunt, "so, you can throw me down on the dirty floor and fuck me senseless. Or maybe up against the door frame like last time, letting your deft fingers do the work for you; picking up where they'd left off." Sneering, I lean in closer. So, close in fact that I can smell his fury and taste his bitterness; it's heightening the sexual tension radiating between us. "If you want to fuck somebody." I cup his manhood, "go fuck yourself." My lips quirk up in a wicked grin and I give him a squeeze. Through his pants, I can feel him hardening beneath my hand. He swallows and intentionally, I bite down on my bottom lip. Removing my hand, I leave him slack-jawed, as I triumphantly saunter to the stairs.

Mia and Christian are huddled in the corner when I enter the dining room and the moment he faces forward locking eyes with me, I lose some of my bravado from before. "Mia, where are you sitting?" I sound unaffected by his presence, but I'd bribed my voice not to break.

Mia steps away from her brother and walking in the vicinity of the table she points. "Right there," she says and then pivoting she goes in the opposite direction leaving Christian and me alone in the rather spacious dining room. But with just the two of us in it, it's claustrophobic.

Taking deliberate steps, I make my way to where Mia had pointed. Straightway, I rest my hands on the empty chair to balance myself, all of a sudden his presence is making me weak in the knees. I feel faint.

I'm so out of it, I didn't realize Christian had made his way next to me. "Let me," he says and his pinky lightly grazes mine when he takes possession of the chair. I know what he's doing, paying me back for earlier. He can smell my weakness, vultures know when you're vulnerable. After all, it's why they gather in anticipation of death.

Pushing my chair in, he positions himself behind me. Hovering, Christian tilts his head down and whispers in my ear. "You know, you're going to pay for your little stunt." His voice is low and husky; arousing me. My skin warms and down there comes alive. For the first time since Luke, I'm reminded, how long it has been since a man had touched me there.

Coquettishly, I peek over my shoulder, throwing him a passing glance. "I don't know what you're talking about," I say coyly, feigning innocence. Flirting can't hurt, I tell myself, but I know better still I'm impotent to stop it.

Unexpectedly, he sweeps my hair to one side and touches the spot behind my ear. "Stop blushing Anastasia. I'm just getting starting. Did you feel what you do to me," he whispers, and Mia re-enters the dining room just as he's about to stick his tongue in my ear. Closing my eyes, I don't know if I want to breathe a sigh of relief or grunt in disappointment.

Christian successfully plays off our sexually charged banter his sister had interrupted, by pulling her chair out for her. "Thank you, Christian," Mia says waving her brother off. Shaking his head at her, Christian walks to his seat on the other side of the table. "Sorry about that, I had to talk to Lily about something." Christian, needn't worry, Mia is preoccupied with her own thing.

Just as Mia's about to ask me a question, Dr. Grace and Mr. Grey enters the dining room. A genuinely surprise, Dr. Grace does a double take when she sees me. "Ana dear," she shrieks, "you came downstairs; I thought you were going to sleep through dinner."

I give her a sheepish smile. "Sorry, I didn't come down sooner. I wasn't sleeping the entire time; I'd hardly slept all. I got sidetracked by my emails and texts," I say, instead of admitting the truth…I wanted to keep my distance from Christian. My skin is on fire, so I know his eyes are boring into me. Therefore, I let mine dart around the room to avoid making direct contact with his.

Mr. Grey and I say our greetings, it's our first time we see each other, then he takes his seat at the end of the table; meanwhile, Christian is up helping his mother with her chair at the other end.

"So, Anastasia I understand that you're going to be with us for the weekend." Mr. Grey booms.

"Yes, that's the plan," I say.

Giddily, Mia claps her hands, as if this is new information to her. "It's going to be so fun having another girl in the house," Mia squeals.

Christian covers his ears. "Fuck, Mia!"

"Christian," Dr. Grace admonishes. "Watch your mouth at the dinner table," she says.

"Sorry mother," Christian says, giving her an apologetic smile then he returns his attention back on his sister. "Mia, Anastasia isn't here as a playmate for you, mom invited her to discuss business," Christian says, unnecessarily chiding his sister. What a Grump.

