Hello Lovelies,

Hoping you're all well and stay safe. Sending love to anyone who needs a bit of comfort in these difficult times.

I hope you like this chapter. More coming soon!

Much Love,

Chelsea x


Tammi – Thank you! I'm really glad you liked the chapter. I hope you enjoy this one too! Much Love x

DoloresDeeHowe – Thank you! I'm glad they made the playroom their own too. It was time they changed it, out with the old as Ana said! I hope you like this chapter. Much Love x

Jeangb – Thank you! Much Love x

SuzB – Thank you! The title definitely applies to them both, but will also hold greater meaning later in the story… Much Love x

Reds77 – Thank you! I'm really glad you liked it. Those scenes aren't always easy to write, but they sure are fun! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Much Love x

Paula White – Thank you! I hope you enjoy this one. Much Love x


Over the next week my good mood only continued to improve.

For the first time in a while, I could truly say every day was spent with a smile on my face. My neck muscles had never felt so relaxed or free of tension. I had almost forgotten they didn't need to be so stiff and wrought all the time!

The troubles at SIP were shifting further and further into the back of my mind, my attention focusing on my current workload and nothing else. I can't control other people's behaviour, but I can dictate how I respond to it. And right now, I choose to give all of those who doubt me the finger. Screw them.

This is something I should have done a long time ago. I realise that now. I was slow on the uptake but I got there in the end, that's all that matters.

Better late than never, huh?

Things were starting to improve on the mom front too. This surprised me the most. She had replied to my initial messages, but I had expected her to fall back into radio silence soon after. Yet, she continued to respond to me. She wasn't ignoring me anymore.

I was talking to her more now than I had in years. We had been texting back and forth, mostly talking about menial, day-to-day things. It was all very civil and polite, but still lacked the kind of tone you would want from mommy dearest. It lacked any real emotion.

But it was a positive step forward. Small steps can lead to bigger leaps later down the line. The lines of communication were finally open. Isn't that what I wanted? Just to get her talking?

I knew we had a lot to discuss, but I was hopeful this meant easier times were on the horizon for us. That at least we would be able to sit down and talk to each other, get everything out in the open.

And with us having talked more, not a single insult in sight, I was opening up to the idea of visiting her in Georgia.

I shared my thoughts with Christian while I was making our dinner.

"That's what you want? To go see her?" he checked, eyeing me from his seat at the breakfast bar. I nodded as I munched on some of the carrot sticks I'd grabbed from the refrigerator, feeling peckish. "Okay. I'm assuming you want to get it over and done with, sooner rather than later?"

"Yes," I agreed. "I think I should strike while the iron's still hot. My mom can be fickle. She could easily do a 180 and change her mind."

"You sure she doesn't have bipolar or something?" he asked. There was no sharpness in his voice, only genuine concern.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "On some level I just think she's incredibly selfish. She only does what she wants to do. Right now, she wants to talk and so do I."

"When do you want to fly out there?"

"I was thinking next weekend," I offered. "I won't need to take any time off work that way. I'm running out of vacation days! I'm trying to save them for the honeymoon."

"I'll sort everything out," Christian promised. "Don't worry. I'll figure it out."

He watched me for a moment, seeming to study my face for some unknown reason. Eventually, his lips parted, his easy smile dropping.

"I have a confession to make," he muttered under his breath, his dark eyes softening.

I pushed my hands into the countertop, readying myself.

"What?"

He stilled for a second and then sighed.

"I've been doing some digging into your mother," he said. He gulped hard and quickly held up his hands in surrender. "I wanted to be sure you weren't leapfrogging into a situation neither of us want to be in again."

He didn't need to elaborate. I knew exactly what he meant.

"I needed to know everything was legit," he added.

"What do you mean?"

"I ran a check on the number you have for her," he explained. "To make sure it's actually hers."

"I could have told you –"

"I needed to settle my own doubts, that's all."

"And? Were you?"

"I shouldn't have worried," he admitted on a deep exhale. "It's registered to her and can be traced to her house in Savannah."

My mother has had the same cell phone for years. I didn't doubt it was her phone for a second.

But I understand his worries. They are more than justified, after everything we have been through.

"When you mentioned her recently and I figured there was a chance you'd contact her, I've had a team follow her," he continued, lowering his voice to a whisper. He shifted on his seat, as if he was feeling uncomfortable having to divulge this information. "I wanted up-to-date images of her. See what she's getting up to, that sort of thing. I wanted to know who we're up against here."

"Is there anything I should be concerned about?"

He shook his head.

"She seems pretty damn normal to me," he shrugged. "She goes to a Pilates class every Tuesday morning, and does her grocery shopping on Thursday afternoons. Her and Bob dine out at a seafood restaurant at least twice a week."

