Here is the final part of The Coping Together weekend.

Feedback for the last few chapters was wonderful and inspiring so big thank you for that. Also some of you have mentioned how you like the writing style and although my grasp on English has improved significantly most credit should go to my wonderful beta. She is truly awesome in making my writing into something special.

As always I don't own the characters, just having some fun with them.

Anastasia POV

Sunday 19 May 2020

A trickle of perspiration between my bosom tickles me awake from my sleeping state.

Why am I so hot? Am I sick? Shit. I can't be ill. I've got so much to do.

I almost feel like I'm suffocating and trapped in a small space. In my groggy confused state, my brain slowly registers that something heavy is pinning me in place, making it almost impossible to move. The same heaviness is also adding pressure to my bladder that is bordering unbearable. Blinking my eyes open, consciousness inveigles its way to awareness and I look around me as I slowly recollect my surroundings.

Oh Toto! We're not in Kansas anymore.

A second of disorientation was all I had before last nights' events came back to me. I quickly glance down to my ring finger and inwardly groan.

Damn. Last night was real. I think I'd prefer Oz.

My eyes roam around the room to get my bearings and remember where I am.

Definitely prefer Oz.

Responding to my bodies need to pee, I move to rise but find myself immobile. Around my waist is a strong muscular male arm. My eyes instinctively roam following the length of the arm that is attached to a very alpha male body whose prone dead weight is holding me down.

GULP!

A shirtless Christian Grey is wrapped around me like an anaconda. How he ended up shirtless, I don't know, because the last I remember he had a shirt on. My makeshift fortress of pillows and rolled blankets are gone. Obviously, it was a pathetic attempt to define boundaries but my intent was clear.

So much for personal space, not that there's a whole lot on this double bed.

I try to wiggle out of Christians death grip, but he's having none of it. If anything, his arm squeezes me even tighter. Blowing the rats nest of hair off my face in frustration, I try to think of another way to get to the bathroom without having to wake the Sleeping Beauty on top of me.

Fuck Christian.

I try to turn my body around to face him but realize his legs are tucked between my own. His other arm is under my pillow and his head is resting on my body where the side of my back meets my underarm. Being so encased in Christian's embrace, there's no way I'll be able to get out of bed without waking him and as my need for the toilet is greater than my attempts to be considerate, I purposefully untangle my legs and pull my arm and upper body from him dislodging his head from its human pillow.

Despite my efforts to wake him, Christian still doesn't lessen his grip. Instead he moves his dislodged head onto my pillow and resumes snoring lightly right into my ear.

Ah Christ, Christian. I need to pee. LIKE REALLY PEE!

Well. There's nothing for it. I need to get him off of me one way or the other.

''Christian.'' I call quietly so I don't startle him too much, but he doesn't respond.

Ah, Fuck it.

''Grey!'' I bark and elbow him in the mid-section.

Oh, thank God.

Christian sits up with lightning speed and I quickly take this opportunity to make my escape shifting my legs from under him and practically falling off the bed in the process. I stifle a small smile seeing Christian looking so adorable with his hair askew and startled expression. I don't give myself too much time to admire him though cause nature is calling so I bolt to the bathroom to do my business just in time.

Looking myself over in the mirror while I washed my hands, I notice that despite seven hours of undisturbed sleep, my eyes look tired my face haggard.

God, I look awful. I need to get that spa day with Kate. This mother-with-quintuplets look does not agree with me, especially considering I'm nineteen for Christ sake.

Looking down at the counter I and send out a quick thanks to whoever's kind consideration put a few products like face wash, and a toothbrush out. Taking note that there's only one toothbrush I, with a mischievous grin, take advantage of getting to the bathroom first.

HA! The Spoils of war are mine.

I'm a giggling idiot, I know, but feel no guilt since Grey hogged most of the bed all night.

He couldn't bloody well keep to his side despite me going through great efforts to ensure the boundaries wouldn't get crossed. Useless pillows! Well. At least he didn't fart and fluff the blankets unnecessarily. Yuk, gag, eww.

