Chapter Twenty-one
A few days later, Mia calls me, explaining that she doesn't have time for lunch this week, so I assure her, "That's fine. I thought that might happen. Just text me if you can't make it next week. I know how busy you are, and we'll see each other at your party anyway."
She breathes a laugh, and says, "I still can't believe you talked Christian into dressing up for Halloween. He refused even as a child."
I smile and reveal, "Something you should know about your brother is that he'll do just about anything I ask."
"Clearly. Did you also talk him into a couple's costume?"
It still makes me uneasy. "Uh, yeah. We're going as Bonnie and Clyde after their final shootout. He knows a makeup artist who'll make us look quite convincing. And he'll shave his beard for the occasion, to help ensure we're not recognized."
After a moment, Mia asks, "You don't like the idea? Sounds cute to me."
"Millar goes by his middle name, Clyde, and calls his girlfriend Bonnie. The costume is Christian's idea. He suspects Bonnie is monitoring our movements, and will learn of the costumes."
"She's still whereabouts unknown?"
"Yeah."
"Wouldn't this just piss her off?"
"Exactly."
"Oh. Why on earth would Christian want to do that?"
Finally able to smile, I do my best to imitate his voice, and quote, "Because fuck 'em. No junkie narcissist with a death wish is going to keep us from living our lives."
Mia bursts out laughing, and exclaims, "That's amazing, Ana. It sounded just like him." We're both quiet for a few seconds, and then she says, "He has his moments, doesn't he?"
My smile widens, and I say, "Just occasionally. Anyway, I'm not crazy about it, so he's got a pair of costumes as backup, and I'll decide before the party. Are you and Ethan going to coordinate?"
"I'm going as a dominatrix, and he'll be my gimp."
Grateful that we're not dining for this conversation, or I would have just inhaled my lunch, I splutter a laugh, and exclaim, "How the hell did you get Ethan to agree to that?"
"Something you should know about your friend is that he'll do just about whatever I ask."
That makes me smile. "So it's going well?"
"Well enough to make me wonder if it's real when we're not together. It was like this for you and Christian, this intensity?"
"Still is. You've not felt it before?"
"No. I mean, if you'd asked me, I'd have said yes. But I realize now that it's different with Ethan...somehow more intense and more relaxed at the same time."
"Like standing in the eye of a storm, but you're also the storm, so there is no fear."
Her voice filled with wonder, Mia simply says, "Yeah." A moment later she giggles, and asks, "Am I in love?"
"Sure sounds like it. Of course, you know what that means."
"Oh?"
"That you'll do just about anything he asks."
She laughs again, and says, "If that's how this works, then dead Bonnie and Clyde will be attending my Halloween party."
The next evening, I've said goodbye to Julia after my workout—I only train once a week now—and make my way to the bedroom, where Christian announces, "You missed a call from Ray. He didn't leave a message."
"You peeked at my phone?"
"In case it was Lee or Greene."
I guess that makes sense, and I'm not hiding anything from him. "Okay, thanks." If it were urgent, Dad would have tried harder to contact me, so I have some time. "I'll just take a quick shower, and meet you in the dining room."
"Care for some company?"
"Christian, I'm sweaty and exhausted."
"Baby, if that's intended to put me off, it's not working." When I laugh at that, he adds, "No, I just need a shower."
"Oh, okay."
Our schedules so rarely overlap that it's unusual for us to shower together. I'm hoping that's the only reason I feel nervous as we disrobe together, and then he says, "After you, My Lady."
It's enough to make me relax, and I let the water warm up before entering the cubicle. The other shower jet comes on, and I soon hear Christian's soft moan of satisfaction. As the water cascades over me, I smile and comment, "You sometimes make the very same sound during sex."
He laughs and says, "Well, they're both incredibly satisfying. Why were you nervous just now?"