He pulled out his phone and rose from his seat, coming over to me. He showed me his screen, a covert picture of my mother staring back at me.

A breath caught in my throat.

She hasn't changed at all.

Her dark hair, the same shade as my own, is still long, scaling halfway down her spine. Whereas mine has a natural wave, hers is poker straight. She's shockingly pale despite the Georgian sun, another trait I inherited from her. In the picture she's wearing an ankle length yellow dress, a white cardigan strewn over her shoulders, huge sunglasses on top of her head.

From this distance, a good ten feet between her and the photographer, she looks much younger than her years. We could be sisters, not mother and daughter.

"I couldn't believe how much you look like her," Christian said as he swiped through a series of pictures - her at the grocery store picking out vegetables, selecting a bottle of wine from the shelves, smiling at a cashier. "You're practically her twin."

I nodded, unsure of what to say to that.

When I was a kid, everyone used to comment about how much I was like her. I had seen photographs of my biological father and I knew I looked nothing like him. He was blonde with dark green eyes. I was Carla's mini-me, that's for sure.

I could handle people saying I looked like her, but I used to pray they wouldn't say the same about the way I behaved. Even at a young age, I knew the way my mother acted wasn't normal. Wasn't acceptable. She was a user and had no regard for other people's feelings.

I dreaded turning into her.

I still do…

"What else did you find out about her?" I wondered.

"Not much," he shrugged again. "She leads a boring life from the looks of it. Bob evidently dotes on her. We have pictures of him bringing home gifts almost every day. Huge bouquets of flowers, chocolates, literally every day."

I rolled my eyes.

"Not even I'm that bad!" he snorted.

"It sounds about right though," I hummed. "My mother is an attention seeker. She loves being the centre of attention and she loves being spoilt. Ray doted on her too."

"It's a good job you take after Ray then, huh?" he quipped, smirking at me. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side. "Now I know she doesn't pose a physical threat and that we're not dealing with a potential safety risk, I'm comfortable with the idea of us heading out there to see her."

He pecked a kiss to my temple.

I didn't speak.

He tightened his hold on me.

"Ana?"

"Hm?"

"You're not mad at me for checking out your mother?"

"I bloody hope you weren't checking out my mother!" I snorted, arching my neck to look up at him. "Otherwise we'll be having talks, mister."

"You know what I mean," he smiled. He brushed his thumb across my cheek. "It's not a problem, is it?"

"No," I shook my head. "You've always put my safety first, why would that be any different where my mother is concerned? My mother, who I haven't seen or spoken to for over a year? Of course you'd have to check out the situation first, it would be ridiculous if you didn't."

His shoulders sagged with relief.

He kissed me firmly on the lips and then broke away, heading back over to his stool.

"Maybe if everything goes well, you and Carla could go dress shopping together?" he suggested, sitting down. I frowned at him. "That's something moms and daughters usually do, isn't it? Shop for the wedding dress?"

"I wouldn't know," I shrugged. "But that seems a bit much. I'm not sure we'll be on the girly shopping trips stage any time soon."

Or ever…

He hummed and began tapping his fingertips on the marbled counter.

"Anyway," I sighed. "I've already been shopping for a dress."

His eyes opened widen, surprise fleeting through his gaze.

"You have? When?"

"Tuesday," I said. "I was having lunch with Kate and we decided to go to a small boutique near SIP. It was only a quick look around, just so I could get some ideas about what I might like."

"And did you see something you liked?"

I nodded and gave him a wry smile.

I wasn't going to reveal any more details about what I had found, but I had gained a general sense of what I would want my dress to look like from those brief moments in the store.

I had seen a stunning empire-waisted gown displayed in the window, the lace overlay and pearl accents catching my eye as soon as I saw it. The bodice and skirt were perfect but I didn't like the capped sleeves or the high neckline. I knew I wanted long sleeves – we are getting married in winter, after all – and something that didn't cut me off at the throat. I don't exactly have an impressive cleavage but what little I have I want to show off.

Tastefully, of course.

Mia had mentioned the idea of having a dress specially made. A one-of-a-kind. Maybe she could help organise a meeting with a designer? I'm sure her address book is full of them…

"Did you try on a dress?" Christian asked, fishing for information.

"I didn't," I shook my head. "But I'll probably get to try something on soon… and, before you even ask, yes, the dress will have lace on it! I already promised you that."

He gave me a cheeky grin and winked.

"I think we should sit down and talk about the colour scheme tonight," I offered. "See if we can come to a decision? It would be nice to tick that off the list."

