Chapter 41: Figuring Out What Matters (Anastasia's POV)

Five days, seven hours, and thirty-five minutes, give or take. That was Christian's estimate of how long I was in the hospital before I was finally discharged.

Five days, two hours, and forty-five minutes, give or take. That's how long it had been, by my own calculations, since I'd been home from the hospital. "Home" to Grey Manor, that is. I agreed with Christian that going back to Escala, to any of our penthouses there, was a bad idea. Mine was where Hyde had first attacked me, and where he'd shot Luke and killed Nurse Hillary. Christian's was where most of my nightmare had occurred, and neither of us was ready to step foot back there again. The third penthouse, where Christian's staff had lived, didn't make sense for us either. So, we decided to put all three of them on the market. We would never return to Escala.

But Grey Manor wasn't home either, and I was going out of my mind. Something had to change. The past ten days, ten hours, and twenty minutes, or whatever it was, had been the most difficult of my life, and I wasn't sure how I was going to keep it together for another day unless I made a drastic change.

There had been bright spots throughout, which made the horrific events a little more bearable. Perhaps the brightest of all was currently curled up in my lap, watching cartoons. I couldn't lift or carry her, but I could hold her. Christina and I had been doing some serious bonding over the past few days, and I was happy to see that she was adapting well to life at Grey Manor. She had asked for Leila a few times, and there hadn't been an easy way to tell her that Mommy had to go away, but she hadn't been as distraught as I had feared she would be. I knew it would take time for her to begin to recognize me as her new mommy, and I didn't necessarily want to rush it. I didn't want her to forget Leila, but I knew she would if Christian and I didn't work at preserving Leila's memory. For that reason, I asked Kate to arrange getting a still shot of Leila from the day of the interview. I wanted to enlarge it and hang it in Christina's room, once we finally got settled into a home. We would always refer to Leila as Christina's first mommy, and as our angel. I would never forget the fact that Leila had saved my life, and I was forever in her debt. I would do my very best to keep my promise to her and parent Christina to the best of my ability.

We had held a memorial service for Leila two days ago and laid her to rest in the same cemetery where my parents and grandparents were buried. I had no idea how Christian managed to keep the paparazzi away, other than the fact that we'd done it at 7:00 in the morning and kept it very small. Leila's sister Serena had been invited, but she hadn't shown up. It was mostly just the Grey family, which was just fine with us. Christina, of course, didn't understand anything that was happening, and she wouldn't remember it anyway. But we would make sure she never forgot Leila, our Lavender angel, who gave her life and saved mine.

Another bright spot in my seemingly unending darkness was my dad, who was still staying at Grey Manor. I'd been worried that he was going to remain hostile to Christian, believing all kinds of evil shit about him, but that wasn't the case. He had been sincere when he apologized. He'd already had lunch twice with Christian since I'd been home from the hospital, and Christian said it had gone well both times. He said Dad was even considering retiring and moving to Seattle to be closer to us. And Dad had taken to Christina just as he had taken to me, as if we were both his biological offspring. Thank God that Dad was one less person that I had to worry about.

Of course, I also had Christian's family and our friends surrounding me. Grace and Carrick treated me as if I were already their daughter-in-law, and Mia quickly became besties with both me and Kate. Everyone did due diligence to make sure that I was completely safe and as comfortable as possible. Someone was always there to lift Christina from my lap, and to get me anything I asked for. Really, they were all incredibly wonderful, which is why I felt guilty as the days passed that I began to resent their continual presence. I needed some time to myself, but everyone was being so helpful that I didn't know how to ask for it.

Kate was another one of my wonderful bright spots. She never failed to take my side on any and every issue. When the media became an additional nightmare for me, Kate used her own connections to steer the story in a direction more favorable to me. Thanks to Kate, I went from being a rape victim to a racist bitch to an outraged survivor. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I want to focus on all the bright spots in my life before I focus on the horrors, and it's hard to think about how Kate has come through for me without thinking of the paparazzi terrorists. But I'll get back to those assholes. First, the positive.