"Christian, you make it sound as if Ana is here for a work convention. She and Mia will have plenty of time to hang out. In fact, I've planned a girl's day for us tomorrow. Today, Ana and I pretty much covered everything we needed so I have time for my favorite two girls. We'll start out at Esclava then do some shopping, ending with dinner," Dr. Grace says. Under my lashes, I sneak a peek at Christian, and he's peeved about something and for a change, I don't think it's about me.

"Mom, will Mrs. Lincoln-"

Mr. Grey clears his throat, interrupting Mia. "Okay everyone, quiet please it's time for grace," he says commanding our attention. I bow my head, as I try to remember where I'd heard the name, Lincoln.

Dinner was excellent, the star of the show was the dessert. The banana cream pie was a heavenly confection, a perfect ending to a fabulous meal. However, right about now it's legacy is in question. I'm so full, I can hardly breathe. Holding in my stomach, I wedge my finger inside the waistband of my jeans, trying to create a tad more space. I'm regretting not changing, into my more comfortable lounge pants. Even Christian is dressed more comfortably.

Squirming, I try to hide my discomfort, by searching for a more comfortable position on the sofa. Mia has disappeared, yet again, leaving me with Christian and her parents. Who are having a discussion across the room, giving me a moment of privacy? Reveling in the unexpected solitude; I close my eyes and tilt my head back on the sofa.

Sadly, the privacy is short lived. I feel him, he's invaded my space. "Tired?" Christian says. His voice and scent are intoxicating, his whole presence is alluring; he knows he's affecting me and it's time I'd stop playing along.

Slowly, I peel my eyes open, and his handsome face starts to come into view. Bringing my head forward, I sit up straighter. "No, just thinking."

He smirks. "About me I hope," cockily, he says.

I smile wryly. "If you're a dog." I say dryly and watch as the smugness on his face slips momentarily, but it returns just as quickly. My inner cockiness had resurfaced just in time. Internally, I give myself a congratulatory hi-five. "Because I was just thinking about one." He can't help himself; he chuckles. "The kind I was getting myself, for a graduation present?" I clarify, but before he has a chance to respond his mother joins us.

Passing up on Christian's extended hand, I come to my feet. He scowls at me. Dr. Grace is oblivious to our tempestuous shenanigans; she's too busy playing the gracious host. And just as she's about to pose a question about breakfast, Mia storms in with something clearly on her mind.

Mom, dad Lily just invited Ana and me to a party," she says, "do you mind if we go?" Manipulatively, she flutters her long lashes at her parents.

Dr. Grace glances at Mr. Grey and he nods his head. "Okay, I don't see why not," she says, and Mia flings herself at her mother.

"Oh, thank you mom," she says gleefully, and then she skips over to her father and hugs him. Watching her, a hint of jealousy swarms over me; it must have been nice growing up with two loving parents. I'm not sure Mia gets how truly bless she is; not for the monetary gifts the Greys have given her, but for their gifts of love and security.

Mr. Grey's hearty chuckle pulls me out of my head. "You're welcome Mia. Just remember your curfew," he warns.

"Sure dad." Her reply is quick and I know what that means; she's going to ignore it. "Come on." She grabs my hand. "I have the perfect thing for you to wear," Mia whispers.

"Mia, Anastasia is tired. It's been a long day. Perhaps you two should stay in tonight," Christian says matter of factly.

I whip my head around, and my eyes shoot daggers at him. Who made him my daddy, maybe if he shown an ounce of this concern towards his unborn child he'd still be inside my belly? Counting to 10, I stop myself from going down a dead end- playing the blame game. "Thank you for your concern, but I'll be fine," I say. My tone is sugary sweet, to cover up my malice.

His eyes don't leave mine, as he proceeds to talk past me. "Mia, will your boyfriend of the moment be there?" he asks. Befuddled, I narrow my eyes at him, trying to figure out what he's up to.