"Sure," he nodded. He stared at me, his eyes twinkling. "I know you have already created mood boards…"

I felt my cheeks blush.

On my desk in the library, I have a mountain of clippings Kate has given me, extracts from her magazines that match the kind of simplicity and elegance we are aiming for. I couldn't help piecing pictures together, trying to get an idea of what our big day will look like.

"Are you starting to get excited?" he asked.

"Yes," I admitted, a grin spreading across my mouth. Butterflies whirled in my tummy every time I think about walking down the aisle and saying 'I do'. "I just really want everything to be perfect."

"I'll make sure it's perfect," he said forcefully. "I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you get the wedding you want."

"And your wants don't come into it? It's your day too."

"As long as you're happy, that's all I care about," he shook his head. He winked again. "Happy wife, happy life."

I threw a carrot stick at him, his laugh rousing a giggle from me. He caught the stick and chomped on it loudly.

"Have you decided who your groomsmen will be?" I asked.

He nodded, swallowing hard. "I've asked Elliot to be my best man," he revealed.

"That will please Kate," I smirked. "She's my maid of honour."

"Flynn has agreed to be an usher," he added. "Are you still having Mia as a bridesmaid?"

"Yes," I nodded. "I did ask Rhian if she would be part of my bridal party too, but she declined. She doesn't think she'll be ready for playing dress-up and being on show."

"That's fair," he hummed. "She will have a newborn to look after. Plus, she'll have all the other kids to keep in check. Shit, I don't envy her!"

"Harriet won't be a problem," I chuckled. "She's so excited to be a flower girl with Sophie."

He grinned at the mention of Harriet. The other special girl in his life.

"She'll make a beautiful flower girl," he declared. "I'm really glad you decided to include her."

"I couldn't not," I snorted. "She'd have worn me down until I said yes anyway. She's a handful, that girl."

I shifted my attention back to dinner while Christian dipped into his thoughts, quietening as he stared into space. The sight of him so carefree and relaxed was a wonderful sight.

"You really love her, don't you?"

"I do," he nodded, proudly. "She's a great kid. The boys are too. I love all of them."

"Who would've thought the mighty Christian Grey would be so happy around kids!" I laughed.

"I know," he shook his head. "It confuses the fuck out of me, but I really like being around them now. I never allowed myself to get close to them before."

"You didn't allow yourself to get close to anyone," I corrected him.

He agreed on a soft hum. "I'm not as scared anymore," he muttered. "I don't think everyone is going to abandon me as soon as I let them in."

"Anyone who abandons you is a fucking lunatic," I said. "Christian, you're incredible."

He dropped his eyes, his cheeks starting to turn pink.

Smiling, I returned to the stove and stirred the sauce I had made. After a few minutes, I was ready to plate up. I was about to ask him to grab some plates from the cabinet when his phone bleeped near the microwave, where it was plugged in and charging.

He went over and snatched it up, checking whatever message was demanding attention.

A deep frown creased his forehead.

"Who is it?"

"Oh my god."

My gut lurched.

The tone of his voice unsettled me, shivers breaking out over my skin.

"Christian, who is it?"

"Flynn," he whispered.

"What's happened?"

Christian came over to me and passed over his phone.

Hi all, I'm finally getting round to sharing our news. Rhian gave birth yesterday morning to a beautiful boy. Both mum and baby are doing great, despite little man's early arrival. We will keep you updated. So far everything is going well.

My eyes opened as wide as they could, my jaw dropping.

"Shit," I shook my head. I peered up at him. "I…"

"I can't believe it," he sighed. "I thought she still had another month to go?"

"She did," I confirmed. "I think she had another five weeks left. He's really early."

Christian read back over the message.

"At least they're both safe and well," he said. "Fuck's sake… There's another Flynn in the world."

I broke into a light giggle, my stomach jerking as the nervous laugh twisted through me.

I was crossing everything for Rhian and the baby, hoping they stay fit and well.

"They're trying to take over the world, aren't they?" he quipped, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Rhian is done on the baby front now. She's adamant this is their last kid. She mentioned something about John getting the snip."

Christian winced at hearing that, shuddering from top to toe.

"Two six-year-olds, a four-year-old and now a newborn," he breathed. "Holy fucking shit."

"Harriet got her wish after all," I smiled. "She was desperate for a baby brother."

Christian put down his phone and clapped his hands together.

"Let's raise a toast," he announced, rushing over to the wine ridge and pulling out a bottle of champagne. He poured two glasses and handed one to me, chinking his glass to mine. "This is definitely worth celebrating… To baby boy Flynn."

"May he live a long and happy life," I nodded. "He's one lucky boy, having John and Rhian as parents."

"The luckiest," Christian grinned.