Another bright spot had been visiting Luke in the hospital. I was finally able on the third morning of waking up in the hospital to talk Christian into wheeling me down to Luke's room. Christian had done his best to prepare me, and I knew from his warnings that there was a very strong likelihood that Luke wouldn't recognize me. I just needed to make sure that his medical needs were being taken care of. I knew Luke had good insurance; I'd made sure of it. But if there were any treatments or medications that weren't covered by insurance, I wanted to be sure that the hospital staff taking care of Luke knew not to hold anything back, and to bill me for anything insurance didn't cover. Besides, I needed to see Luke for myself, just to see that he had survived. I couldn't get the memory of seeing him lying on the floor of my penthouse, with a pool of blood under his head, out of my mind.

When we entered his room, Luke perked up. I wasn't sure if I should introduce myself to him or wait and see if he knew me. He answered the question for me.

"I know you," he said. He sounded slightly unsure, but I saw the recognition in his eyes.

I smiled at him. "Yes, you do," I told him. "I'm Ana."

"You're Ana," he repeated. He seemed a little excited when he added, "You're the first person I've seen that I've been able to remember. I know your face. I finally remembered my own name. Luke Sawyer. But I couldn't remember anything beyond that at first. Over the past day or two, pieces of my life have been coming back... growing up in Missouri, enlisting in the Marines, special ops... but nothing recent. I know we're in Seattle, but I have no idea how I got here. But you... I know you. I remember driving in a car with you. And waiting in an office where you were working. You have both a desktop and a laptop computer, and you work on both of them at the same time."

I was so happy and relieved to hear Luke's words. "Yes, that's pretty much our daily routine," I told him. "And you're right. I do a lot of multi-tasking."

"Are we... together?" Luke asked hesitantly, which made Christian perk up, his body language immediately becoming more possessive.

I chuckled, which was still painful, but not as much as it had been the previous day. I answered Luke, "No, not like that. We're friends. You work for me." Then I motioned to Christian and told Luke, "You probably don't remember Christian. He's my fiancee."

"Christian," Luke repeated. "Were you here a couple of days ago?"

"I was," Christian affirmed. "But you didn't recognize me."

"Yeah, I still don't remember. You look familiar, but I'm not sure if it's because I saw you a couple of days ago or if I'm thinking of something else. The doctors said I shouldn't push myself too hard to remember, and that things will come back slowly. A lot of it already has. Some of it might never come back."

"I'm kind of well known, so you might have seen my face in the news," Christian said. "But you've been seeing a lot of me lately, since Anastasia and I have been together."

Luke turned back to me and said, "I'll probably be embarrassed when I get my memory back that I asked you that."

"What, if we're together?" I asked. "Don't be embarrassed about that. We're together a lot. I can see how you'd wonder, considering your memory is just coming back."

"Do I have a girlfriend?" Luke asked tentatively.

"Not that I'm aware of," I answered. "But I'm not really sure what you do during your time off."

Luke thought about that for a moment. "I probably don't," he said. "I probably haven't gotten over my ex yet. I was engaged. I remember that. She cheated on me. I remember that too."

"Damn! Sorry to hear that," I told him. "You've never mentioned it before."

"I guess I wouldn't have," he answered. "I also have a sister back in Joplin. Emily. She was Carrie's best friend. Took her side when we broke up. So I lost my sister too."

"Does she know you're in the hospital?" I asked.

"Not likely," Luke answered. "I didn't list her as next of kin, and our parents are dead. She has no way of knowing."

"Would you like us to contact her?" Christian asked.

"Could you do that?" Luke asked. When Christian nodded, Luke said, "Yeah, I miss her. We were only thirteen months apart, so we were more like twins growing up. And she didn't know about all the shit that happened with Carrie. She didn't believe me when I tried to tell her. Probably thought it was all my fault. I didn't stay. I think I reenlisted then. It's foggy. I know I left, but it happened before I moved here. I think it was 2010. My wedding date was supposed to have been June 12, 2010. But I think all the shit hit the fan a couple of months before that. I know I wasn't anywhere near Missouri on June 12 of that year."

"Emily Sawyer?" Christian asked. He had his phone out, typing as he spoke. "From Joplin, Missouri?"