Huffing, Mia puts her hands on her hip sticking it out to one side, she is beyond irritated with her brother. Christian's not so subtle knock on his sister was uncalled for. "Yes, Christian," Mia snaps.

"Then, won't Anastasia be a third wheel?" Christians retorts.

Perturbed, I blink; however, before I can hurl insults at him, Mia responds.

"It's a party Christian," she says deadpan, "there will be other people." Agitated, she points out the obvious. "Especially guys and maybe Ana will meet one," Mia sasses, deliberately goading her brother.

Mia then angles her head at me. Looking away from Christian I make eye contact with her. What?" I prod. I can see her brains percolating.

"Wait a minute, are you still hooked up with that guy?

Her question catches me off guard, and I'm frozen, like a deer in headlights. Now I understand the adage and feel sorry for the deer. I can't imagine the fear, being helpless with a car barreling down on you at some ungodly speed.

"Christian," Dr. Grace calls breaking up our conversation and I'm relieved; she'd saved me from having to answer the tricky question. I wasn't ready to give Christian the satisfaction of knowing I was single, since I'm sure Ms. Victoria Secret is waiting for him at his cushy apartment.

Contemptuously, Christian looks at me. " Wait a second mom. Go ahead, answer the question, Anastasia. I'd love to hear the response," he says smugly.

Dr. Grace swats his hand. "I don't know what you guys were talking about, but for God sake Christian leave the girl alone and while you're at it stop being so protective of her. Let Ana hang out with Mia. Considering, everything she'd been through, Ana could use a night of fun," she says. Christian is not pleased and neither am I for that matter, but for different reasons. I'm tired of being talked about as if I'm not present. But like Christian, I stay silent, neither of us daring to go up against his mother.

Lightly, yanking on my hand, Mia gets my attention. "Let's get out of here before my stupid brother says something else stupid," she whispers.

A low chuckle escapes me. "I hear ya," I say, and we start heading to the door, sneaking out in plain sight.

"Mia," both parents say at the same time foiling our great escape. Our backs to them and clutching hands, we stand stock still. "Mia Grace, we want you back in this house by 1:00 am. Not in your car. Not on the road; in the house," Mr. Grey says with specificity.

Peaking at me, through her lashes Mia gives me a knowing smirk. "Yes, sir," Mia says and we start moving again. Then untangling her hand from mine, Mia drapes her arm over my shoulders. So what have you been through?" She mumbles.

Jolted awake, by a hand touching me, I bolt upright. Breathless, and flailing I swat at my assailant fighting him off of me. I will not let him hurt me again; this time around, I'm old enough to protect myself. "Get away from me," I yelp. "Don't touch me." Panting, I swing my arms as hard as I can, but like in a bad dream, it feels like they're hardly moving.

I hear my name, but it isn't until he turns on the bedside lamp, do I recognize who's using it.

"Christian!" My heart is racing, "what the hell!" Scared, groggy, and confused, sleepily I look at him.

He's alarmed. "Anastasia, I'm sorry I wasn't thinking," he says.

I smooth my wild hair. "You, think." I bite.

"I just wanted to talk."

I touch the back of my hand to my mouth. "Christian..." I hesitate. "It's late, and I'm…" My words get stuck. "Never mind, just leave," I whimper.

From his seated position on the edge of the bed, Christian hustles closer to me. "You're trembling." Leaning in he tries to touch my face.

Grimacing, I flinch. "Don't." I close my eyes praying the memories will fade fast. "I don't want to be touched right now. Please, just go." I mewl.

He sits back. "No. I'm not going anywhere, leaving you like this," he murmurs, "not when I'm the cause."

I swipe under my nose with the back of my fingers. "Please, leave. I need to be alone," I whimper.

Wounded, Christian stares at me. Then the bed dips, as reluctantly he comes to his feet. Running his hands through his hair, he turns away from me taking measured steps to the door. As soon as, it closes behind him, I throw the covers back and vault from the bed. My feet hit the floor with a dull thud, but, fortunately, it's not loud enough to wake the household. Racing to the door, I lock it and right away flip the switch next to it illuminating the room. It is now a washed in bright lights; every nook and cranny brigtened. There's no place for a bad man to hide. Resting my back against the door, I scrutinize the space. When I'd first entered, I thought the room was large; now it feels like a tomb.

