Chapter 51
Ana
The Story of Anastasia Steele: A Diamond Made Under Pressure and A Lesson in Never Assuming
Previously, you may have known Anastasia Steele as Anastasia Grey, the wife of billionaire and CEO/founder of Grey Enterprises Holdings (GEH), Inc., Christian Grey. A staple in the tabloids, an occasional plus-one, and the low-key owner and operator of a subsidiary of GEH, Grey Publishing, various media outlets kept their readers entertained by speculating on her intriguing relationship with Grey, particularly after roughly a year went by without photos of them together.
Naturally, it was presumed that Steele was finally speaking for herself when she began to stretch her legs into more artistic avenues. Her arrival on the music scene had a rocky start. The tone of most articles covering her career jump ranged from dismissive to outright derisive. She was painted as another bored trophy wife, swapping out careers like seasonal clothes, trying to craft the age-old breakup album with all notoriety and no substance. No one expected anything to come of it.
But her lead single, Cardigan, stunned all of her critics, hitting the charts like a wrecking ball and receiving glowing reviews from every major music outlet. She was catapulted to number one with a haunting, quietly painful depiction of what appeared to be a warning of the perils of young romance, but with no specific references to her relationship with Grey. Also boasting a production credit from several time Grammy Award-winner Ezra Thomas, the tone of Steele's coverage immediately shifted from mocking to reverent. She continued to climb, unable to be dethroned from her number one spot by anyone but herself. When follow-up singles Wildest Dreams and Gold Rush were released, she occupied the number one, two, and three spots on the Billboard Hot 100, becoming the first artist to do so since The Beatles.
Yet, even as her success seemed deafening, Steele remained notably tight-lipped on the details of her personal life and how they related to her music. In response to a probing question from an interview for Entertainment Weekly, she responded with a patient smile, "I don't think it matters what I was thinking about when I wrote it. The only way I could be this expressive to this many people is if I don't explain. I hope that listeners hear what I have to say and make connections to their own lives. We'll all have a different experience from the same words, and I find that much more impactful." To another outlet, she simply replied, "Go back to the title of the whole project. That's the only answer you need."
One might hear this and assume a private split. The usage of her maiden name and a noticeably bare left ring finger alone could point to that as the obvious conclusion. But those closer to the inside of Steele's life have said otherwise.
"I saw them together at a private party her sister-in-law threw for her when the album came out. She and him, they're like magnets. Next to each other all night," a musician who worked on several of her songs revealed with a wistful grin. "He only had eyes for her. She was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. But I really don't think she's getting burned. I think she's just… warm and happy there."
Steele made an even bigger splash when she announced that in lieu of a tour, she'd be performing at three west coast stadiums, each for one night only. Tickets sold out within minutes of going on sale, fans traveled cross-country and internationally, and many wondered what kind of performance the breakout star had up her sleeve. The result was an experience that made even venues like Levi's Stadium, packed to the rafters at 107,550 attendees, feel intimate. On a set decorated as a woodland haven, straight of a book of fairytales, Steele forewent the expected route of backup dancers, fanfare, and opulence and simply returned to the music. With her close collaborator, Thomas, featured in her band, she transported fans back to where her "wildest dreams" began. In her most frank comment yet, she told the crowd that her set represented the mindset that she began writing with, equating it to standing at the edge of the woods and deciding to venture forward into the unknown.
As for the continued curiosity on the state of her marriage, crew members and musicians backstage report that the so-called obvious conclusion is laughable. "She'd walk offstage straight into his arms. They'd kiss in full view of everyone, but to them, they were alone. He was around in her dressing room, then watching from backstage. Their kids were there. It's honestly hilarious how wrong they got it."
Perhaps the most unanimous unexpected facet of the kaleidoscope that is Anastasia Steele: her kindness. "You meet her, and you almost expect her to be a jerk. On paper, she should be. Married to a billionaire, self-made millionairess, gorgeous, overnight success. But it's not like that at all. She doesn't like to talk about herself. She laughs uncomfortably when you bring up how talented she is, and she'd rather hear about you. She remembers your name, she thanks you for your contribution, she's just a normal, nice person." This testimony is backed up by photo after photo on social media of her meet and greets. Hugs, eye contact, long conversations, and silly poses were the norm, according to fans. "I asked her why she wasn't going on tour, and she said she doesn't want to leave her children for that long, but she's loved getting to meet so many of us. I told her I understood because I have my own kids, she asked to see pictures, and then she pulled out her phone and showed me photos of hers. I almost forgot that I had stood in line to meet her. It just felt like I was talking to another mom. She was so down to earth and sweet."