I chuckle with the memory of that too rare girls' night out my senior year in college. One of the girls graphically shared her first years together with her husband. I would've never imagined men could be so gross if she didn't tell me. Even my ex-boyfriend Henry, who was ever the gentleman, would never have been so crass as to expel gas whilst in the throes of passions. But who knows? It's not like I have an address book of experience. Maybe familiarity breeds habit and it takes time for a guy to share that side of themselves. My dad was the only man that I've ever lived with and he was the epitome of a real Gentleman. If he ever passed gas, it wasn't around me.

What the fuck am I rambling about?!

Shaking my head to clear the web of what-the-fuck, I head back into the bedroom. I notice Christian is awake and sitting up against the headboard waiting for his turn, I suppose to get ready for the day.

''Good morning Christian. How'd you sleep?" I say dripping with sarcasm "Oh wait. Let me answer that question.'' I try to keep a straight face, but it's hard with the sheepish look he is giving me. And the fact that he is shirtless is distracting as hell.

''I'd make a guess that you slept pretty good. At least, by the sound of your snoring it was obvious you slept quite well. And how do you think I fathomed that conclusion, you ask? Good question. It could be because you were snoring in my ear. Boundaries Christian. What part of 'stay on your side' did you not understand?'' I ask with a raised brow.

He's got on this file white teeth smile now. A mischievous, perky, pretty white teeth smile that tells me he's not sorry at all.

Ah hell. A shirtless and sheepish Christian is distracting me from the serious point I'm trying to make. Not to mention the fact that I think this Grey is my favourite type of so far.

''The 'on your side' part" he says flippantly. Fuck he's so adorable and sexy as fuck, but I make a concerted effort to keep my eyes on his face. That perfect flawless face with shimmering smiling playful eyes.

God Damn no man should wake up looking like that. So, fucking unfair.

Here I am scruffy and looking I've been run over by a bus and there he sits fresh as a daisy and hot as fuck.

"Good morning Ana" he says in his sing-song voice. "You're right. I did sleep very well. The best nights rest in a long while.'' He answers jubilantly, although the last bit is said in soft wonderment. Odd. Why would that be surprising? Maybe he's one of those people who can only rest properly in their own bed? Hmphf.

''And, you can't make me accountable for actions while in a sedate state. As for snoring, I highly doubt it. I don't snore. Fact.''

Yah right. Don't snore my ass. Bloody foghorn was what woke me up, ass. Well, that and an unprecedented urge to pee.

I was about to give my witty rebuttal but was struck dumb completely, losing all train of thought as Christian swings the sheets off of him rising out of bed displaying all his morning manliness. This man is a walking anomaly. How does one man have a face that of a fallen angel, and own a body as defined as bloody Aquaman! I literally have to choke down the saliva pooling inside my mouth. All conscious thought 'poof'.

Asshole did this on purpose, I bet. Sassing his sass in those low hanging flannels.

Good Lord, Grey! You really are a work of art. How often do you exercise to look like that? You look like you've been bloody photo-shopped.

It wasn't until he started laughing out loud that I realized I had said that last bit out loud. And although I'm not sure which portion I said, the look on his face says it all. Smug bastard.

Shit!

Yep, total brain to mouth malfunction making me blush. Christ now for sure he won't take me seriously and I need to address the whole Mrs. Lincoln issue before we leave this bedroom. I refuse to move forward with our arrangement if he can't keep his old bitch on a leash.

Leash and muzzle if possible.

Christian stops at the doorway to the bathroom, turns looking down at himself, running a hand across his abdomen before looking up to me all bashful-like.

As if he doesn't know his body is to die for.

''I…um…I'm actually not really conscious of how my body looks" he explains.

Oh, you've got to be kidding me. This man cannot come by looking like that 'naturally'. That's just insane.