Pressing my back against the door, I propel myself off of it. Stammering to the bathroom, I splash water on my face. Going to great lengths, I avoid the mirror; I didn't want or need a reminder of what my fear looks like on me.

Crawling up the bed, I rest my back against the headboard and sit upright. Pulling my knees up, I wrap my arms around them drawing them tighter to my chest. My eyes stay fixed on the door, and rocking from side to side; I prepare myself for guarding it the rest of the night.

I was still awake when the dawn beckoned, so got up and dressed for my run. But once I'd made it onto the grounds, I opt for a walk instead. The property is too breathing taking to gobble up; the scenery was designed to be savored. As I walk, I can't see him, but I know he's lurking somewhere near, hiding in the shadows. Ignoring the ache to find him, I walk to the dock and pray he doesn't find me. In as much as, I'd like to set my eyes on him, I'm not in the mood for the inevitable war of words. Dr. Ryan is going to have a field day; this little excursion has provided me with a wealth of material for her to dissect. Christian wasn't supposed to be here, this weekend was meant to be inconsequential; time spent with Mia and Dr. Grace, not an epic showdown between us.

The quiet time at the dock and the crisp morning air helped to put things into perspective. It aided me in making my mind up, so I jog back to the house before I change it back. Breathing hard, I open the door to the kitchen. Good morning Ana," Dr. Grace says startling me.

I remove my hand from my chest. "Good morning," I say, taking the bottled water from her hand.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I saw you through the kitchen window," she says answering my unspoken question. "Enjoyed your run?"

Thirsty, I take a sip of water before answering. "Thank you for the water and yes I did. But the run was mostly a leisurely walk, I wanted to take in the landscape. It's so gorgeous. I only jogged back."

"I have to admit I love being out there too. Unfortunately, with my work schedule I don't get to enjoy it as much as I'd like," she days. "Did you happen to run into Christian?"

"No," I respond, and I resist adding an inappropriate commentary.

"Just wondering, because he called me from the car and said he was heading to Escala to pick up something. Wishful thinking on my part, I thought maybe you had more information." I find it endearing, that Dr. Grace has this naively innocent idea of Christian of me; that our relationship is closer than it really is. As much as; I think she deserves to know the truth, the hopeless romantic in me doesn't want to shatter her vision of us.

I walk to the island, and nervously, I fiddle with the grapes laying on top of the counter. "Sorry, I having nothing to add. This is news to me." I pluck a single grape from the vine. "So, did he say if he was coming back for breakfast?" I'm nonchalant. Unknowingly Christian had played into my plan, making it easier for me to execute it.

Dr. Grace makes her way to the refrigerator. "That, I did manage to get out of him, and he will be back," she says, opening the door.

Perfect, I think to myself. It gives me just enough time, to get out of dodge before he returns. "Dr. Grace, I'm so sorry to do this to you-" She cuts me off.

Her sunny disposition quickly shifts. "I don't like the sound of that, and I'm definitely not a fan of your facial expression," she mutters and with a platter in her hand she lets the door of the fridge slam.

She sets the platter down on the counter and I amble to her; leaning forward I rest my forearms on the counter. "I hate to do it, but I have to get back to Portland. An emergency arose." I'm cryptic, I don't have time to manufacture an elaborate fabrication. I keep my eyes focused on the counter, my dishonesty won't let me meet her gaze. Plus I'm a coward, I don't want to face her disappointment, it may cause me to abort my plan.

Dr. Grace takes out her disappointment on the slab of meat, pounding it relentlessly, as Gretchen focuses on the fresh baked goods.

Dr. Grace, wipes her hand on the cloth she has tucked into her apron. "Sweetheart, I know you are," she says and I stand upright to face her and when I do she pats me on one cheek. "Does this have anything to do with Christian?"