By all accounts, every mainstream assumption of Anastasia Steele is wrong. A venture assumed to be doomed from the start is a record-breaking sensation. A record assumed to be reflective of a crumbling marriage is just a whimsical journey into imagination. And a woman who you expect to hate, if only for her standing in life, is the one you want to root for. Unless she chooses to explain, we'll never know exactly the motivations behind the choices she's made, but perhaps the mystery is part of what allures so many to her. Perhaps there's something freeing about listening to a song with no explanation and envisioning yourself as the architect. Perhaps there's some redemption for all of us in seeing someone win when the loudest voices proclaimed that they would fail. With no confirmation from the starlet herself on what the future has in store for her, it's probably safe to say, expect the unexpected. But whatever it is, expect it to be brilliant.
Mia plops her phone down into her lap and turns to me with an excited grin. "They like you. They really like you!"
I'm in the car with Mia and Ezra, heading to the conference to watch Christian speak. Mia came along to support her brother since she was in the neighborhood, and Ezra came along because Mia was in the neighborhood. Those two. My final show concluded last night, and this morning, Beth sent me a surprise article from The New York Times. Mia insisted on reading it aloud.
"So, what do you think?" she presses, as I'm still sitting in stunned silence.
"I… wow."
"I love that they included the metaphor about your set. That was my favorite thing about the show," Mia continues. "Have you even processed all of that yet?"
"All of what?"
"I mean… the fact that you played sold-out stadiums."
"Oh, that." I twiddle my thumbs in my lap. "Kind of."
"She has a love-hate relationship with it," Ezra says.
"Not really. I loved so much about it. It was so surreal hearing people sing songs back to me, meeting them and hearing about everything it meant to them… it was so humbling. And it was the experience of a lifetime. I just don't think… I want it to be my life."
Mia sighs. "So, this is really it? The final shows?"
I smile, amused by the dejection in her tone, and nod. "Yes. I'm afraid so. I'll never forget it, but it's time to figure out the future."
"I liked being a groupie," Mia pouts. "And it was certainly an effective tactic against Carla-gate." Yes, it was. Part of me wonders if I would ever have taken the plunge and done it without that push.
"Are you going to go back to publishing?" Ezra asks.
"Maybe. Maybe I'll do a little of both. I'm not sure how that'll work. But my sabbatical is for one full year, so I guess I have some time to figure it out."
"Well, I think you should be really proud of yourself. The article was right. You did this all yourself." Ezra loudly clears his throat, making us both laugh. "You did it all yourself with some meddling from your friendly neighborhood producer," she amends.
"I am proud of myself," I admit, and it's the truth. "It was so out of my comfort zone from beginning to end, but look what it gave me. And when the kids are older, I'll be able to tell them about it. That makes me really happy."
"You're a wallflower no longer," Mia sighs.
"Are you still writing?" Ezra asks.
"Yes, but there's no agenda for it. I'm just doing it because it feels natural."
"Please keep me as a contact. Working with any other songwriter after you is going to feel like pulling teeth," he moans.
"Maybe you can put out albums without doing shows or something. Save Ezra from working with all those uninspired hacks."
"We'll see," I giggle. "No promises."
We pull up in front of the Grammy Museum. The event is being held on the roof of the building, at an event space called The Terrace. It's half indoor, half outdoor. Very environmental. Very LA. I'm sneaking in so as not to cause a scene. This is Christian's day.
There are a few paparazzi outside already. "I stay in front of you, Ana," Sawyer says firmly. I nod and wait for him to come around to my door, while Mia's CPO, Ryan, handles their door, and my other CPO, a new guy named Williams, forms a barrier between me and the photographers.
I give them a little smile, which is usually the most I do for them, and Sawyer escorts us efficiently towards the entrance. That was uneventful. They should be gone by the time I leave since they saw me already, so I quickly forget about it.
We go up into a private elevator and are escorted as discreetly as possible into the indoor area. They've added seating and converted it into a presentation room, and there are screens set up in the lobby and the outdoor area so everyone can watch. We sit in the back row, slipping in after everyone else has already taken their seats. Christian hasn't come out yet and everyone is lightly chatting.
I doubt he has his phone on him, but I text him anyway.
I'm hiding in the back. Ready to drool over you being all smart and important. Break a leg! Love you. x
As I put my phone away, the voices of a few women in front of me catch my attention above the rest of the crowd. "He's smart and hot and cares about the world. Are we sure they're still married?" Well, shit, if I wasn't listening before, I am now.