"Sawyer's her maiden name. She got married a year before I left for good. Husband's name is Jay Wallace. She was using a hyphenated name. I'm not sure if they're still married. He was an asshole, so hopefully not."

"So... Emily Sawyer or Sawyer-Wallace. From Joplin," Christian clarified.

"Her asshole husband was from Neosho," Luke answered. "Tiny little town not far from Joplin. They might have moved there."

"OK, I'm on it," Christian responded.

Luke turned back to me and asked, "Can you help fill in some missing pieces... mainly, how did I end up here?"

"In Seattle or in the hospital?" I clarified.

"Well, both," he responded. "I was mainly asking about the hospital. How'd I end up with a bullet in my head? But I wouldn't mind knowing how I got to Seattle, if you know that too."

I nodded, which still made my head hurt a little. "You're my CPO. Close Protective Officer."

"Ah, I'm private security now," he said with realization.

I explained, "Yeah, and I used a headhunting service to find you. You came highly qualified, with very strong recommendations. The best of the best, which is exactly what I needed. I had just had some articles published about me, which pushed me into the spotlight, and the paparazzi was becoming a nuisance."

"Anastasia Steele," Luke said as he remembered more. "Ismintis International. I remember."

"Very good," I said happily.

"You're a badass," he told me.

I chucked again, ignoring the slight pain it caused me. "Not so badass right now."

"You're injured, too," he pointed out. "So, how did I end up with a bullet in my head, and you end up in that wheelchair?" he asked.

"The wheelchair is because my doctor, as well as my fiancee here, both insist on it. I can walk, just not very far yet." I paused, unsure of how much I should tell him. "I... was attacked. We both were. You were in my penthouse, and I was next door at Christian's. We put in a door to connect them. When I came through the door from Christian's penthouse to mine, I found you. Our attacker had surprised you from behind. I doubt you ever even saw him. I thought he'd killed you. Then he almost killed me. But we both survived."

Luke was silent for a minute, processing my words. Finally, he said, "My doctors say it's a miracle I'm not paralyzed. They think I'm probably going to make a full recovery, except I might have some gaps in memory. I'm not really sure why I'm still alive, but I'm sure there's a reason."

Now I was the one who needed to process. Why was I still alive? Why had Leila been able to get out of her bed, after days of sleeping, when we believed that she was going to die in her sleep from her cancer at any moment? Why and how had Leila had the where-with-all after being so sick to call 911, to grab Luke's gun, and to find me next door in Christian's penthouse? How had she had the strength to even shoot the gun? Luke's words struck a chord with me. I knew then that there was a reason why I was still alive, and it would be my life's mission to figure it out.

It took Christian's people less than 24 hours to locate Emily Sawyer, with no hyphen and apparently no husband. I got to meet her shortly before I was discharged from the hospital. She hadn't wasted any time getting to Seattle and to Luke's bedside as soon as she got off the phone with Christian. Apparently, she had already been searching for Luke but hadn't been able to find him.

Luke's memory was even more recovered in the two days since I'd seen him. He'd proved it when, shortly after Christian and I had arrived in his room, he asked me about the night of the munch, when I'd first met Christian. "I have this vague memory of picking you up in the middle of the night, when it was raining. You weren't wearing a coat or any shoes, just a cocktail dress. Did that really happen?"

Christian glared at me, and I felt my face heating. Yeah, that really happened, and my Dom didn't let me forget it. The thought made me sad for a moment, since I didn't know where we stood anymore, but I pushed the thought aside so I could respond to Sawyer. "That was the night I met Christian. He made me feel so confused that I forgot my shoes and coat."

Sawyer smiled teasingly, the way a brother smiles at a sister. "I guess you aren't confused anymore if you're going to marry him."

I smiled back, not at Sawyer but at Christian. "No, not confused anymore," I agreed. But it wasn't true. I was still very confused, and I knew from the look in Christian's eyes that he knew it. But it wasn't a conversation to have at the moment.