As he asks, I understand. "Uh, I...we're usually lying down for sex, and..." It's probably lack of activity, as much as the potential person inside me, but I have a slight paunch. I still haven't thought how to express myself, and Christian is silently waiting for my explanation, so I settle for miming the stages of pregnancy, until my extended arms are suggesting a massive belly.
The other shower jet shuts down, and Christian's hands are on my shoulders when he asks, "You're worried that I won't find you as attractive while your body changes?"
Out loud it sounds kind of silly—my body has already changed since me met—but I can't help how I feel. I shrug and explain, "I've always been skinny."
"Ana, I love you, not your body, though you know I'm a huge fan of every single inch, and I don't imagine that will ever change. Besides, you were a little underweight when we met."
Moments away from weeping, I daren't risk speaking or the floodgates will open, so merely shake my head. Christian gently prizes my bottom lip from my teeth, and then kisses me, just as gentle. Next, he kisses my belly. It's a surprise when he's then washing it, and I'm finally able to smile. "Darling, do you intend to wash every inch?"
He moves on, to kiss my left hip, before saying, "I do, until you're squeaky clean or believe me, whichever comes first."
My mood is broken, and I assure him, "It's okay, I believe you, but I'll probably freak out about it occasionally, especially when the pregnancy hormones take control."
He's washing my hip, as he says, "Then you'd better get used to being bathed."
All this attention is having a predictable effect on my altered body, and I say, "You missed a bit...or bits, right there in the middle."
When I finally meet up with Christian in the dining room, he says, "That was a quick phone call. Everything okay?"
"Uh, huh. Dad just wanted to let us know that someone new will be joining us for dinner on Saturday."
"The former housekeeper?"
"Yeah. I know he's dated since the divorce, but this will be the first time I've met any of them, so I think he really likes her."
As Christian helps me to my chair, he comments, "I presumed so, given that he pursued her."
"Actually, he swears that she's the one who suggested a romantic relationship, once she was no longer his housekeeper."
"Oh? Well, that's gotta be good for his ego. And how do you feel about this?"
"Fine. I mean, it's kind of weird, but I'm not a kid, and he deserves happiness."
As I sit, Christian pushes in my chair, and then kisses my cheek before saying, "He does. Sushi rolls tonight, all either vegetarian or made with cooked fish, low in mercury."
I recall seeing this on the week's menu. Thursday evening means a healthy snack before my workout, and a light supper afterwards. "Oh, I've been looking forward to this. Thought I'd have to give up sushi while I'm pregnant. Gail is amazing."
Christian sits beside me, saying, "She is. May I feed you?"
Worried that his obsessive need to care for me has escalated, I ask, "Why?"
He sounds confused when he suggests, "Because the rolls are bite-sized, and I think it will be fun, for both of us."
Relieved, I relax and consent, "Oh, okay."
"Why did you look afraid?"
My face has betrayed me yet again. I've been avoiding this conversation for a long time. After a deep breath, I begin, "Because...look, I figured you were probably the same with your women, but you...I'm..." Another breath is needed before I find the right words. "I know it's not true, but I sometimes feel like you don't think I can look after myself."
He gasps, and then says, "Ana, that's not why I attend you. I'd do more, if I thought you could tolerate it. How long has this been bothering you?"
"Uh, always, but only a little. I really don't mind, not like if someone else treated me that way, because I understand that it's not so much about my disability, and more about yours."
"My disability?" Worried that I've offended him, I'm about to apologize when he continues, "It's okay. You're right. I've said to Flynn that it's amazing you're the one perceived as disabled, when I'm more likely to be crippled by symptoms." Somewhat reassured, I still need the comfort of his pulse beneath my fingertips as he continues, "To recap, you need to feel independent, and acknowledge my need to wait on you. Any suggestions?"
There is not a trace of emotion in his voice. I know it's one of his coping mechanisms. And his heartrate is rising. He's getting worked up. "Please don't let this upset you. Like I said, it doesn't really bother me. I know you need my comfort."
"And how do you think it makes me feel, to learn that I've been getting it wrong all this time?"