"I do keep myself active, but more to keep my sanity than for appearances. I run almost every day and I work out with my trainer every weekday. Running helps me organize my thoughts more clearly. I set a pace keeps my focus on my breath and that discipline is the tool I use to prioritize my day. Running for me is like yoga for some.

Working out with my trainer helps maintain my stress level. It's surprising how much calmer you feel after a few rounds of strategic punching and kicking.'' And that cocky smirk is back. ''You flatter me, however unintentional your compliment may have been. I guess you're not completely immune to my charms as I thought you were.'' He finishes with a chuckle.

''Piss off Grey. I never said you were an eye sore and I'd be lying if I didn't think you weren't a very handsome man. I do have eyes you know.'' His face lights up with that gorgeous smile of his.

'' Don't let it get to your head pretty boy. Like most photographers, I appreciate all forms of art and admire physical perfection as much as the tourists admire Michelangelo's David. It'll take more than a handsome face and hard body before I take a turn on the Merry-Go-Round with a guy.'' Now it's my turn to smirk.

''Thanks Anastasia." He says sarcastically. "What a way to make a man feel special.'' He grumbles as he turns into the bathroom. ''By the way, Taylor brought us a change of clothes last night. I hope he got everything you need.'' He points to two bags sitting at the foot of the bed. Christian turns back to pick one of them up before he disappears in the bathroom.

"Hey! Did you use my toothbrush?"

"Yes, dear." I reply smiling broadly. Gotcha!

I know I'm quashing Christian's ego, playing down his near perfection, but I need to define the rules, more for me than him maybe. I wasn't lying for the sake of deflating that ginormous ego of his. I am very drawn to him physically. Please, how could I not be? The man is a Greek God personified. Don't get me started on the kisses we shared yesterday.

Oh. My. God. Have you ever seen one of those kisses in the movies where the guy slowly leans in and gently caresses his lovers' lips before he changes his stance in preparation for a deeper kiss? His lips dance firmly, gently coaxing, pulling their desires and you melt just watching it? Yah. That was me. Weak kneed. Blood on fire. Damp underwear. That was all me.

It would be so easy to get lost in Christian if I allow my libido to take the lead. But the cold hard truth is I want, no need, more than a strong sexual pull. The way he treats his lovers is appalling. That's not to say that BDSM is wrong in any way. I mean the way he uses those girls as if they were disposable toys. That's not me. No self-respecting girl would want that for themselves and I don't see myself stepping into that kind of shit pile. Ever.

Growing up I was taught self-respect and my dad was a wonderful example of the way a man should treat a woman. He may not have remarried after the divorce, but there were a couple of women he dated seriously over the years.

The relationships Christian involved himself in were devoid of compassion, respect, or any feeling beside lust. I don't think I could ever let a man take over my life so completely. I wouldn't feel right developing any sort of relationship with a man with zero morals. I'd be content with celibacy and my pink BOB before lowering my standards.

Grabbing my bag I dress quickly into a pair of skinny blue jeans and a white shirt. I notice that the clothes, including underwear, are brand new with tags still attached.

How in the world was Taylor able to get them here by nine in the morning and how did he know my size? And who in their right mind pays three-hundred dollars for a fucking bra and panty ensemble?

I'm pulling at the bra and underwear seams checking the lining for gold thread or diamond studs sewn onto the fabric, anything that could justify such a ridiculous price for underwear. Christ! I would've been fine with Fruit of the Loom, but no, this shit isn't even Victoria Secret which I'd only buy myself for those special occasions. But this shit is…this is custom made from France. The lace fabric is so soft I swear it must be Egyptian cotton or some ten-thousand thread count material.

After putting it on, I can already feel the difference. I sigh in utter relief. My girls never felt so at home or supported like this ever. I'm never taking off this bra. I felt feminine, beautiful, and yet surprisingly comfortable. I never thought those words would ever be congruous to underwear before, but there it is. Who knew?

''A personal shopper from Neiman Marcus put the clothes together and Taylor simply brought them over.'' I was so deep in my own head that I didn't notice Christian came back into the room.

