Chapter Eight

Taylor is in the foyer when we return home, and greets us, "Welcome back. You're looking much better, ma'am."

"I'm feeling much better, thank you. Is José still here?"

"At the breakfast bar. He asked after you, so I took the liberty of assuring him that you'd soon be home, and would want to see him before he leaves."

"Thank you, Taylor."

He's walking away, when Christian touches a hand to the small of my back, and kisses my cheek, before saying, "I'll just take a quick shower. I have several miles of dirt to wash off."

"I want to make us breakfast, after José is gone."

"Are you asking permission?"

"No, I..." When the image I see is of his cheeky grin, I realize that he's teasing. "Oh, fuck off."

He chuckles, saying, "Such foul language, and on my birthday too. I won't be long."

"Too long."

He kisses my cheek, and says, "Yes, I don't want to be very far from you either. Go, hang with your friend."

The shower revives me, as it always does, and I quickly get dressed, before heading to the kitchen. I can hear Ana chatting with Rodriguez. He's facing away, and of course Ana can't see me, so I have a moment to study them before either notices me. She looks relaxed and happy, like in those photos he took. It hurts that someone else can put that carefree smile on her face. She smiles when with me, but is rarely so relaxed. Maybe it just takes time. Or maybe she really would be better off with him. I banish dark thoughts, and pick a lull in the conversation to enter the room, saying, "I'm sorry that your visit didn't go as planned, José. Next time, we'll do it without the drama."

He laughs, saying, "That would be good. Though, at least you didn't punch me for keeping Ana safe this time."

"Thanks, for that. I was too far away to catch her this time."

He stands, and offers his right hand, saying, "And, congratulations, on the baby. I hope they take after their mother, or the poor kid will be run out of town as a monster."

I guess Ana told him. I don't know what it's costing him to seem jovial about such news. But I can guess, and hear the sincerity in my voice, when I shake his hand, and say, "Thank you, José. Did Ana mention the house?"

"Yeah. She says it's practically a mansion. And right on the water? How much did that set you back?"

"I'm not sure Ana would want to know. She struggles with me spending money on her."

His gaze lingers on Ana, and he says, "Let him spoil you, sirenita." I don't know enough Spanish to recognize the word, but it makes her blush. "What else is he going to do with all that money?"

She glares at him, and says, "Don't you have fish to catch?"

He laughs, clearly unafraid, and says, "God willing. Yeah, I'd better go. Thanks again, Christian. This is a real nice place."

"Any time. Once the house is ready, you'll be welcome there too." I'm surprised again, to hear how much I mean it.

Taylor is standing in the foyer with a large backpack. I have to stifle a laugh when Rodriguez accepts it from him, saying, "Thanks, T."

"My pleasure, sir."

Sounds as if even Taylor likes him. I guess they've ended up spending a bit of time together. Ana hugs her friend just long enough to make my skin itch, and I shake his hand before he leaves us. By then, Taylor has disappeared, and I'm effectively alone with Ana. And then she's in my arms. "Okay, baby?"

Her voice somewhat muffled by my chest, she says, "I just keep forgetting what happened, and then remembering how close...please don't ever do anything like that again."

She needs a distraction. I caress her back for a while, in what I hope is a soothing manner, and then attempt, "There was some talk of breakfast?"

When she pulls back, it's obvious that she's wept a little, but quickly wipes away the evidence, and says, "Right. But it's a surprise, so you need to fuck off again, until I call you."

Now very curious what she has planned, I say, "All right. I'll be in my study. I haven't yet charged my phone, and I presume there are a million messages on it by now." I'm about to obey her, when I think to ask, "Oh, you told him we're pregnant?"

"No, apparently you did. After I fainted."

"Oh, right. I kind of panicked, and blurted out my concern for Blip while Grace was tending you. I guess that means Mia and Elliot know."

"I guess. Probably Ethan too. I think he was still there. José said you were frantic."

I'm surprised, when it only bothers me a little that my panic was visible. "He's mistaken. I assure you that I was entirely calm after surviving a helicopter crash, only to eventually make my way home, and have my pregnant fiancée pass out in front of me."

She smiles, and says, "Well, you're still anything but boring, Mr. Grey."