Her question stuns me; so much so, I'm doubtful I'm hiding my shock. "No," I say emphatically, lying to her. But there's no way to be candid without disclosing everything.

"Sorry, I thought I'd picked up on some tension between you two."

I giggle; in order, to downplay her astute observation. "It's nothing new, same old story. He treats me like a child and I get mad and act like one," I say teasingly, trying to thwart the line of questioning. My humor isn't baseless, but it's not exactly factual.

She smiles warmly. "I can't fault him for that when I'm guilty of it too. You are a beautiful young woman, yet there's part of me that will always see you as that little girl. Mainly, because it reminds me that at one time you almost belonged to me." She cups the side of my face. "Oh, darling girl, I'll never forgive myself for not fighting harder for you." She sighs. "Do you forgive me?"

Knocking her hand away, I wrap my arms around her neck. "Yes, I forgive you so please forgive yourself. In the end, it all worked out. I'm fine," I murmur and I rest my head on her shoulder.

We separate and start wiping at our eyes. "You're an amazing young woman. After everything you'd been through, to then turn around and lose your baby is so unfair. Yet here you stand at peace. I wish I could say the same thing for my son. Be patient with him, Ana. To the outside world, Christian is the epitome of perfection, but inside he's a damaged little boy. Unlike you, he'd never made peace with this past." I'm humble and shocked that she's being so open with me about Christian. As, his mother I guess she didn't have to sign an NDA.

Smiling, I roll my eyes. "I'll do my best."

She laughs. "Yes, he can test one's resolve."

"Tell you what. I have Spring break coming up soon with no real plans. So why don't I come spend a few days with you, then we can do all things you had planned for today."

She squeezes my hand. "I'll keep you to that," she says. "What about Christian? He'll be disappointed to find you gone."

"I'll call him from the road," I say. Extracting my hand, I give her a heartfelt hug and rushing out of the kitchen I race upstairs to shower, dress, and pack so I can get out of here before Christian makes it back.

Bending over, I stretch my arms as far as they will go. I adjust things, so they will all fit inside my Beetle. My bags have grown exponentially. Mia insisted on giving me her so-called castoffs, which means I'm loaded down with designer gear; all with tags.

He presses against my backside; he's not aroused, just firm enough to remind me that he's well endowed. His scent wafts into the car filling it making me drunk. "Need some help?" Christian says huskily.

I find my equilibrium, and slowly I start to extricate myself from the back of the Beetle. He takes a step back, giving me the room to stand upright. "No, thank you, I got it," I say my eyes focused anywhere but on him.

"Why can't you look at me, Anastasia?"

Taking a deep breath, I meet his gaze. "There, I'm looking at you now Christian. So what?"

He's impassive. "Why are you running?"

"I'm not running, I going home," I snap and slam the back door of the Beetle shut.

"You know what I mean. Every time I try to have a conversation with you somehow you manage to wiggle out of it."

"You can't be serious. Blaming me for last night is ridiculous; you're the one that barged into my bedroom in the middle of the night like a crazy man. I was scared. How you could've expected me to hold you in a conversation at that time of night and after a night out in the first place," I seethe.

"It was an insensitive move on my part and I've apologized to you for it. But gimme a fucking break Anastasia, that wasn't the first time I'd tried to have a conversation with you. What about all the other fucking times in the last 24 hours I'd reached out to you," he barks.

My eyes widen. "You know what Christian? Come to think of it, I'm beginning to conclude that the reason you came to my room had nothing to do with talking. You wanted to get into my pants," I say.

He Chuckles. "Sorry to disappoint you, Anastasia, I prefer my women sentient or at least alert."

"Don't give me that self-satisfied grin, like this is my active imagination at work…my wildest dream. Let's look at the facts, I came because I thought you were not going to be here and you came because I was. Relentlessly, you'd flirted with me, pretty much outlining what you wanted to do to me. So now tell me whose delusional," I say cockily.

He presses his steeple fingers to his lips and then quickly removes them. "You're deflecting," he says.

I sigh sardonically. "You're the Boy Prince of the business world; can't you take a hint? I've been trying to be nice."