''I'll be sure to thank Taylor later for picking them up. The personal shopper has very good taste.'' I say, meanwhile I'm still in seventh heaven trying out my new intimates.

Then I get a good look at what Christian is wearing and roll my eyes. This must be some kind of a joke, because now we match. He has a similar pair of blue jeans, which, thank heavens, are not a tight fit. He's put on a white T-shirt similar to mine too for fuck sake. We look ridiculous. Christian just smirks.

''We have about an hour before we need to go down for breakfast so I guess now would be the best time to discuss some wedding details as well as some other things we need to address. Also, don't forget we have that interview to do this afternoon.'' I just nod. We both know that by 'other things' he's referring to my conversation with Elena Bitchface Lincoln last night.

''Let's start with the date of the wedding. We both are in a hurry to make this official so I was thinking we could get married before my birthday next month. What do you think of Sunday June 16th?"

''Oh wow, that's really soon. I guess if we keep it somewhat small and simple, we could organise the wedding quickly.'' I think out loud. For the sake of my company the sooner we sign that marriage licence the better.

''I want a three-ring circus even less than you do, so I'd be happy with just family and close friends. We can use the backyard here as the venue to keep it simple and private.''

''If your parents will be fine with hosting then I'm on board. I bet Adele will be in seventh heaven if we let her plan and organise the whole thing.''

''Ok then. That's settled. Now, I'd like to talk about last night. What did Elena say to you yesterday? It's been on my mind and bothering me like a pebble in my shoe.''

I exhale and pray that we won't get into another shouting match. There's no need for the whole house to know this shit, well not like this anyway. Besides, it's not my story to tell.

Who am I kidding? I'm not going to sugar coat my reservations regarding Elena Lincoln, and I know Christian will blow no matter how I phrase it.

''Can I ask you a question before I get into my play by play?'' It's evident he's unsure what to make of my request but nods in confirmation after a bit.

''You told me that Elena is the one who would find and vet your playmates, correct? Did you pay her a kind of finder fee for it?''

''Yes. She did find my partners. Being who I am, I can't afford to be caught trolling clubs or be seen anywhere with women in the community where a persistent reporter could spot me. And yes, I would compensate Elena for her time and effort.''

Wow, he says it so casually, like it's the most common thing in the world. Elena picks his girls like the personal shopper picked out our clothes, except I'm pretty sure the former is illegal. The fact that Elena honed Christian at such a young age, manipulating him into believing she's more heaven sent than the abuser she is churns the acid sitting in my stomach. To this day the man calls her one of his closest friends. It's obvious that Elena Lincoln's brainwashing was so successful, her powers of manipulation so strong that it could blind a man of Christian's character to her faults and the truth that he was indeed abused and not saved.

I refuse to believe a man such as Christian; a man who garners control in all things; whose determination and drive has established the Grey name in business as something to be revered, feared and respected globally, would not know that his most trusted confident is, bluntly put, pimping him out. It's in equal parts disgusting as it is baffling.

"Ana. I can understand from the outside looking in how unorthodox my relationship with Elena may seem, but you need to look at it from my perspective to get a clearer picture. She's controlling, yes, but no more so than I am in what I do. She's exacting, which makes her a discerning businesswoman.

''Hmphf. I call bullshit Christian. She's a Pimp. She's polished, refined, sophisticated and has fantastic posture, especially in heels, but a Pimp, nonetheless. She's established herself superbly catering her solicitations to those with refined needs.'' I say gesturing my hand toward him. Then I watch Christian's face slowly transform first from stunned silence to growing rage as he registers what I just said.

Guess it's my turn to be on the receiving end of his outburst.

''What the fuck are you implying? Those are some serious accusations Anastasia and they're obviously based on your biased judgemental attitude. Who the fuck are you to be pointing fingers and labelling people you don't and won't care to know never mind try to understand?'' he hisses menacingly.

The truth will always hurt, and his reaction to this truth is a testament to the depth of Elena's deceit.