Emily, Luke's sister, had been taking a shower in the hospital room's ensuite when we arrived, but she came out at that moment, and we introduced ourselves. She was so thankful for his contacting her that she almost hugged Christian, until he backed away from her. He quickly explained his touch issues, which she seemed to understand. I liked her almost immediately. It turned out that she had a nursing degree, and even though her specialization was pediatric nursing, she was determined to stay with Luke for the foreseeable future and help him recover.

During our visit, they told us the story of Luke's failed engagement, and Emily's failed marriage, which, in fact, was one and the same story. Luke had actually caught his ex-fiancee in bed with Jay, Emily's husband at the time. Luke had told Emily, but she not only hadn't believed him but also accused him of being jealous, a reaction which she said that she forever regretted. She and Luke had argued, and the result was that Luke had left town, never to return. When she tried to find him later, she couldn't. It wasn't until Christian contacted her that she was able to get back in touch with Luke.

Apparently, Carrie and Jay, the cheaters, had been a couple when they'd all been in high school, but they'd supposedly broken up around the same time that Luke and Emily's parents had died in a plane crash, which was during Luke's senior year and Emily's junior year of high school. Shortly after that, Jay had pursued a relationship with Emily. At first, Emily had put him off because he was her supposed best friend's ex-boyfriend. But Carrie herself had encouraged the relationship. They were supposedly still friends and had no hard feelings. A couple of years later, after they'd all finished high school and had started attending the local community college, Emily and Jay had gotten married. Luke had enlisted in the Marines right out of high school, but he returned for the wedding, and Carrie took advantage of that opportunity to get his attention. For over a year, they'd had a long-distance relationship as Luke returned to service. They'd even gotten engaged while Luke was still in service. But when he was able to be honorably discharged, he returned to Joplin, only to find his bride-to-be in bed with his brother-in-law. Shit had hit the fan, and Luke had hit the road.

Emily was ashamed that she had refused to believe Luke, and that she had argued with him. She was also humiliated that her ex-husband and ex-best friend had been able to fool her for so long. Apparently, they'd never broken up. Instead, they'd concocted a plan to get money that they thought Luke and Emily had inherited after their parents died. The ironic thing was, there was no money, or not much anyway. The Sawyers had not been a wealthy family. They'd had a life insurance policy that provided for Luke and Emily, but they didn't leave them the millions that Jay and Carrie for some reason believed they had.

It had only taken a few weeks for Emily to find out the truth, but by then, Luke was long gone, and she had no way of contacting him since he'd gotten rid of his old phone number and deleted his old email accounts. He was done with Joplin, and everything in it. Emily had said some hurtful things to him during their argument, and he didn't think he'd ever be able to forgive her. He'd been wrong, thankfully. He said that forgiving her was easy, with all that had happened. He had his sister back, so he was happy.

When I left Luke and Emily in his hospital room, I felt a bit uplifted. After all the horrible things that had happened, something good had come out of it. Luke had his sister back, and he was going to be OK. I knew it would still be a few months before he would be able to return to work, but he was going to be OK.

Other bright spots were my therapist, Dr. Geeta Patel, and my nurse, Veronica, who both visited me daily. Christian had tried to convince me to have a full-time nurse, but I fought him and won. After all, it was the nurse who had almost certainly been the one to assist Hyde. Nurse Hillary had been the one to let him in... before he killed her. For good reason, I didn't trust a full-time nurse, and I didn't think I needed one. Christian did a very extensive background check on Nurse Veronica, a Ghanian immigrant who was very sweet and very professional. I liked her more every day that passed, but I didn't regret not having her around me all the time. My body was healing, slowly but surely. I still had to be very careful about what I ate, and I still didn't have much of an appetite, but I was able to eat solid food. I did need help bathing, changing my bandages, and making sure all of my wounds were healing. I enjoyed Veronica's motherly attention, I admit. My mom had never been very motherly, but I missed her, especially now. Veronica made everything easier, and I appreciated her.

I had been meeting daily with Geeta, a psychiatrist who was a leading specialist in sexual trauma, since my third day in the hospital. Christian had suggested that I meet with his own psychiatrist, John Flynn, but I knew this would be a bad idea. We each needed our own therapists. So far, we had met with Geeta one time together, and she suggested weekly joint meetings going forward. These meetings were not easy, but I knew they were crucial because I wanted to heal in every way. Geeta didn't have to tell me that it would take time to work through everything; I already knew it. Geeta didn't try to pacify me; she was a straight shooter, which I liked. She made an immediate good first impression on me, and I felt that I had been making progress in our sessions.