One of them laughs. "I read in The New York Times this morning that he was at all her shows and stuff. Plus there were all those photos a couple months ago of them kissing. And he was on her Instagram story." Yep, and he's about to be on it later, too, just so you'll see it.
"But she doesn't even wear a ring. If that guy gave me a giant diamond, I'd never take it off."
My thumb unconsciously starts to stroke my left ring finger. Fuck. Maybe I should have put them back on before this. We're together-ish, aren't we? Does it bother him that I haven't? I keep forgetting. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"Oh, come on, girls. There are plenty of married people who don't wear rings. It doesn't mean they're not together."
"I know that. I'm just saying why would anyone take off his ring?" They fall into a fit of giggles. It's complicated, okay?!
"He really is hot," one of them sighs. Yeah, he is, and he's mine.
Is he, though? You don't even live together. Oh, shut up.
"All I'm saying is I'm reeeeally gonna enjoy this presentation," one of them says huskily.
"Don't listen to them," Mia whispers in my ear.
I grumble some half-hearted response, and then my phone buzzes once in my pocket, signaling a text. I pull it out sullenly, but perk right up when I see that it's from Christian.
Drooling, Mrs. Grey? I hope no one is in the splash zone. I'll see you after, hopefully with both of my legs intact. Love you more.
Okay, calm down. He's saying that to you, not the ones who want to be you.
I'll fight you on that. (Turning my phone off now so I can drool without distraction) xxx
I shut it off and drop it into my bag, and within a few minutes, an older man comes out and introduces Christian. He gets thunderous applause and a few inappropriate whoops from the ladies on my last nerve. If I had a straw, there'd be spitballs hurtling.
He walks out looking cool as a cucumber and deliciously dressed in a perfectly tailored grey suit. "Good afternoon, everyone," he says smoothly. "I'm honored to have been asked to speak on this topic. It's very heartening to see so many businesses interested in giving back to the planet. Today we'll be going over some of the green initiatives we've been able to incorporate at my company, and some steps that businesses of any size can take to become more sustainable."
He effortlessly launches into the presentation, detailing various changes that GEH made on both micro- and macro-levels and succinctly explaining the ways that each one contributes to their goal of carbon neutrality. I'm fascinated and actually learning so much. Then he discusses things that smaller businesses can do, and even announces that GEH is going to begin offering environmental audits for other companies starting in September. I didn't even know that was a thing. Why is that so hot?
The whole thing lasts about an hour, but time felt like it flew, because that was genuinely one of the best lectures I've ever been to. And the professor is real easy on the eyes. As it wraps up, I'm feeling extremely crushy towards my husband. Wipe up that drool before someone sees.
A few people from the front rows step forward and begin engaging him in conversation, and Sawyer wants us out of there with so many people moving, so we hustle out onto the outdoor area. Mia hits the open bar while Ezra and I hang back in a corner, probably feeling equally weird and out of place. I'm mostly feeling grumpy that I can't stare at Christian anymore, even though the view is incredible, and you can see the Hollywood sign from up here. Eh. I liked the other view better.
But I decide that this is a good opportunity to catch up on the Ezra and Mia situation. "So, what's going on with you two?" I ask him with no preamble.
He quickly flickers his gaze over to me, then leans his head back against the wall and sighs. "I think I'm in trouble."
"Trouble?"
"I'm feeling things I haven't felt… in a very long time."
YES! "Really? But that's amazing. How is that trouble?" He doesn't answer right away, his expression turning melancholy, and I connect the dots. "Oh, Ezra. She would want you to be happy, though."
"She absolutely would. Maybe that's part of what makes it so hard to let go."
"I have no doubt that you'd be together and happy if she was still here."
"How would you feel if Christian died and you started to have feelings for someone that wasn't him?"
Christian dying. No, it's too unbearable to go there. "I don't know," I answer honestly. "I can't really empathize. But I can sympathize, and I love you both, and I think you both deserve to be happy."
He sighs and a half smile tugs at his lips as he watches Mia from across the room. "I thought it was just fun, but I think about her all the time."
"Just fun? You mean you've…?" He gives me a sideways glance. Obviously. "Oh."
"I gave up on love, Ana, but I'm not a monk."
I don't know why this makes me laugh, but it does, and he joins in. Mia joins us then, balancing three drinks between her hands. We both take one and all go for a sip at the same time.
"Oh, that's nasty," I mutter.