Which is exactly why I didn't mention it before now. "Uh, not good. I'm sorry."
"You have nothing for which to apologize. Just tell me when I'm fucking it up."
I hold his hand to explain, "You're not, darling. I know that I'm blessed to have such a chivalrous husband. It's just that I've spent several years fighting for my independence, from ill-intentioned and well-meaning people. Please let it go."
With a harsh laugh, he asks, "With all that you know about me, you think I can forget this conversation?" I'm wondering how to make this right, when he continues, "You once paid me the high compliment of saying that I never lost the ability to love. And you guessed that I learned to express affection with acts of service. You were right, to some extent, though I existed only as fear for a long time. When I finally got brave enough to love my new family, I couldn't show it; touch terrified me, and I didn't dare even speak for several months." I can't listen to this without closer contact, so lean my head on his shoulder. He kisses my forehead, and explains, "Which is why, without even realizing it, I taught myself to express affection in other ways, like that shabby crown I made for Carrick, or cooking pizza to perfection for my family, often just sharing my time was sufficient. And that was enough to keep me sane, until I collided with adolescent hormones."
In case he's still wary of speaking her name, I say, "Elena."
"Yes. She helped me get through my teenage years, but that's not where I'm going with this. I...the others, being with you has shown me that I truly did care for them."
"I know."
"Yes, you've always known me. Being able to meet their needs, kinky and otherwise, was almost enough to fill the nameless void in me. I could have gone on like that forever if I hadn't met you, finally understood what was missing from my life, and truly remembered how to love."
I sense that there's more to his explanation, but it has to wait while I kiss him, and vow, "I love how you love."
He chuckles, and says, "Evidence to the contrary." I'm about to argue, when he continues, "Easy, baby, I'm not upset." He adopts a Southern drawl, to quote, "What we've got here is a failure to communicate."
We watched Cool Hand Luke just last week, so it makes me smile, and then I guess, "You have a solution."
"Such as it is. I need to learn a different love language, and you need to get better at telling me when to back off. It'll just take time, but we've got the rest of our lives."
"That sounds good to me. Mom says that relationships are like pebbles in a tumbler."
"Sorry?"
"We start out rough, and end up knocking all the corners off each other, until we shine."
He laughs, and says, "Your mother definitely has a way with words. We still have a lot to learn about each other, don't we?"
Thrilled to have avoided unpleasantness, I say, "We do, and I'm looking forward to it. But right now, I'm hungry."
"After you, My Lady." I soon realize what he means, and rest one hand on his cheek to guide a sushi roll into his open mouth. He chews a few times, and then pronounces a muffled, "Good."
I follow up with a small kiss on his lips, and ask, "Have I mentioned today how much I love you?"
"Yes, but I don't get tired of hearing it."
"I love you, more than food."
He chuckles, and points out, "Hardly high praise, baby. Even pregnant, you barely eat."
He's right. "Okay, okay. I love you more than Gail's cooking."
He kisses me, and says, "Now I feel the love."
It's late Sunday evening before I have time to place my weekly call to Mom, and she greets me, "I was just about to call you. Thought maybe you'd forgotten me this week."
I smile, and say, "Unlikely. No, we've been at Montesano."
"And how is Ray?"
"Fit as a fiddle, and he has a girlfriend."
"Oh, really? You met her?"
"Yeah. Miriam...Mimi, was his housekeeper while he healed. She's lovely."
"I'm glad. He deserves lovely. Though it's a little creepy to hit on the help."
"He didn't. When her gig was up, she asked him out."
Mom laughs, and says, "I like her already. Please offer him my congratulations next time you speak?"
"Sure. And how are you and Bob?"
"We're fine, sweetheart. How's my grandchild?"
"So far, so good. Still no nausea."
"And you're going ahead with the procedure for your eyes?"
"Well, eye. Yeah. Lee says not to expect anything for a couple of days to a couple of weeks afterwards."
"That's a pretty large window."