Of all my bright spots, excluding only Christina perhaps, Christian was the brightest by far. I fell more deeply in love with him everyday. He was perfect. Each night, he held me tenderly as we slept in his childhood room, and throughout each day, he kept me informed about everything that was happening at Ismintis International, making sure I had the final say in every important decision. As expected, some of my employees had been suspicious, but I think I was able to convince them that Christian was trustworthy with just a few phone calls. Of course, time would tell how much they truly trusted him. Christian himself was keeping everything on the up and up, being as transparent as possible with all my staff, so they could hopefully see that he didn't have any ulterior motives. I think he proved himself to most of them when, on my second day home from the hospital, he was able to close a deal for less than half what I'd been expecting to pay. I wasn't sure how he'd done it, but I wouldn't put it past him to have been calling in favors just to please me.

With all of these bright spots, especially Christian, it was extremely difficult for me to do what I needed to do. Only Geeta knew what I was considering, and she thought it would be good for me. I felt guilty though, because I knew that Christian needed me as much as I needed him. However, when even more shit hit the fan on my fifth day home from the hospital, I knew things had to change, and I knew what I needed to do.

Of all the horror that I'd already seen, I'm not sure what was worse, Hyde's attack, or the paparazzi's. Somehow, they'd gotten word that I was going to be released from the hospital, and they created several safety hazards trying to get to me before I'd even left the hospital. There was no doubt that some of them had seen my attack, as their hackles made evident. I was shocked that any any self-respecting member of the press could go to such ends to harass a victim of rape, which they all knew I was. They all knew that my rape had been live streamed, whether they had seen it or not.

Christian had warned me, as had my own PR team from Ismintis, to ignore them as we made a mad dash for Christian's SUV. However, when one asshole reporter called out to me, asking me if I enjoyed the attack, I came unglued. Holy fucking shit! How dare he?! I stopped in my tracks, with my jaw to the ground for I'm not sure how long, but I'm sure it looked like an hour in the news feeds. Then I addressed the slimeball reporter, which was apparently a big mistake.

"I'm sorry... did you just ask me if I enjoyed being almost beaten and stabbed to death? Or did you think that I would enjoy being raped? Is that what you were referring to?" I got in his face as I continued, and although I didn't realize it until later, my voice sounded more hysterical as I continued speaking. "Did you see it, you fucking moron? Were you entertained by the live stream of the most horrific nightmare I've ever experienced? Did you get off on the worse thing that I've ever even imagined? What... you think because I admitted that I like kink with my fiancee that I would like to be raped and terrorized by a monster? Seriously? There's a hell of a big difference, you stupid shit for brains. Rape is not consensual, you fucking cockroach! Why don't you crawl back into the hole you crawled out of!"

That was all I had a chance to say, as Christian literally picked me up and carried me to the SUV. What I didn't realize until afterwards was that the reporter who had quickly become the target of my wrath was Hispanic, and the word on the street quickly became that I was being racist when I called him a cockroach. Seriously? It didn't matter that Ismintis had branches in Mexico City and Buenes Aires that employed hundreds of people, or that there were two Latinas in my executive staff. The media seemed determined to make me into something I wasn't.

This was essentially how I became a prisoner, and Grey Manor became my prison walls. I couldn't leave the compound at all, and even walks down to the shore of Lake Washington seemed risky. I knew I was supposed to walk as much as I could as part of my recovery process, but I also realized how easy it would be for someone to spy on me from neighboring property with a good camera with a telescopic lens, or even with a drone. I didn't feel safe, so I stayed inside most of the time. When I did venture outside, I made sure Prescott or another security officer was with me, so I was never alone. Even though I longed to be left by myself, I didn't feel safe. The library of Grey Manor was still my favorite room, and it was where I spent most of my time. I even had my therapy sessions there. It hadn't been difficult to convince Geeta to come to Grey Manor for my continued daily sessions. She was very aware of the continued stress that the paparazzi gave me, which was the main reason she encouraged me to follow through with my idea.