"Jesus, this is shit," Ezra chuckles.
"Ugh. I guess once you've had an Ezra cocktail, you can never go back," Mia remarks. I lightly choke on my drink. Is that a euphemism?
I set the offensive glass on a nearby table and spot Christian in a group of others just heading outside now. Seemingly out of nowhere, the same women from before gather around him and I root my feet to the floor to keep from going over there. You're being ridiculous! What are you gonna do, go pee on him?
"Clout chasers," Mia mutters, giving them daggers.
He smiles at them politely, blandly, as they pepper him with questions. I resign myself to stand here in purgatory, watching other women salivate over him, when he turns his head and makes eye contact with me. I give him a small smile, and I expect that to be the end of our little moment.
I hear him just within earshot as he turns back to the women. "Ladies, if you'll excuse me, I need to go say hi to my wife." They turn their heads over to me, one turning green, one going white as a ghost, and one blushing crimson. All in all, a satisfying display of color. It's all I can do to keep from swooning. Christian Grey, I have never loved you more.
He heads over to me, and I vaguely notice several turning heads and widening eyes as he closes the gap between us, but who really gives a fuck right now. He stops in front of me, puts a hand behind my neck, and leans down and kisses me lightly. I fight to keep it venue-appropriate. "Hi," he says quietly. "I don't see any drool."
"Hi," I breathe. "I mopped it all up in time. You've never been more hot to me."
He laughs in startled delight. "What? Why?" Oh, did I say that out loud?
Mia snickers into her putrid drink. "I'll tell you later," I whisper. "Anyway, your presentation was incredible. I learned so much. I have a lot of questions, actually. And I'm so proud of you." I stroke his cheek and kiss him one more time.
I pull away and he blinks a few times. "You are?"
"Of course I am. I almost wish I'd known you in college. Lectures would have been so much more bearable with you at the front."
He grins impishly. "That probably would have led to some inappropriate conduct from the two of us, Mrs. Grey."
I smile at the direction my thoughts take. "On second thought, you are too right, Mr. Grey. Best that we met when we did."
"Congrats, Christian. I didn't even fall asleep!" Mia says, pulling him in a hug.
"I want to environmentally audit my whole life," Ezra adds, shaking his hand.
The doors to the lobby open again, signaling that another presentation is starting soon. He turns and sighs. "I have to be here for a few more hours or Ros will hang me by the balls."
"Ana," Sawyer interjects. Yeah, yeah, I know.
"Well, we can't have that. I'll go back to the hotel and get the kids settled for the flight tonight and see you later?"
He sighs again, contentedly this time. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
"I know. I can't wait." His tie is a tad crooked, so I adjust it, then pat his chest. "Okay, go be important. I love you."
He picks up the hand at his tie and kisses it. "I love you more."
"We still have to fight about that." He gives me one last winning smile, then heads inside for the next lecture.
Mia and Ezra happily discard their drinks and we head back to the private elevator. I'm feeling much lighter than I have in a while, the stress of the last few weeks finally starting to melt away. Soon, we'll be back home and able to get back to working on us, a process I'm greatly enjoying. I'm actually feeling hopeful for the future, and at the same time, I'm not even afraid of it. Wait until Catherine hears about this.
My cheerful thoughts deflate a bit when we step out of the elevator and I see that the paparazzi outside have multiplied. Sawyer instructs Ryan to walk behind Mia and Ezra and he takes his place in front of me. Williams is already waiting with the car, so it's just a matter of getting through it.
"Ready?" Sawyer asks. I nod.
"Anastasia, are you here for Christian?"
"Is the divorce off?"
"Anastasia, are you moving to LA?"
"Can't you give us a smile, Anastasia?"
I keep my eyes down and Sawyer pushes us through the crowd. This is one of the more aggressive ones I've experienced. After what feels like a long time, we finally reach the car. Sawyer opens the door and turns back to look around and Williams and Ryan are on the other side getting Mia and Ezra inside. I start to climb in, and then I'm slammed against the side of the car.
I yelp in surprise as I feel a strong blow against the bottom of my ribs and arms scrambling around my waist. An unfamiliar male voice starts shouting very close to me, mostly just pleading and saying my name. I push back at him and frantically look around for security.
"Stop it! Get off of her!" I hear Mia screeching.
Almost as quickly as he got on me, he's ripped off of me and thrown to the ground. Sawyer all but tosses me into the car and slams the door, and I see Williams pinning the guy to the ground. Sawyer shouts something at Williams, then he and Ryan climb into the car and we speed away.