My phone is still charging when Ana appears in the doorway of my study, and announces, "Breakfast is served, m'lord."

"That was quick."

She shrugs, saying, "It's not a complicated recipe." She sounds nervous.

I take her hand, and let her lead us. "You've got me very curious."

She giggles, and says, "I think I like you very curious."

On the dining table are two plates under lids. Ana guides us to our seats, and then gestures to my meal, saying, "Happy Birthday, darling."

I lift the lid, to see, "S'ghetti on toast!" She really is a miracle. "How...?"

She's beaming at me, and explains, "Carrick. When we danced, I asked him the first food you requested, after moving in with them. He said you didn't speak for ages, and wouldn't let anyone wait on you even before that, instead making your own meals when the kitchen was deserted, this being a staple. He says you even cleaned up after yourself?"

Her smile has dimmed by the time she's finished, and I explain, "Yeah, I couldn't...I didn't trust any of it. I thought that, if I was a bother, they wouldn't want to keep me. But, remember, that was a different person than the one beside you now, largely because of you."

Her smile looks a little forced, and she says, "Let's eat."

She seems determined to enjoy the day. The least I can do is cooperate.

It doesn't taste quite as good as I remember, probably because my palate has matured. But I'm genuinely touched that Ana bothered, and soon put my cutlery down on an empty plate, to proclaim, "Best s'ghetti on toast I've had in a very long time."

She giggles, and says, "I'm glad." Then retrieving a gift bag from under her chair, she offers it to me, again saying, "Happy Birthday." It looks like a leather-bound book. Once in my hand, I can see that it's actually a small journal, complete with tiny lock, something like a teenage girl might use. There's a relief portrait of a lion on the cover. Ana explains, "I actually started this before I knew about your birthday. I'd been thinking about your women, and the apparent dichotomy between how you perceive that time in your life, and how at least Wendy feels about it. And I had the epiphany that, for two days a week, you literally fulfilled their desires." She hands me a tiny key, and continues, "It occurred to me that you might appreciate the opportunity to fulfill every sexual fantasy I've ever had, so I started writing them down, anything I ever thought of, or read about, that turned me on. You'll see that we've already crossed a few off the list. If you keep it somewhere handy, I'll add to it, as I think of more. I know you'll always be mindful of our limits, so consider this key my consent, to proceed at your pace."

My cock has come to life, and my hands are trembling. I'm almost afraid to open it, only because it seems too great a gift. I take a deep, trembling breath, and say, "Then, once your meal has settled, you and I are going to be very busy."

She smiles like the sun, and says, "I was hoping you'd say that. There's a quote inside."

The tremors have stopped, so I manage to open it. Her handwriting is neater than I'd imagined. Perhaps because she was sighted for so long. I read aloud, "The hind that would be mated by the lion, must die for love."

It sounds familiar, but I haven't yet placed it, when Ana explains, "From All's Well That Ends Well. Do you know it?"

"A little. This is Helena, of Bertram. So, I'm the lion?"

She smiles, and says, "We're both lions. I've had fine arguments with classmates, and professors, about that passage. Many feel that it denotes weakness, a bending to someone else's will. But I've always maintained that the hind doesn't actually die. Once she gets brave enough to pursue her heart's desire, she finally becomes who she was meant to be. That's why she was attracted to the lion in the first place, somehow sensing a kindred spirit."

The lion picture now takes on new meaning, and I trace the shape with loving fingertips. "I like that." I touch Ana's cheek, in request, and then kiss her willing lips, before saying, "Thank you, baby. This is...you humble me."

She smiles, and says, "A humble Christian Grey? Who would have thought?"

I caress her face, so dear to me, and relish the feeling of power, when she closes her eyes to savor my touch. "You would. You've always known who I am, even when I didn't. I love you, Anastasia."

She gasps at this, and shakes her head slightly, saying, "Don't 'Anastasia' me, when I'm emotional. I haven't finished yet. Taylor has the second gift. It was too big to easily hide."

Sure enough, Taylor is waiting in the living room, and reveals what looks like a wrapped painting or photo. He relinquishes it to Ana, and says "Happy Birthday, sir," for the first time ever, before leaving us.

Ana hands the gift to me, with, "What he said." As I unwrap it, she continues, "Now, I had Gail do this for me yesterday, before...anyway, I hope you like it."