''I am not making any accusations, Christian. My conclusions are based on facts from my conversation with your 'friend'. Keep in mind, she approached me. She emphasized that a man of your nature was never designed for an 'arrangement' such as ours. She encouraged me to 'guard myself' and to not take your proposal, or acts of affection, as personally as she perceives I would and she graciously offered her services when our 'relationship' reaches its' ultimate end.

She told me that she is quite known and established throughout the community, as well as the higher social circles. As with you, she was offering her 'kind' services and is willing to introduce me to appropriate gentlemen more suited for my needs, for a fee, of course. You know, the kind of men that would keep me in the lap of luxury after you dump me. If that doesn't sound like a Pimp, or Madame, then please broaden my understanding. Jesus Christ Christian! You fucking PAY her for Pussy!"

"We establish clear contracts. They aren't prostitutes Ana!"

"Po-ta-to, po-tah-to Christian You honestly don't see it do you? Do you actually believe Elena is extolling special favours for a friend? Put these women on a street corner, line them up against the wall, choose your flavour and pay up. Elena linking you up with these women for sex is pimping. Can you not see that? What the fuck else would you call it?'' I'm getting all worked up, but I manage to keep my voice down despite the huge desire to yell at the top of my lungs.

Christian is speechless. And for the life of me I can't discern if he is mad at me, Elena, or himself. Still, I feel a huge weight lift off my chest having just vomited my concerns for him.

''I really fucking don't care Christian. I honestly don't, but by God this is my last warning. You and Elena can live in whatever delusional relationship you choose to have with each other. Line the Hags pockets with your money. Fuck her and every other woman she brings to you seven ways to Sunday, I. don't. give. A. damn, but could you please keep her the FUCK away from me. How many expletives do I need to make to emphasize this point? I warn you now, if I get another proposition from her like I got last night, I won't be responsible for my actions. I truly won't. This really is my last warning because I'm at the end of my rope where that woman is concerned. If she won't back off there isn't enough detergent in the world that could wash away the dirt I'd release to the public. I may be the new kid around the block, but I'm a fast learner and I know how to make or break someone if the need arises. I'm willing to bet a million that not only would the press find that kind of story interesting, but Seattle's police department as well."

I am so riled up I'm shaking, but what blows me away beyond belief is what follows.

''You must have misunderstood her Ana. I know Elena can be harsh most time, but it's not like her to do something like that. I'll let the pimp comment fly this time, but just because you don't understand our world doesn't give you justification for name calling.''

I have no words. I'm completely gobsmacked. What a bloody idiot. This man is unbelievable. Even with the cold hard facts he is still denying the truth about Mrs. Lincoln. I think my brain just zapped. Blink. Silence. Blink.

Holy shit. Like .god, unbefuckinglievable! If I didn't hear it come out of his own mouth, I never would've believed it.

A wave of pity overcomes me in comprehension. Elena's poisonous evil has seeped so deep into the essence of who he is he can't see the shit from the asshole, but fuck that pile is his own. If this delusion is his happy space, so be it. Who the fuck am I to disturb him? I lay no claim on the man.

''Right. Ha. You know, Christian, I don't care if you believe me. I've said my piece and it's an honest sharing. You asked and as God is my witness it's the truth. My conversation with Elena deeply disturbed me. This, you are disturbing. Obviously, my truth has no bearing on you and that's fine, but what happens next DOES. You want to protect her, good for her. But if I recall correctly, you've already reneged on your part of our bargain. I trusted you to keep, in confidence, the agreement between us and your male relations. My next steps are dependent on what you decide to do. I demand that she keep her distance from me and for you to keep your fucking mouth shut. Do not share any more personal information about me with her. Yes, you bloody bastard I know! You're such a fucking idiot to think Elena would keep your secret. She told me that you shared with her the reason for our farce of a marriage. But if you disclosed to her my part of the agreement and jeopardise my claim on my company, I will fucking nail you to the wall. TO THE FUCKING WALL GREY! Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?"