We're all silent for a moment, and I turn to see Ezra and Mia staring at me wide-eyed. Sawyer is ultra-focused on getting the car off of the property, and Ryan is typing quickly on his phone.
"What the fuck was that?" I finally say.
"Some crazy piece of shit jumped on you," Mia spits. "Are you hurt?"
"No, I don't think so." My shoulder is sore from where it hit the car, but I think I'll live.
"Hang tight, Ana, we'll pull over and check for injuries as soon as we're in a more private area," Sawyer informs me calmly.
"Where's Williams?"
"Staying behind to get info on the guy. Mr. Grey will undoubtedly want to press charges."
Oh, shit, Christian is going to commit murder. "Tell Taylor, but not Christian. I'll tell him myself later." Sawyer and Ryan are eerily silent. "Seriously. He's in the middle of something, I'm safe now, and we don't even know anything about the situation right now. I'm not giving him a heart attack when everything is fine."
"Fine," Sawyer relents. He nods to Ryan, who goes back to his phone. I slump back against the seat and close my eyes.
"It's for the best," Mia quietly agrees. "He'll straight up leave the building and bash that guy's brains in if he knows now. A Christian Grey assault charge in front of all of the cameras? Not a great look."
I give her a grateful smile. "Let's just get to the hotel."
The normality of returning to Teddy and Phoebe and getting everything packed to go home has calmed the adrenaline of the day's earlier incident. As far as injuries go, I have an impressive bruise forming on my shoulder blade, but I'm unharmed otherwise.
Sawyer has just briefed me on what Williams found out on the scene. Apparently, this guy was just someone with a press pass who shouldn't have had a press pass. A background check revealed that he recently got a job with a local LA tabloid, when a tip came that I was there today, this was his first assignment. When questioned, he just kept saying "she's supposed to be with me" and "just let me talk to her." He was unarmed, just aggressive and obsessed, as Sawyer put it. He timed the jump perfectly for the moment I was stepping into the car and Sawyer's body wasn't directly in front of me. Taylor has insisted on two men helping me into the car from now on, no matter what.
"So, it was some random, probably unavoidable incident?" I summarize.
"It seems that way," Sawyer grumbles. "But we're revamping standard protocol to make sure that this probably can't happen again."
"You handled it quickly. Thank you."
"Don't thank me, Ana. It might have been a different story if that fucker was armed."
I shudder. Yes, it might have. "Well, he wasn't. And I think I'll be staying home for a few days after that."
Just then, I hear the front door to the suite slam. Oh, boy. Here we go. "Sawyer!" I hear Christian yell. Thanks for listening, Taylor.
"Hi, Daddy!" Teddy calls.
Sawyer and I exit the bedroom to find Christian, practically with smoke coming out of his ears, leaning down to hug Teddy. "Hey, Tedster. I have to talk to Mommy and Sawyer real quick, okay? I'll see you in a couple minutes." He turns his gaze over to us and if looks could kill, we'd have just hit the floor.
"In here," I murmur, heading back towards the bedroom and closing the door behind us.
"Why the fuck was I not informed?" he hisses at Sawyer.
"Wait, Taylor didn't tell you?" Then how do you know?
He turns his glowering stare onto me. "No, Anastasia, but rumors were flying about the girl who got tackled just outside the building. I thought, 'Jesus, thank God Ana has a fucking security team,' only to leave and find it all over the internet that it was you, and no one thought to tell me," he yells. "What the fuck happened?!"
"I asked Taylor not to tell you," I quickly admit.
His eyes reveal betrayal, but before he can answer and before I can elaborate, Taylor speaks up. "We have footage now, sir. It's probably easier than explaining."
He nods tightly, turning away from me, and Taylor pulls up the email on his iPad. He turns it around to show us. It looks like it's from one of the photographers there, because it's decent quality. I see Sawyer observing the tight crowd, I see myself starting to get into the car, and then a figure jumps out from the crowd on the other side and grabs me. You can hear me scream, and Mia yelling at him. Even some of the photographers are telling him to back off, which I didn't notice at the time. It's kind of nauseating to watch back, but I realize then how quickly everything happened. The guy was barely on me for one full second before he was on the ground.
I let out the breath I was holding as it ended. "Taylor, Sawyer, I need to speak to Ana alone," Christian says coolly. "Go and discuss the new measures that need to be taken to make sure this never fucking happens again. If you're not sure yet, figure it the fuck out."