"That's your Achilles' heel. Nice. I'd never liked the word. Why don't you try, naughty for a change and give it to me straight."

"What? I wasn't naughtier enough for you yesterday. The cold shower you took, tells me I was." I needle. "So, tell me Christian did you take a cold shower the last time too. Or did you jerk off? Or maybe you found another hole for your favorite body part since you're not too selective these days." I smirk.

He looks directly into my eyes. "Why don't you tell me, Anastasia, this is your erotic fiction?"

I put my hands on my head in exasperation, pulling my hair back from my face. Keeping my hands in place, mockingly I laugh. "You want to talk." I remove my hands, and my hair falls covering my face and I have to smooth it back. "Let's talk. Let's talk about the time when you did NOT reach out to me," I screech, "Like when I'd lost our baby. Yes, he was our baby. Despite what you'd like to think it was not Immaculate Conception. I had a willing participant. You," I say angrily sticking my pointer finger at him.

He runs his hand through his hair exasperation. In the short time, he has gone through a myriad of emotions; ranging from remorse, and finally settling on resignation. "Look, Ana," he murmurs, as he leans forward to move some wayward hair, to behind my ear. In the process, he grazes the side of my cheek. I don't know if it was intentional or unintentional, either way I flinch. Tilting my head to the side, I show my disapproval.

I swat his hand away. "Stop!" I shriek. "I will not let you do this Christian. Drag me into your dangerous game of cat and mouse, especially when you're the cat, and I'm the mouse. You'd taunt me with the slightest of possibilities, then haunt me when you pick up your crumbs and go home. Well, I'm not that girl anymore; therapy is helping me to heal and I'd been making great progress. Then one day around you, and I become everything I'm running from. But you know what, because I am different, instead of succumbing to your will, I'd found mine. And I don't want to talk you because there's nothing you have to say that I want to hear. Do you know why?"

He grins sardonically. "That must be a rhetorical question because I get the sinking feeling, I don't have a damn choice," he say bitterly. "Amusing, for someone who doesn't want to talk you sure as hell have a lot to say," he grumbles.

"I heard that," I snarl.

He clenches his jaw. "Why wouldn't you, you're standing right in front of me," he snipes.

I roll my eyes at him, and he glowers at me. "Sorry, you're in no position to dictate anything to me; you'd lost that right when our baby died," I say. "Ever since the miscarriage I'd dream of this moment when I'd be face to face with you. Not in the I'm happy to see you kind of way, but in the vindictive I want to make you suffer kind of way. From physical torture to mental anguish. I'd fantasized plunging my hand down your throat, bypassing the dark empty space where a heart used to reside. Yes. Now, I finally believe you…you don't have a heart." He bristles, at the blisteringly honest comment. This one hurts, his impassivity can't hide his distress from me. And I think back to Dr. Grace's request- to be patient with him, but it's too late he'd tried mine.

He snorts. "You're smart. I knew you would figure it out sooner or later. It just took you a little later than I'd predicted," he says condescendingly.

I lower the timbre of my voice. "Tell me Christian, where's your hideous beating heart." Paraphrasing, I transition to my normal speaking voice. "By the way, I wasn't seeking your endorsement," I sneer.

Contemptuously, he snickers. "How fitting a quote." He smirks. "You have the floor Anastasia, by all means, please proceed to tell me all the ways you want to torture me, I might be able to provide you with some pointers," he says derisively.

I ignore his self-deprivation, he's not deterring me. "I'd snatch your intestine out of your body, pretending it was your soul, twisting it then shoving it up your ass. Then I'd watch you beg me for mercy as you mutter a useless apology littered with superficial words of repentance. And as I think about accepting, I'd watch you grovel at my feet in your Kenneth Cole suit pleading with me for forgiveness. And because you were in a vulnerable state I'd kick you in your permanently smug face." My words are dark and sinister; the cold delivery befitting my mood.