I feel as if I've unleashed the floodgates of hell in my righteous outrage as Christian audibly swallows taking in my threat for what he knows I will fulfil should he step a toenail out of line.

''Crystal, Anastasia. I'll speak to Elena and hopefully we can overcome this situation.''

"Who is 'we'? You and I or you and Elena?"

"I mean us Ana. 'WE' as in 'US'. I want us to move forward from this."

"Do whatever the fuck you need to do so it gets into her bleached head that she needs to keep away from me and my interests. I will not bring this up again. Next time, I'll handle her personally, and you might not like the fallout when I do."

''Ok, I get it Ana. I do."

Taking a deep and fortifying breath, I to try to calm my anger. Christian, wisely, keeps silent as I close my eyes willing the quiet around us to cool my temper.

"Very well, Christian. Let's move on. It's time to head downstairs anyway."

''Yes. Ok, let's go face my family.'' And just as he's about to open the door, Christian stops and says more to the door than to me in a quiet voice, "I'm sorry Ana for not telling you that I confided in Elena about our predicament. I'm also very sorry for Elena coming at you like that. I still think both of you misunderstood each other.'' Oh, here we go again with this bullshit. ''I want to thank you for doing this with me. I know you're taking a lot on with me and my baggage. I know it can't be easy, but please believe me when I say that I am trying." Then he opens the door and walks out.

I'm still standing at the open doorway alone stunned by the sincerity of his parting words. Christian is only a few steps ahead but looks back over his shoulder, stops and holds out his hand for me to take. Shaking myself out of my stupor I tentatively reach out with my own hand which he grasps firmly pulling me closer to him as we make our way down the stairs.

Brunch is an awkward and slightly tense affair. Mia is sulking for reasons unknown. Gah, like the Princess needs a reason to be a brat. Mrs. Grey is putting on the appearance of joy but is failing miserably. Kudo's to her for trying though. Not sure how long that's going to last. Elliot, unfortunately, is nursing a hangover and without his usual exuberance to add some levity to the atmosphere, the gathering around the table is bordering dismal. The only ones who truly seem to be happy about our engagement are Carrick, Theo, and Adele.

Adele is practically glowing when she says, ''Ok kids, I know that maybe I'm rushing into this, but I'm just too excited to wait. Have you been able to discuss between the two of you any plans for your wedding? Date, place, venue?''

God, I feel so guilty that I feel sick deceiving her like this. I can only pray and hope that when the truth is revealed and this marriage charade is over, Adele and I can still be friends. She's been a boon welcoming me into this family.

''Actually, yes Grandma. Ana and I were just discussing this upstairs before we came down and agreed on the most important things concerning the wedding.'' Christian steps in.

''How lovely." There's a pregnant pause as she waits for Christian to continue. "Well Christian, out with it! I'm not that young so don't leave us hanging here!'' she exclaims.

I hold my breath, because I just don't know what reaction we're going to get when he announces the date we came up with.

"We don't want a big to-do. We'd like to have a small, intimate wedding and after some persuasion, Anastasia has agreed to marry me on the 16th of June, right before my birthday this year.''

Silence. Deafening silence descends upon the room. I glance over to Grace and as predicted she is not happy at all. If she were Medusa the hatred in her eyes would turn me into stone. "Why the rush? Is there a particular reason you need to get married so quickly?'' Grace's insinuation, delivered with barely contained anger, lies thick in the air, her insult as sharp as a slap to the face.

How ironic. Grace believes I'm trapping Christian into a rushed marriage because I'm pregnant. Little does she know. Well, little does anyone know really. I suspect once our wedding date is made public pregnancy would be the natural explanation for most people. I make a mental note that Christian and I will have to set the record straight during this afternoon's interview. Grace's misguided assumption irritates me, but I keep mum. This is Christian's family, so it's his call how he'd like to handle it.

''In fact, mom, there is.'' Christian pauses and all the women gasp. Grace and Mia in horror and Adele with elation.