"I think he's being careful how much he promises, because it'd only be an educated guess."
"Would you like me to be with you, sweetheart?"
"No, thank you. I mean, you're welcome, of course. But the infusion itself only takes a couple of hours, and that's the biggest disruption to my routine. I'll be fine."
"Well, I think you're very brave. I always have."
She has said that, more than once. "Yeah. Thanks, Mom."
"Sure you're okay? You sound tired."
"Because I am tired. Dad bought a new bed for me and Christian, which was lovely of him, but it pretty much fills my old room, so it felt weird. I didn't sleep well, and couldn't nap on the way back, because we took the helicopter."
Mom laughs, and says, "You really do lead a different life nowadays. Is it legal to land on private property?"
"Apparently, if we have Dad's permission. The only issue was the horses. He merely left them in their stalls for our arrival. But it took forever to round them up again before we left, because they're used to coming in at dusk, so we were late leaving."
"All right. I'll let you go. Thanks for calling. Sweet dreams, Annie. I love you."
"Love you too, Mom. 'Night."
As usual when we've been away from home, the sound of a piano being expertly played fills the apartment. I guess Christian misses it, which gives me an idea for next month's anniversary gift. When I enter the room, he stops and asks, "How are Carla and Bob?"
And then my brain catches up with the fact that she merely said "fine," when I asked after them, and seemed happy to cut the call short. Shaking my head, before that thought becomes worry, I say, "Fine. She offered to hold my hand through the infusion, but I told her it's not necessary."
"Would you like me to be there for it?"
Except when he was out of town, Christian is always with me for medical appointments. "Oh, I assumed..." And then I realize, "You're leaving the decision up to me."
"Yes." One hand flies to cover my mouth, while I struggle to keep the happy tears at bay. And then Christian's hands are on my shoulders, as he says, "Oh, no, you don't get to weep when I do as you ask. That's hardly fair."
It makes me laugh—no doubt his intention—and I practically fall into his embrace, declaring, "God, I love you."
He holds me tight, saying, "I love you too, baby."
I draw strength from him for several seconds, and then lift my head, to show him how sincere I am, when I command, "Prove it."
His tender caress is on the side of my face, when he asks, "Not too tired?"
I shake my head, and promise, "Not anymore."
Given that we skipped our lunch date again this week, arriving at Mia's party—which sounds well underway—is the first time I've seen her since she moved in. She greets us both, admires our costumes, and orders Christian to fetch her a drink. He doesn't seem to mind, and merely asks, "Ana?"
"Uh, lemon bitters, please." I know the bitters has alcohol, but negligible in a mixed drink.
A touch on my elbow, and a kiss on my cheek, and he's gone. When we're ostensibly alone, Mia says "Oh, yeah, I owe you," and then punches me lightly in the arm.
I can guess why—that one-word text I sent her the morning after our double date—and ask, "Are you claiming that the description doesn't apply with regards to Ethan? Where is he, anyway?"
She laughs, and says, "Oh, it applies; I can't get enough of him. And he's in the bedroom. I took pity on the poor guy. That gimp costume is head-to-toe vinyl, and he was sweating like a pig."
"He has a backup costume?"
"No. He's just making some alterations with scissors."
I smile at the image in my mind, saying, "Hopefully not while he's wearing it."
She giggles, and says, "Hope not. Oh, here's our drinks." And then she more loudly demands, "Ana, make him do karaoke."
I choke on a laugh, and protest, "Mia, I can't make Christian do anything, and wouldn't want him to do anything he'd not enjoy."
When I hold out my hand, as if gripping a glass, he places the drink in it, saying, "I will if Ana joins me."
Warmed by the fact that he's making such an effort to be sociable, I thank him for the drink, and concede, "I'll think about it."
As if I'd just agreed, Mia says, "Excellent! I'll add your names to the board."
When she's gone, I ask, "Board?"
"Karaoke is a go-to for Mia. She thinks the board will prevent mic hogs."