Mounted behind glass is the now flattened Charlie Tango balloon I gave her as a housewarming gift, complete with a tiny name plaque. I don't yet know if my helicopter can be salvaged, so I'm ridiculously moved by this memento. When I'm unable to speak, Ana explains, "You don't have to keep it, if it stirs up bad memories. It's just...wherever that is, feels like home to me, because it reminds me of you."

I blink, and guide her hand to my face, so she'll know how grateful I am, from the solitary tear on my cheek. Her tears start flowing then, so I put Charlie Tango aside, to embrace her. And then she really unlocks her grief, sobbing and clutching at me, as she gasps, "I was so scared...so scared."

"Hey, I know. But I'm okay, I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

She clings to me for a few seconds longer, and then smiles up at me, to vow, "Not today."

Before he's had time to initiate any of the scenarios in my journal, fatigue finally catches up with Christian, and I laugh at the sound of yet another huge yawn, saying, "It seems surreal that you're sleepy, and I'm not. I guess the infusion is already working."

He takes my hand, and I notice we're walking towards our bedroom, as he says, "Still, you had a big night, and we've got the party later. Plus, I wasn't kidding about not wanting to be far from you today. Lie down with me?"

"I'd like that." We're soon under the covers, and I find that he's only removed his jeans and shoes. He must be truly exhausted, to not even contemplate sex right now. "Can I touch your chest?"

"I already consented, remember?"

"I know, just being careful." I'm sure that I'll relax about it at some point, but not yet. I'm drawing comfort from the steady beat of his heart, when I recall a thought I had yesterday. "Can I explore your face?"

"Blind people really do that?"

"Not this blind person. It always seemed too creepy. I'm told that it doesn't always help much, anyway. I just...it only occurred to me last night, that I have no idea what you look like."

"Oh. Then, help yourself. Want me to move?"

Getting up onto my knees beside him, I say, "Just relax."

I've read about this, but never attempted it. I honestly don't care about physical appearance. That was true before I lost my sight. Still, it's soon evident why women of all ages can't resist touching Christian: symmetrical features, smooth skin, a strong jaw and slightly cleft chin, high cheek bones, an imposing brow, and a really nice nose. He hasn't yet shaved today, so his stubble is longer than normal. I like it. I already know the shape of his lips, from that electrifying elevator ride at the Heathman...and constant kissing. But I linger there anyway, and his lips twitch, as he protests, "Hey, that tickles."

That makes me think of something else. "Smile for me. Do all your shades."

"Sorry?"

My hands are spread, feather-light across his face, as I instruct, "Smile like you're reading my journal."

One side of his mouth lifts up. It's that same, cheeky grin he had on his face in the elevator. And he says, "I suspect that imagining your journal will prove incompatible with sleep."

I laugh, and say, "Later. Now, smile like you haven't seen me all day." Oh, I like this smile. "Christian, you have dimples!"

He turns his face away, even as he snares my hands, saying, "I think that's quite enough exploring."

"Darling, are you embarrassed?"

"I've never liked the dimples."

"They're cute."

He growls, and says, "Exactly. So, other than the dimples, what's the verdict?"

I grin, and joke, "Elliot was right, you're hideous."

We're getting dressed for his birthday party, and Christian asks, "What was that José called you?"

Thrilled that he finally sounds a little relaxed about one of my best friends, I reward him with, "It translates as 'little mermaid'. Did I mention that Ray and his father are good friends?"

"No."

"Turns out they served together, and ended up living near each other without realizing it, until my friendship with José Junior revealed that happy accident. They're fishing buddies. And, while I don't join in, I love being at the beach."

"And I'll take you, very soon."

His fiery tone reveals the truth. "You've read some of the journal already?"

"You're surprised?"

"No, I suppose not. Anyway, all the guys were fishing one day, and I found a spot on some rocks that brought the smell of the ocean right to me. It was such a perfect day. Apparently, the way I was sitting reminded José Senior of a statue he'd once seen, of The Little Mermaid. Ever since then, José sometimes calls me that when we're alone."

"You weren't alone."

"Oh, right. Then I guess he's beginning to trust you."