''But no. Not for the reason you may be thinking. Anastasia is not pregnant. We do have our motives, but it's not because there is a Grey heir in the making, although, I look forward to the day she gifts us with children.''

Ah. Say what?! What the fuck is he going on about? The man's addled. Maybe our conversation shook him up a lot more mentally than it was intended.

"This may seem rushed to all of you, having just met Ana, but we've been together for a while now and feel this is the next step for us. We don't want to wait any longer than we deem nessesary. The other more mundane point is because after my birthday, I'll have to do a lot of travel in Asia for business, and Ana will be taking over her dad's company. All those factors would delay the wedding for at least half a year or even more and that's just too long for us. We want to be together now before our lives get too busy with outward distractions.''

''I, for one, think that's very romantic, Christian. It will be hard to put such an event together in a month, but if we put our connections to good use, it could be managed.'' Thank heaven for Adele. I'm not sure if Grace and Mia are buying into Christian's explanation, but Carrick and Theo throw in their two cents boosting Adele's enthusiasm.

Before anybody could say another word Christian's phone rings and, once again, he excuses himself. Seeing how the ladies have settled in to discuss wedding plans, Carrick and Theo leave the table, too, leaving me to deal with Grace's hostility, Mia and an exuberant Adele.

Oh, for fucks sakes Christian. Do you not recall the last time you left me with your womenfolk? I'm afraid this time the damage might be irreparable.

''Mother," Grace says, "I understand your excitement, but there is no way we can arrange a proper ceremony in less than thirty days. It takes months to arrange everything for something like the Coping Together Ball and considering Christian's standing, this wedding will need to be an even bigger event.'' I do believe Grace is subtly suggesting we rethink our chosen date and move it further away. Like as far away as forever if I have my guess.

''Mrs. Grey, I think we both know your son's aversion to large gatherings and high society pretention. Despite being a CEO of fortune 500 companies, we know Christian is a very private person and I'm not a fan of crowds either. While the proposal was romantic and perfect, the aftermath of congratulations from the crowd of strangers made us both feeling uncomfortable. Christian and I agreed we don't care for an extravagant wedding. We would prefer the ceremony to be more intimate, quiet, and personal. Just family and closest friends…, here on the estate, if that's ok with you.'' Please, please, please Mrs. Grey just go with this. I'm not prepared for an argument, but it seems my pleas fall on deaf ears.

''I hear what you're saying Anastasia. But as you have pointed out, Christian is the owner and CEO of a highly respected and renowned company. It will be expected that his wedding be the social event of the year and while GEH is a strong company, we would be remiss to alienate his business partners by shunning them from the celebration.'' She answers with pursed lips.

Lord help me. I will myself not to lose my cool with my future mother in law, but her insistence on my wedding is grating on my already frayed nerves.

''Christian and I had discussed this too. He wants to keep his work and personal life as separate as possible. He confessed that he hasn't very many friends outside of family and as you know I have no family left and only a very few close people here.'' I can feel a lump forming in my throat as I finish. I know where my thoughts are taking me and I refuse to go there in front of Grace and Mia.

Do NOT lose it now Ana. You will not show vulnerability in front of this woman.

With another deep and fortifying breath, I say ''Christian thinks it would be uncomfortable and awkward to have 500 guests, 99% of whom we don't really know.'' I state looking directly at Mrs. Grey. She can't be so obtuse as to think Christian would actually go for a huge wedding. Was she not listening to him earlier when he told her what we wanted for our day? She, of all people, should know her own son. Christian hates huge social gatherings, so why is she pushing for a three-ring circus? Is this just her selfish need to show off, or does she have some other hidden agenda?

''Oh my God! What is your problem, Anastasia?''

Ah…there she is. I was wondering when Mia would make her great entrance. I was hoping her silent treatment would hold off for a while longer but hopes and wishes are like rainbows. They never last. The fates are especially cruel today as Mia's selfishness rises from the deep.