He's expressionless. "I don't wear Kenneth Cole." Is his only response and, of course, his lips quirk up into that annoying smug smirk that I'm starting to detest. Naturally, he picks up on my one flub. I'm not enslaved to labels, so I was stuck and threw out the first name that came to mind. Shoot me

I snigger. "Careful Christian, I'll slap the smirk off your face if you keep it up," I say, delivering a threat similar to the one he'd issued me during our first heated argument."

"What's stopping you?" Nonchalantly, he shrugs his shoulders. "I'm standing right here," he says deadpan.

I snort. "It's too easy Christian and as it turns out revenge isn't what I needed after all. I'd realized it when cowardly, you didn't come clean to your mother, and admit to her, that you were the father of my baby; thus making her the grandmother. Instead, you were content to let her bestow that honor on another man. It was revealing, watching you sit idly by knowingly letting her cry for a baby that she thought of as a stranger instead of giving her the opportunity to properly mourn her dead grandchild. Your eyes were cold and emotionless; it was unmistakable that you didn't care one iota. It is then that I realized it wasn't your words of comfort I needed then or now; after all, you had none of consequence to offer to me. I simply needed you to show up." I pause. "Having you there was what mattered the most to me. I needed you to hold my hand, wipe the tears from my eyes, or just to hold me. I needed you to see my pain even if you couldn't feel yours. I needed you to be present for the death of our child." Sniveling, I pace in place. "Yes OUR baby. "I'd celebrated his life alone, but I shouldn't have been asked to mourn his death alone. He deserved better…he deserved both parents." The tears are now flowing freely.

"Anastasia," Christian murmurs, as he lunges for me.

I step back. "No!" I cry out. "I don't need your sympathy; where was when I our baby died?" I bark. "And as for your mother, I'm just as guilty. I could've spoken up, but I did what I always do…put you first. Funny, some things may change, but others remain a foregone conclusion," I whisper.

"I'm sorry, Anastasia I don't see what good could've come from my mother knowing the truth. What more do you want, she's already beside herself. What difference does it make what baby she's grieving; in the end, there's no baby."

Shaking my head, I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. "One would expect you to say that, because even when his heart was beating inside of me, to you he didn't exist. He never did." I swallow and spinning around I jerk the driver's side door open. Ducking my head, inside I kneel on one knee, anxiously rifling through my purse angrily tossing the contents from the seat to the floorboard. When I'd finally found what I was searching for, panting I back out of the car. Facing forward, I thrust the sonogram picture in front of him. "Look!" He winces. I hold it in place. "See. This is the life you'd been denying."

His gaze never lands on the image, he simply swats it away. "Anastasia. Enough!"

I'm more determined than ever, to make him face his truth. "No. You wanted to talk. Then, look at the life we'd created and then tell me it doesn't matter!" I snivel.

She won't stop, Anastasia keeps coming at me with the damn picture. How can she expect me to see what I can't? Unthinking, I snatch it out of her hand and rip it in half. When I see her face, and hear her anguish, only then do I realize what I'd done, but it was too late. I let the pieces slip from my hands to the ground. "Why couldn't you just leave it alone," I shout. And it is then that I see her knees buckle and I want to spring for her but I know she'll push me away.

Like a punch to the gut, I watch in horror as he tears in half, the one remaining photo I have of my baby, without so much of a glance. Sobbing, I drop down to the ground on my knees and start rooting around for the segments. Locating them, hurriedly I pick up the two most precious pieces of paper in humanity. What he's done is reprehensible. "You bastard," I bark.

Anastasia is distraught; I think quickly on how I can make it up to her. Aside from literally giving her my head on a titanium platter, I'm doubtful that there is any way I can. If I'm anything it's resourceful, so squatting, I grab the bag I'd hidden behind me. It isn't how I'd planned to give it to her, but maybe it will buy me some favor. Rushing, I take the gift out of it. "I think this belongs to you, "I say sliding the box across the pavement to her before she has time to come to her feet.