They nod and discreetly leave the room. When they close the door, Christian finally faces me. I'm surprised to see how vulnerable and… hurt he looks. "Why would you not tell me?"
"Christian," I whisper, unable to stand the distance between us. I close the gap and wrap my arms around him. He doesn't reciprocate, but he lays his head on the top of mine. Shit. He's really hurt. "Listen to the whole explanation, and then if you want to be mad, I'll understand, but I was doing what I thought was best at the time. It happened so fast, and then I was already in the car and removed from the situation. Williams stayed behind to assess the scene and find out more about the guy, so it was being handled, but we didn't really know anything yet. You said you had to stay for another few hours, and everything was fine, everyone was safe, so I asked Sawyer and Taylor to let me tell you later. I don't know why I didn't think that it would be on the news, given that it was in front of a bunch of photographers, so that was my stupid oversight, and I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have found out like that. I wasn't trying to keep you in the dark, I just didn't want to worry you unnecessarily and risk you going outside and going postal on that guy. He's handled, he's in custody, he's being charged. I was always going to tell you. I just didn't want to ruin things for you today."
There's a few beats of excruciating silence after I finish talking, but finally he curls his arms around me. "Fuck, Ana," he breathes into my hair. "I do want to beat the shit out of that guy. No one fucking touches you."
"Well, if it makes you feel better, Sawyer knocked him around pretty good when he was getting him off me."
"It doesn't. I want it for myself," he says seriously.
"Christian, don't say things like that. That's exactly why I didn't want to tell you. You being arrested for assault would have done nothing to help. And by the way, Mia agreed with me."
He holds me a little tighter. "Rationally, I know it wouldn't be helpful. But rationality seems to leave the building with you, especially when it comes to your safety." He sighs heavily. "Next time, tell me. I might overreact, but I still need to know, Ana. And maybe it'll give me a chance to show you that I can be a little rational even in situations like that. Maybe I'll surprise us both."
"You would have known immediately if anything had seriously happened, I promise. But if there is a next time, I will tell you. I've learned my lesson. And I really hope you've learned yours and you won't commit murder, even if someone does bother me."
"I would miss you and the kids if I was in jail," he says thoughtfully. "I love you," he adds.
"You're not mad anymore?" Seriously?
"I'm mad that this ever happened, but I'm not mad at you. I plan to annoy the fuck out of you for the foreseeable future worrying about your safety, and I want our team to go over with security plan with a microscope. But I understand why you didn't tell me immediately, under the circumstances. And you're here, and that matters more than the what-ifs... for now. Though I would have happily left that conference. I didn't learn anything I didn't already implement. And at this point, I just want to get out of this insufferable city."
I laugh. "I mean, you were the smartest and hottest one there. And I love you more, by the way." I lean up and kiss him, parting my lips and enjoying the opportunity to be as passionate as I want with no witnesses this time. "Let's get out of this insufferable city." I take his hand and start to lead him back out with everyone else.
He pulls me back. "Wait." I turn and he grins salaciously. "Tell me why I've never been more hot to you."
"Oh. Those girls you were talking to when you saw me were talking about how hot you were and speculating on whether or not we're actually still together before your lecture. And their faces were very satisfying when you left them to come see me."
He laughs freely. "Did you have a jealous moment, Mrs. Grey?"
"I was not jealous," I dismiss. "I just kind of wanted to kill them," I mutter.
"Did we not just discuss that murder is not an option?"
"I'm allowed to want to kill everyone who wants you. Not that I blame them. Oh, also, I need to put you on my Instagram later." Take that, ladies.
"They clearly didn't read The New York Times this morning. We have been declared still together by many anonymous sources."
"You saw it?"
"I did. You're not the only one who's proud of their spouse today." He strokes my hair and smiles down at me. "And hopefully you know by now that you're the only one whose drool I care about."
"No worries there. I'm still rehydrating after today." He laughs again, a complete 180 to his mood when he first came in here. I love that we're okay again this quickly, and I pepper his face with kisses, landing the final one on his lips. "Come on. Let's go home."
A/N: I felt like I've covered Ana's music in enough detail that I didn't feel the need to do the concerts in the story. It would have felt repetitive and I was more interested in giving Christian his moment. But I thought it was important to kind of wrap up and summarize the whole situation in the way the media might have seen it.
Hopefully this was satisfying to those of you who have been begging for jealous Ana. It was bound to happen at some point. How do you think Ana handled her dangerous situation? Was she right for not telling him right away? Always interested in your interpretations. It seems like everyone's is different. Thank you for reading!