"I didn't think you attended her parties?"
"I don't, unless coerced. But nothing could spare me the blow-by-blow afterwards. Kate and Elliot, incoming."
"Oh, good; she said they'd be here. What are their costumes?"
I presume they're close, because Christian raises his voice slightly, to announce, "Bonnie, meet Pebbles and Bamm Bamm."
Ana is peeing yet again—I'd assumed that happens later in the pregnancy—when I see Jason in a prominent position, looking my way. Something is wrong. I approach and put my head close to his, for relative privacy, and he says, "Sir, I think we should go."
I'm sure he has a good reason, so don't bother asking why. "Okay. Ana's just in the bathroom."
"Rose is up to speed, and will escort her out."
In all our time together, I've never seen him look scared before, but it's not enough to sway me. "Not without Ana. What's going on?"
His jaw bulges in distress, before he explains, "Too many identical hazmat costumes, and they're all avoiding each other."
When it comes to costume parties, I'm at a bit of a loss. "They'd normally interact?"
His gaze sweeping over the crowd, he says only, "At least a nod of recognition."
I look around, but don't see anyone who matches the description. "Are they in here?"
"No, that's the other thing. They're steering clear of this apartment, but with one of them always loitering withing sight of the door. They're also careful to avoid eye-contact with me, and I haven't yet seen one without the facemask."
"How many?"
He shrugs, and says, "Going by height and build, at least three, though they might be part of a larger team."
"Professionals?"
"I fear so. Welch contacted the police, and they've agreed to send a couple of officers as a visible deterrent, but I doubt they'll get here in time to prevent whatever's going down."
"Could Mia be their target?"
He shakes his head, saying, "Impossible to tell. They could be merely opportunistic thieves, but we should assume their target is in this apartment."
"Right. Get everyone out of here who isn't family or friends."
"Sir, I'm not sure that_"
Whatever he was about to say is interrupted by the piercing sound of a fire alarm in the corridor. I'm already heading towards the bathroom when an iron grip stops me. I turn to him with violence in my heart. He removes his hand from my forearm, and reminds me, "Rose is with her."
A deep, shuddering breath brings some control, but I'm trembling with the effort of complying when I merely nod. Thankfully, Ana is already here, asking, "Could this be a false alarm?"
It's Rose who points out, "We evacuate anyway."
By then, Mia has joined us, accusing me, "You'd do anything to avoid karaoke."
I can't manage a laugh under these circumstances, but offer a weak smile. I can see Kate and Elliot heading our way, so command Jason, "Ready when you are."
My throat instantly aches with the need to scream a protest when Mia says, "Right behind you. I'll just find Ethan, and lock up." At the look on my face, her expression hardens, and she insists, "I'm not leaving my place unlocked when there's probably no fire, and not without my boyfriend." I'm relieved to see Kavanagh approaching, but know that stubborn look on my sister very well. I'm wondering how to persuade her, when she adds, "You should be glad I listened to Tariq and didn't get that ninth-floor apartment."
I've never been more grateful for Jason to take charge when he says, "Rose, stay with Ana. I'll escort Ms. Grey and Mr. Kavanagh when they're ready." When he offers me no instruction, I realize it's because he knows that no matter what happens next, I'll be by Ana's side.
Elliot is now close enough to be heard over the constant din. "Think this is a prank?"
I shake my head, saying, "Doesn't matter, we're leaving." I can't recall which member of our team is guarding Kate this week, and ask her, "Where's your guy?"
"Gal. She dropped us off. I'm to text her half an hour before we're ready to leave."
Fuck, that's too long. Wishing that we'd brought the other cars with us—only one is needed on short journeys—I then recall that there are two unused seats in the Q7. "Text her now, to meet you at Escala. You're coming with us." It's soon done, and Kate nods at me. I gesture to the door, saying, "After you."