As, I'm about to stand up, Christian says something, but I've tuned him out so it's not registering. Then out the corner of my eyes, I see a familiar object gliding towards me. I don't want to accept it because it's from him, but I can't look away from the tattered box holding the fragments of my similarly tattered dreams. Stuffing, the two pieces of paper down my shirt I pull the box closer.

Picking it up, I sit back on my heels. "You kept it."

"Yes."

Staring at the box, I process the emotions cycling through my head. Then standing on my knees, I maneuver so I can sit. There are times, I see glimpses of a heart, but like a mirage it disappears just as quickly as it appears. He'd just proven Dr. Ryan right, I needed to see him for who he is today, not the collection of artifacts hidden way inside this box. It's such a narrow, perspective. This is it, he'd launched the final blow making it easier for me to reach my conclusion. He'd met my reasonably low threshold, and surpassed it, doing the indefensible. As predicted, my two held beliefs have intersected and I'm left to face up to my truth.

I run my fingers over the surface, feeling the letters remembering why I'd happily labored to put them there in the first place. But now they feel out of sync with the present. "Raising the ordinary to the extraordinary," had served me well, but it's now it's time to "Live, love, and laugh." The mantra fits in more with who I am today; not the wide eyed little girl who saw the Prince Charming from her storybooks come to life. Examining, the box for one last time, I don't bother with opening it, I simply push it across the cement back to him. "You keep it," I murmur, and then pressing my palm on the pavement, I help myself to my feet. Hanging on to the box, Christian follows standing upright.

He looks perplexed. "I thought it meant something to you, a lot actually," he says.

Sticking my hand down inside my tee shirt, I pull the remnants of the sonogram from my chest. "I guess we both got broadsided today." Clutching the pieces, I stare at him. "You know what they say, there comes a time to put away childish things. Well, my time has come. You are who you said you are, and I'm just learning who I am. And I'd suspect when the dust clears, neither one of us will like the other." I sigh. "Goodbye Christian," I say flatly and I swing around to take the few steps to my car.

"Why do I think you're saying goodbye forever?" I say and she pauses.

She pivots forward and I watch as a sardonic smirk comes across her face. "Why would you think that Christian? Forever would indicate that there was a More. And since we were a flash in a pan that certainly doesn't apply to us. Christian, I've accepted that we'd had a moment in time that nearly bonded us for a lifetime, but that too has passed. So, this is simply a goodbye," she says sternly leaving me with nothing else to say. Powerless, I watch as she steps back and puts her hands on the handle of her beaten up car.

"Tear up the planks. Here, here; it is the beating of his hideous heart." Desperate, loudly I recite the quote, answering her earlier question. She pauses. "Edgar Allen Poe, The Tell-Tale Heart," I say. "So my heart is buried under the planks." She never turns around, pausing only for a sliver. Opening the door, Anastasia climbs into the death trap. I'm out of my depth, if she were my submissive, I'd know what to do.

I'm scared, it was too easy; I don't have this kind of luck. Two relationships going out like a lamb, instead of like the Lion I'd anticipated. The path is lined with trees, so I'm on the lookout for one falling on my car. Or maybe, it will happen the old fashion way and God will send a bolt of lightning to strike me down. Despite my weariness, I am relieved to begin the dismantling of my emotional dependence on Christian. He's not worthy of my love because he's not capable or willing to love me in return. Less more loving me completely. In my rearview mirror, I watch until the image of him fades into the scenery.

Reaching, I turn up the car radio then I start screaming to the tip of my voice. "You show up because he isn't there, he shows up because you are…Isn't it ironic. Finally, he wants to talk and you don't...Isn't it ironic," I sing changing up the lyrics to the popular Alanis Morissette song, but on the next verse I stay with the lyrics as written.

"Well, life has a funny way of sneaking up on you…And life has a funny, funny way of helping you out... Ironic," I sing. Smiling, I happen to glance over at the passenger seat. The ripped sonogram pieces had slid out of my bag and are laying bare on it.

Sadness fills the car, and my mood immediately shifts. Keeping my eyes on the road, I remove one hand from the steering wheel to wipe the tears slowly trickling down my face. "Isn't Ironic," I sing in a strangled voice.