As I mentioned earlier, Kate helped a lot with the media chaos. She spun the story differently, so within just a few hours, I went from being an elitist racist to a strong survivor. She interviewed some of my employees from diverse ethnic backgrounds, who spoke out in my defense. Kate also called in favors to create a social media outcry on my behalf... that a rape victim could be treated the way that I had been when leaving the hospital was a shame and disgrace. The asshole reporter who'd become the object of my wrath was condemned by Kate's followers. It helped a lot, not only with my media reputation, but also with my morale. It was one of the reasons I had such mixed feelings about what I needed to do.

I didn't make up my mind until that fifth day, but a final nail in the coffin sealed the deal for me. I got an email from, of all people, an editor from Playboy Magazine. They wanted my permission to publish photos... of me! Photos that I didn't even know existed. Photos that had been taken over two years ago... by none other than my asshole ex-boyfriend Jose fucking Rodrigues. The editor included thumbprints, and oh my God! The asshole had taken pictures of me while I was sleeping! Nude! As if the country hadn't already seen enough of my naked body when THEY WATCHED MY LIVE-STREAMED RAPE!

I was beyond outraged. I wanted to kill someone. I lost track of what happened between first reading that email and finding myself in Carrick's study drinking a glass of scotch. Had I killed someone? I had no recollection of how I ended up sitting in Carrick's study, staring at him as he sat across from me.

"Ummm... Carrick..." I shook my head to try to clear it. "How did I get here?"

Carrick smiled sadly at me. "What's the last thing you remember?"

I thought about it for a moment. "I read an email from Playboy Magazine. They want to make me their covergirl because my slimeball ex-boyfriend from a couple of years ago took nude photos of me that he tried to sell them. I want to kill him, Carrick. I want to fucking kill him!"

"Anastasia, you asked me for legal advice, so my first advice is this. Don't tell your attorney when you're planning to kill someone." He smiled sadly again. I knew he was trying to make a joke, because he didn't think I was really capable of murder. I wasn't so sure about that myself. I wasn't sure anymore what I was capable of.

"What did I miss, Carrick?" I asked.

"Nothing to be concerned about, dear," he answered. "You... asked me for some legal advice, and I read the email. Even if they legally could, which they can't, Playboy won't publish these photos without your permission. You don't need to worry about them. I'll take care of it for you. But this young man, the photographer, he's another story. If you want my legal advice..."

"Yes, I do," I jumped in.

"You need to file a lawsuit against him for invading your privacy. Ask for an immediate injunction to stop him from selling the photos to anyone else. You might find this hard to believe, but Playboy has... standards. He can easily find a buyer without the same standards."

"Do it, Carrick. I'll pay you whatever you charge. Bill me for it."

"Don't be ridiculous, Anastasia," Carrick scoffed. "You're almost my daughter."

Christian picked just that moment to come storming into Carrick's study. "Ana! Are you OK? What the hell happened to the library?!"

I stared at him in confusion. "What do you mean?" I asked. "I'm fine, Christian. What's wrong with the library?"

Carrick responded, "Anastasia had a bit of a... shocking email. She didn't... umm.. respond well. Don't worry about it, son. Grace is already giving our staff instructions for taking care of the library."

"Wait, what?" I asked. "What did I do, Carrick? I don't remember."

Carrick shook his head. "That's a conversation for another day... maybe with Dr. Patel tomorrow. Not anything you need to worry about right now."

"But..." I tried to argue, but Christian stopped me.

"What do you mean she received a shocking email?" he asked. "What now, and why wasn't I notified?"

"It's not a security threat," I told him. "Well, not mine anyway. My ex-boyfriend's life might be in danger. I might kill him."

"What ex-boyfriend, and what did he do?" Christian demanded.

"Jose Rodriguez," I answered. "I'd forgotten that the asshole is a photographer."

"What did that limp-dicked son of a bitch do?" Christian asked.

"He tried to sell nude photos of me to Playboy!" I announced.

"What!?" Christian shouted. "I'll kill him!"