Seconds later, we're following Pebbles, Bamm Bamm and assorted characters along the corridor, with Bonnie Parker holding onto Rose's belt. It all feels quite surreal, but just being able to see Ana means that my anxiety is under control. Although I'm usually good in an emergency anyway, perhaps because the feeling of too much adrenaline is so familiar. I don't see anyone in a hazmat suit, and none of the partygoers appear panicked—if anything, the mood is jovial—so we're making steady progress towards the stairwell when I spot an elderly gentleman emerging from a doorway, leaning heavily on a walking frame. He doesn't appear to be in costume, so probably lives here. I remember once asking Jason what happens to people with mobility issues in the event of a fire, and his grim expression was answer enough. "Rose, wait up."
Her eyes wide with fear, Ana asks, "What's wrong?"
I try to keep my tone light as I explain "Just be a minute, baby. We might have another member of our conga line," and then ask the stranger, "Need help, sir?"
He eyes me up and down, and comments, "You look quite fit for a guy with so many bullet holes."
I recognize it as a question. Grateful that I'm fully recovered from the poisoning, I promise, "Fit enough."
"Then, yes, I'd appreciate it. I can walk some, but not two flights."
I try to imagine how Ana would want a stranger to assist, and settle on, "How do you wanna do this?"
Moments later, I nod at Rose, and we're soon underway in the packed stairwell, with the gentleman clinging to my back, and me resting an elbow on the railing so the constant jostling doesn't send us flying. Thankfully, he's not very heavy, and I'm pleased to notice that his touch doesn't bother me much, but I'm soon breathing hard. Guess I'm not quite back to peak fitness. Before it gets worse, I ask, "Comfy back there, sir?"
"Like a bug in a rug. I'm Ian."
I've so far managed to avoid being recognized, and merely say, "Chris."
"Thank you, Chris. You might literally be a lifesaver."
"No problem. Unless you need anything, I'm going to focus on not tripping or passing out, okay?"
He chuckles, and says, "Understood."
It seems to take forever but can only be minutes before we reach the lobby, where maintenance staff are herding people outside while the concierge's booming voice is advising everyone assemble at a small park nearby. He'll be hoarse by the time it's done. Ian says, "That's Sid. He knows me. I'll be okay now, thanks."
I make sure Rose knows to wait, and put my passenger down near some chairs, saying, "If you're sure."
I've turned to leave when he grabs my arm, asking, "Your last name?"
When I reply "Barrow," his quiet smile suggests that he knows I'm lying.
Sure enough, he says "Well, I appreciate the help, Clyde," and we seal our farewell with a handshake.
I return to Ana, and ask, "Okay, baby?"
She clutches at my arm, asking, "Is everyone here?"
How the fuck am I supposed to know in this mess? I can't even see my brother anymore. "Let's get outside and do a head count."
"Okay." She releases Rose, asking me, "Can I borrow an arm?"
Her faith in me sends a familiar thrill through my body, and I tuck her hand in the crook of my arm, promising, "Baby, it's yours."
Her smile is a miracle, and I kiss her before we move on. We're soon out in the night air, where I seem to take my first real breath since all this began, and that's when I smell the smoke; it's faint, but unmistakable. I look to Rose for answers, and she reveals, "Trashcan fire, parking garage. It's under control, but a fire truck is on the way, just in case."
I'm wondering how she can know all that when I see Luke approaching, and realize that he would have been in the garage when it happened. He points behind him, saying, "Car is just this way. Can't get closer in this crowd."
I see Kate and Elliot making a beeline for us, and gesture to them, explaining, "Got a couple of hitchhikers, so you'll need to fold out the extra seats." I then rest a hand on Ana's, and instruct her, "Get in the car, baby, and stay warm. I'll wait with Luke for Mia."
"And Ethan."
I smile, and say, "Right."
Ana offers a hand to Luke, who frowns in confusion but is holding her hand when she commands, "Do not let him get away from you."
He chuckles and promises, "I'll do my best. I'm in touch with Taylor; they're on the way down, so we won't be long."