''We all know that a big event such as Christian's wedding would benefit his business. You keep spewing off how you think you know my brother, as if you're in a position to know what Christian wants, but what about us? What about my mother. If you bothered to care anything other than yourself, you would know that mom has held a long-time dream to organise a big white wedding for one of her children. You have no family left. Your father is gone, boo hoo. News flash Ana! Life goes on! Why do we all have to deny our wishes of a fairy tale wedding just because your unsocial ass has no friends. You can't seriously be that selfish!''

Shock. I'm in absolute shock. I look to Grace and see her eyes widen in surprise and Adele looks like she's about to have a heart attack.

This may not be my real wedding, but Mia doesn't know that. I don't understand her animosity toward me. I cannot comprehend why she would direct the magnitude to her spiteful mean spirit on me. My head is spinning as her insensitive vitriol knocks me off kilter. What the fuck did I ever do to her?

Your father is gone.

Her words echo over and over in my head as the realization of this fact is hitting me like a Mac truck. One day I do hope to marry to the man of my dreams. One day I will find a man whom I can love and want to devote my happily ever after.

Your father is gone.

Mia's heartless comments dig deeper into my consciousness and in my minds eye I see all the special moments I will never be able to share with my beloved father.

My successes with Steele Advertising, because now I am more determined than before to ensure my father's legacy achieves nothing less than greatness. My wedding. My first born. All of it. The reality of my father gone, all the pain of his passing that I've been holding back for the last few months, knowing that I will never be able to share any of these special moments with him anymore is crawling slowly to the surface.

Your father is gone!

The words keep ringing in my mind over and over like the classic sound of an old phone. Ring. Your father is dead…Ring. Your father is dead… Ring. Your father is dead…and unlike the Wizard of Oz, the Wicked Witch of the West isn't dead. She's sitting across from me green and sinister.

I turn toward Adele, who I know will be disappointed, but she is the matriarch of this family and will need to deal with the blowback of what I know will come.

''I apologize in advance Adele. You really are so very lovely, and I don't mean to disrespect you." I give her a small smile as I turn to face Mia.

Devoid of any emotional or physical expression, I tell her solemnly, fiercely, with quiet deadness "do whatever the fuck you want Mia. Make this wedding whatever you imagined it should be, wherever you feel would best serve you and bring it all to Christian for his final approval. Your right. This is his wedding, and since you seem to have a good understanding of your brother, knock yourself out. Do let me know if I need to choose a wedding gown or would it be better to send my measurements instead? Fuck. Who am I kidding? Of course, you're Ms. Fashion Queen who'd know better than little selfish me. That being said, I think my input here is unnecessary so I'll leave you ladies to it."

Rising from my chair, I give Adele a quick kiss on the cheek and walk straight out of the house. I feel numb and I honestly don't give a flying fuck what's going on behind me. This is not my wedding. Christian is not the groom of my choice, nor is this fucking family.

Your father is gone.

I must've walked out pretty quickly because I see myself standing on the curb outside the family estate gates. Looking down the street I see an empty cab leaving another estate home and I quickly run out onto the road to wave him down. I can hear voices behind me, but it's white noise. The voices get louder, but I don't register them into my consciousness because all I hear is

your father is gone and never coming back.

I jump into the cab and plead with him to drive. "Please just drive away from here. Take me anywhere, just drive wherever as long as it's far away from here."

I never noticed the tears tracking down my face or the strain sound of my voice. I tune out everything, the passing scenery, the breeze from the slightly open window, the smell of the ocean water, even the damn voices in my head. Those four words officially put me into an auto pilot state and I feel completely dead, non-human. My mind knows what I've come to understand that going numb is the only way I think I'm going to survive this.

So while we are on lock down and staying at home for over a month now it is harder to find some alone free time to write in peace so please be patient with me. I won't abandon this story and if I don't update often it is due to real life.

Also I wish for all the readers to stay safe during this Corona crisis. Let's help those heroes in white coats to fight the pandemic with staying inside and practicing social distance.

Laters, Ilenka.