"Children!" Carrick yelled. "Nobody is killing anybody! We're suing him, not committing murder. I will serve him tomorrow, Anastasia. You don't need to worry about this. You asked me to represent you, so it's best if you don't have any contact with Mr. Rodriguez yourself. All communication needs to be through me."

"That's fine, Carrick. I wasn't really going to kill him," I told him. But I wasn't really sure.

Grace came to the door at that moment. "Dinner's almost ready," she announced. "How are you feeling, dear?" she asked me.

"What did I do, Grace?" I asked her.

"You just had a bit of a meltdown, honey," she answered. "It's perfectly understandable. Don't worry about it. Gail was already here helping out with Christina, and she took it upon herself to help Greta get things back in order."

I felt mortified. "Did I... destroy the library?" I asked tentatively.

"You don't remember?" Christian asked.

"I have no recollection of what happened between reading that email and ending up here in Carrick's office. I don't even know how much time passed between the two."

Carrick said, "Like I said... don't worry about it, Anastasia. Talk about it with your therapist tomorrow."

"Carry's right," Grace chimed in. "This is not something for you to feel embarrassed about. Your reaction was very normal, all things considered. Let's put it out of our minds for now and go eat dinner."

I still wasn't able to eat much, but I was on solid food, and had been since coming home from the hospital. Grace had given her kitchen staff very specific orders about my diet, and they prepared foods that would supposedly speed my recovery. I ate a few bites of the perfectly seasoned chicken breast with mashed potatoes, but I really couldn't handle much. I hadn't been hungry since my attack, and now I was frazzled. In spite of Carrick and Grace's comforting words, I felt disconcerted that I couldn't remember an apparent breakdown that I'd had. What was wrong with me? Was I actually getting better, or was this a sign that I was losing my mind?

I had already made most of the arrangements. My pilot was on standby, and my newest plane was ready to fly. The property manager of my home in Hawaii had already gotten it ready for me. Geeta and I had a plan to continue our sessions via Skype, so this wasn't a concern. But there were a few loose ends that I needed to tie up. I would still need a nurse, at least once a day or possibly every two days. And security... I didn't dare go anywhere without protective officers, and I hadn't yet said anything to Prescott. I knew Christian was hiring an additional officer for me, but we'd let it slide for the past few days since I wasn't going anywhere, and there was plenty of security already at Grey Manor.

It was time to tell Christian, and I had been dreading this moment for the past few days. I waited until after we'd put Christina to bed. Normally, we'd spend the evening back in the library, but Christian hadn't let me go near it, so I still didn't know what kind of mess I'd made. Instead, we walked hand-in-hand down to the pier and ended up in the boathouse.

"I need to tell you something," I said as I sat down on the sofa.

Christian took a seat next to me and responded, "Don't say it, Ana."

I looked at him in confusion. What did he think I was going to say? "I have to, Christian."

He shook his head and looked completely dejected. "Don't," he repeated.

He was worrying me. This was not the way this needed to go. "What do you think I'm going to say?" I asked him.

He looked at me sadly and answered, "Ana, I'm in charge of Ismintis now, remember? I know everything that's going on. You got your jet ready. Your pilot is on standby. You're leaving me."

Well, shit! When he put it like that... "Christian... I'm not leaving you," I argued. "Well, I am, but not like you make it sound. It's just for a few days. I'm going out of my mind here. I've got to get away from Seattle. I want to go to Hawaii and spend some time in my home there, just until Kate and Elliot's wedding."

"That's next week," he reminded me.

"Yeah, I know," I replied. "In Fiji. Hawaii is about half way between here and Fiji."

"Well, that's convenient," Christian said dryly.

"Christian, I'd prefer for you to come with me, but you can't. I need you here more, keeping things in order at Ismintis."

"You've already made up your mind, haven't you?" he said dejectedly.

I nodded and answered, "I need this."

He blew out a puff of exasperation. "No, what you need is an orgasm or five. But you can't have one yet, so you're leaving me instead. Damn it."

"I'm sorry, Christian," I told him. "You're right though, an orgasm would make me feel better."

"Ana..." he said in a warning tone.