I want to ask, but don't get brave enough, and resume dressing. Christian apparently reads my mind yet again, saying, "Yeah, I think maybe there's a chance he and I can be friends."

It's more than I'd dared hope for, given the many obstacles. "Thank you, Christian."

He chuckles, saying, "You'd better not look at me like that, or we'll end up back in bed."

We hadn't quite made it to the red room, as I'd intended, only because waking up together in bed, in the middle of the day, with snacks and drinks nearby, had meant that most of the afternoon disappeared in a blur of orgasms. It was blissful, and I never wanted it to end. I laugh, and ask, "A good birthday?"

"So far, the best ever." He really means it. And then my traitorous brain reminds me how close he came to never reaching twenty-eight. His arms are around me, and he begs, "Hey, please don't cry. It wrecks me."

Just knowing that it upsets him is enough that I'm able to stop. "I'm okay. Just keep remembering. How long before they know if it was sabotage?"

It seems like every part of him tenses, and he asks, "What?"

Did he think I wouldn't work it out? "Darling, you're obsessed with safety, and bragged to me how Charlie Tango is one of the safest helicopters ever built." And I suddenly remember what that helipad in Portland was like, with one old guy in charge, and a broken elevator. For some reason, Christian hadn't even taken Taylor with him this time. "I presume investigators are already at the scene?"

I know that it's going to be a battle to get any information from him, because his arms are no longer around me. "Don't worry about that, baby. It's under control."

He's here, and he's safe. That's enough for now. "One day, you're going to trust me."

"I do trust you. I just don't want to burden you with...fuck, I'm sorry, that's the same as not trusting you, isn't it? I've never...this wasn't an issue with anyone else I've been with."

Thrilled that he worked it out for himself, I can see him well enough to end up back in his embrace, and say, "It's all right, darling. I know you trust me in other ways. But, please, let me decide how much I can endure, okay?"

"I will try."

I'm unlikely to get a better deal, and stand on tippy toes to offer him my lips. And then giggle, asking, "Are you not going to shave?"

"As per your written request."

My groin tingling at the thought of that particular fantasy, I'm trying to imagine what he'll look like with a beard, as I ask, "You really intend to do everything in the journal?"

"Oh, yes. At least once. And, if you keep squirming against me like that, I'll start right now."

Tempting. But his family and friends nearly lost him too. Everyone has left us alone today, but I can well imagine that at least Grace needs to hug him right about now. So I step out of his arms, again promising, "Later."

We're on our way to Bellevue, and I don't realize that I'm deep in thought, until Christian gently asks, "What are you thinking?"

"Oh, uh, just that Flynn said you never cry. But today was the second time you've cried since I've known you."

Of course, he's holding my hand, and lifts it to his lips for a moment, before saying, "The traumas of my early childhood taught me very well how to cope with pain and grief. But nothing in my life prepared me for this much happiness. You overwhelm me."

And then his arm is around me, as I struggle with my too much happiness, eventually saying, "I'm okay."

He kisses my temple, and asks, "What else did Flynn say?"

I smile, and say, "I'm surprised it took you this long."

He shrugs, and says, "Working on the trust thing. I don't need to know."

Maybe him asking is a sign that he's ready. "I asked him about your mother."

He tenses, and says, "Oh?"

Not encouraging. "I was confused, because you called her a crack addict, but also said that she used a needle. I was wondering why."

"People can inject crack, baby. They just need to dissolve it first."

"Yes, but why did she inject, when smoking is quicker and easier?"

"Uh, I dunno...a better high maybe."

"Maybe."

"Okay, what's your theory, Dr. Steele?"

"I think she was trying to protect you, from the drugs."

"Ana, she literally sometimes drugged me, and I was still nursing at four, probably because there was never any fucking food in that place. I had enough of that shit in my system to cause headaches and seizures from withdrawal."

Banishing that image, before it consumes me, I persist, "She drugged you with a sedative, and that was also to protect you. And she might not have known that feeding you was so dangerous." When the ensuing silence stretches on, I remind him, "I only brought it up because you asked."

He's upset enough to take his arm from my shoulders, but still clasps my hand, and says, "Yeah, enough for now."