I continued, ignoring his tone, "The doctor said no sex. He didn't say we couldn't... do other things."

He stared at me in silence for a moment. Then, before I could stop him, he got out his phone and made a call. Who the hell was he calling now?

"Dr. Perkins?" he asked. Holy shit, he had my surgeon on speed dial? "Christian Grey. Quick question? How soon after her surgery can Anastasia have an orgasm?" He listened intently for a few seconds, and then thanked the doctor before ending the call.

"Christian... did you just call my surgeon and ask him if I could have an orgasm?" I asked him dumbfoundedly.

He smiled at me evilly and answered, "Yes, I did." But he continued more seriously, "And no, you can't. Your pelvis is still too sore. I know from how you move around... you haven't had enough time to heal. He said that your pelvis contracts when you have an orgasm, so we needed to wait until you don't feel sore there anymore."

I nodded in resignation. "OK."

"Hey!" he said, putting his finger under my chin and lifting my face. "We'll make up for lost time when you're ready."

I sighed. "Do you still want me?" I finally asked the question that had been nagging at me all week.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Christian asked. Now he was the one who sounded dumbfounded.

"I'm scarred, Christian. I'll carry some of these scars for the rest of my life, even after I've healed."

Christian stared at me as if I had two heads. Then, still without speaking, he ripped off his shirt. Holy shit! God, I wanted him.

"Ana, look at my chest, and tell me what you see," he demanded.

I took advantage of the moment to drink him in. My God, he was a fine specimen of man. "I see the sexiest man I've ever laid eyes on," I answered honestly.

He smirked for a moment before insisting, "Look closer. What else do you see?"

I did as he asked, and realized what he wanted. "Your scars? Is that what you're getting at?" I asked.

"Exactly," he answered. "Ana... have you forgotten so quickly? You're the only one. The only one who has EVER been able to touch me here." He took my hand and placed it on his chest, directly over his heart... and scars.

I began to cry, which made Christian tug me into his lap. He kissed my tears away and then nuzzled my neck. "Don't cry, Ana. And don't doubt my love for you. You are still the most beautiful woman in the universe. You're still the only one for me. Never doubt that, baby."

"Christian..." I had so many doubts I wanted to express, and I knew we needed to have this conversation, no matter how hard it was. "What if I'm never able to... you know..."

"What?" he asked, but I knew he knew what I was referring to. "Do you still want me, Ana? Are you still attracted to me?" What? Why was he asking that?

"Of course," I answered. "That's not the point."

"It's exactly the point," he insisted.

"But Christian," I pressed, "You're a Dom."

"Am I?" he asked innocently.

I sat up so I could see his face, and I'm sure he could see my confusion. "Why are you asking?"

"I've been talking a lot with Flynn this week about that, and I'm just not sure anymore," he confessed. "I mean, I'm a dominant man, there's no question there. But as for being a sexual Dominant... I just don't know. What I practiced before... what I learned from Elena? Was it healthy? Was it dominance? Or was it abuse? I honestly don't know."

"What are you saying, Christian?" I asked.

He responded with conviction, "What I'm saying is that I want you, Anastasia, and that isn't going to change. And what I'm saying, princess, is that we will figure out what works for us. If we figure out that we want a completely vanilla relationship, then I will love having that with you, because I love vanilla with you. And if we figure out that we want Dominance and submission, then we'll figure that out when the time comes. I know we will, Ana. You need to put these worries out of your head. I want you, Ana. I will always want you."

I curled myself into his lap and rested my head on his shoulder. After a few moments of basking in his comfort, I said, "I love you so much. But I still need to go to Hawaii."

"I know," Christian said.

"It's only for a few days," I reminded him.

"Just until Elliot and Kate's wedding?" he confirmed. I nodded, to which he replied, "OK, but only if you take security... and a nurse."

"Of course," I agreed. "I need to tell Prescott."

"And it's time that you meet De'Andre the Giant," he added.

"Who?" I asked.

"Your new CPO," he explained. He took out his phone again and called Taylor. "Tell Wesson we need him tomorrow. 8 a.m. sharp. And tell him to pack a bag. Ana's going to Hawaii."