He seems okay, so I rest my head on his shoulder, saying, "Thank you, for discussing it." When he makes no reply, merely offering a reassuring pressure on our joined hands, I attempt, "And that actually explains a lot."

He warily asks, "What does?"

I smile, and say, "If you were never properly weaned..."

He laughs, and says, "Oh, I'm pretty sure I'd love your breasts anyway. Though I am very much looking forward to reacquainting myself with breast milk."

My breasts literally tingle at the thought, and I accuse, "You really are a kinky bastard."

He kisses me, and vows, "Your kinky bastard."

Christian is still holding my hand when Taylor pulls up outside the Bellevue home, so I feel his sudden unease. Guessing the reason, I ask, "Ready for all the hugs?"

"I'm really not."

"You know they'll back off, if you ask them, right? Just because you can now tolerate that level of contact, doesn't mean you always have to consent."

"I know. I want to do it. And there wasn't actually any pain when they hugged me last night, but remembered pain is a trigger too."

"It's getting easier though?"

He takes hold of my wrist, and I guess why just before my hand slips inside the top of his shirt. I press my palm against his skin, as he promises, "Every day that I'm with you."

It's as if my touch is now a healing balm, when only weeks ago, it felt like a kind of exquisite torture for him. I smile, and vow, "Guess I'll hang around for a while then."

He kisses me, and commands, "You'd better."

As we get out of the car, I tease, "We'll see, Grey. We'll see."

We're almost to the door when it opens, and Carrick says, "Happy Birthday, son."

Christian manages the greeting without letting go of my hand. Perhaps it helps. I hope so. It sounds like a full house. Grace is the next person to greet us, and hits Christian with a hug big enough that I feel it through our joined hands. I guess she's waited a long time to be able to so express her love for him. At some point the many well-wishers mean that he's forced to let go of my hand.

I finally meet the "Ros" whose name I know from Christian so often answering the phone with that word. She apparently has a girlfriend, and they're both lovely. Ros gushes over the changes in Christian, since he met me, and I have to ask, "But he's still him?"

She's quiet for a moment, and then asks, "You're worried?"

My face has betrayed me again. "I just...he's turned his life upside down for me. But I loved him before that."

She bothers to pat my hand, saying, "Then rest assured, he's still Christian, just more affable, and much more relaxed."

I'm breathing a sigh of relief when Gwen says, "It must have been hell for you last night. I'd been out all evening, so barely had time to get worried before Ros got home, filthy and barefoot."

It's not her fault, so I shake my head, to erase the images, and say, "Trying not to think about it."

"Oh, of course. I'm sorry. Can I get you a drink?"

I'm not actually thirsty, but guess that she needs this more than I do. "Thanks. Mineral water, please."

A few seconds later, Ros leans close, to whisper, "Congratulations, Ana."

At first confused, I realize she must be talking about Little Blip. "Uh, thank you."

Still speaking quietly, she explains, "He only told me yesterday. Don't worry. I won't even tell Gwen, without your consent. He just wanted me to understand why he's stepping down, as CEO."

Utterly confused, I can only shake my head, and ask, "He is?"

After a few seconds, she laughs a little, and says, "Oh, dear. Winnie and I are putting our foot in it tonight. I'm sure he meant to tell you. It was a hell of a day, and night. I'm glad you're all okay."

She's delightful, so I push aside any concerns about Christian keeping secrets, and say, "Me too. And I'm glad you're okay. Thank you, for being someone he can trust."

"Likewise. It's wonderful to see him so happy. He deserves it."

As if he can tell that we're talking about him, Christian then says, "There you are, baby. Mind if I borrow my fiancée for a minute, Ros?"

"I'm pretty sure you know it's not up to me, Christian."

He chuckles, and says, "True."

He takes my hand, and walks far enough away that the many voices sound a little muted, before he quietly reveals, "Thought you might appreciate a heads-up; Elena just arrived."

"Oh. Okay."

"Okay?"

"Well, yeah. It's not my house. If she behaves herself, so will I. What did you think I was going to do?"

"Uh, not sure, exactly. You're amazing."

"I'm glad you think so." I move into his arms, and plead, "You know, I haven't yet had a proper tour of your bedroom."

"Wouldn't that be a little rude?"

"It's your birthday."

"Excellent point, as ever, Ms. Steele."