After calling over the waiter and ordering Ana a large margherita pizza, I was finding it hard to make conversation. Ana was giggling and talking about this and that, but I had a thousand things running through my mind. She noticed; I could tell. But I could not for the life of me get myself together long enough to be a good lunch date for her.

"What," she deadpanned. "I can see your gears turning."

I shook my head and gave her a tight smile. "Nothing, it's not anything."

"We can talk about it, Christian." She put her hand on top of my folded arms and began to caress me. As if she were soothing me. I have never let a woman touch me so… haphazardly. "It's ok that you might have questions. Or even want to tell me your side of the story. I just… do not want you to leave here and go home and hate yourself over this."

She sounded like John Flynn. My therapist of seven years. He knew what Elena was to me but in the time I have been seeing him, he had never once reached inside of me and ripped it out like this girl has.

She sounded like a schoolteacher. All patient, and placating. I almost envied those children she poured her love into.

"I never once," I shook my head. "I never thought Linc. Even when you were beginning your story, I thought you were about to tell me that Elena had…" I trailed off, unable to say the words she had so bravely told me just minutes before.

"Honey, you thought they just had a whole room in their house that Eric never went into?" she smiled, sweetly. The playroom.

Yes, I suppose that is what I thought. I'm a dumbass.

"It's not a bad thing to think everyone is good, until they prove they're not Christian."

That isn't at all the case. I don't trust anyone. I think everyone is inherently evil, and the good ones must work every day to conceal it.

Like me.

"I just assumed the divorce was because of me. Elena even insinuated it might have been. He assaulted her. Weeks before. She led me to believe that it was because he had found out. I'm trying to do the math, here. I would have been twenty-three when that took place. My first official year of business. I gave Elena the money for the divorce lawyer. Eric was going to take her for all that she had. How old are you, Ana?"

"I'll be twenty-two in August."

That would have made her seventeen the summer Elena announced she'd be getting a divorce. We bought the salons the year after, once I was convinced Grey House was going to be my 'long-haul'.

"That's right, that would have been at the same time…" I was thinking out loud at this point.

"Do you think that maybe she laid all of that on you so you would feel bad for her? I mean… I can assume that the two of you were no longer, involved at that point. Right? So, she didn't have that over your head. She might have just blamed it on you, so you would feel obligated to help her. She knew you were a good person, and she took advantage of that."

I felt stupid. And angry. And so very guilty.

Our pizza had arrived.

The smell of it was honestly making me sick. But Ana's eyes got big and round and she was picking up a slice before the pie had fully hit the table.

"Thank you!" she said. Smiling sweetly at the teenage server. "That was so fast. It looks great!" At the sight of her, he appeared to have forgotten how to speak. I know the feeling, kid.

Even in her sweatshirt and no sleep, Ana was beautiful. Today, she was leaning more on the cute side than the exquisite girl on stage at my mother's event but even still, she was a sight to behold.

And this pizza-faced boy had become beholden.

"She said thank you." I said, dragging him out of whatever disgusting daydream he had fallen into.

He jumped at my voice, nodded and walked off.

"Meany," Ana whispered, flirtatiously.

She began to blow on her slice of pizza, cooling the cheese off. I have really tried to reign myself in, here. I have tried not to think of Ana in the way I had the night after the event. But when she's sitting across from me her mouth a perfect 'O' as she blows, my pants suddenly don't fit in the same way they did moments ago.

As we ate, we made small talk. Never really stepping back into the conversation we came from. Ana began to get a bit of life back into her cheeks, and I once again began to feel terrible that I had led her to believe I would terminate her from her job.

"Ana, I'm not one to beat a dead horse…" I paused as she laughed at my inuendo. "But I just want to reiterate how deeply sorry I am for scaring you. I know we haven't known each other for long, but from hearing my mother talk… you truly are all of those wonderful things you said about yourself. You are damn good at your job. And I know you aren't just doing a job; you love those children. I cannot tell you how much I regret what I wrote in that note. I needed to get you here and my curiosity just… took over. Please know, that I am never a remorseful man. However right now, I am embarrassed at how I have acted."

Ana smiled a knowing smile and took another bite of her pizza. "I don't believe you'd feel so bad if I didn't look so bad right now." She wasn't wrong. "but I don't think there's a piece of sense in holding a grudge. So, as long as you don't ever do it again… we can be friends." She shrugged.

"You want to be my friend?" I ask.

"Yeah. If you don't ever treat me like that again. I'm not always this nice, Grey. And there ain't no education in the second kick of a mule."

"I hope you're not always nice," I muse out loud. "The idea of you letting someone get on top of you like I have tried to makes me very upset. You stick up for yourself well, then?" This was none of my business. But I couldn't help myself.

She gives me a quizzical look, raising her eyebrow.

"You mentioned that my apple would not fall far from Elena's tree if I would get upset that you had stuck up for yourself. I would never get upset if you were making sure that no one ran over you, Ana." I know I am speaking as if she belonged to me, but I need her to hear this.

"I bet you're good at it." She said quietly.

I leaned forward and grabbed another slice, "at what?"

She stared off into the restaurant and bit her lip. When she looked back, she stared right into my eyes. "being a dom."

The girl floors me. I try to be a gentleman at every turn, and she shuts me down. I am so afraid if I were to play her game, I would run her off.

"I think I probably have a lot to learn." I try to sound despondent. Try to sound like it's alright that she's telling me these things, but I didn't expect anything from her by answering them.

Her foot hits my shin again, and she plays around down there for a moment before crossing her legs. "maybe so, but I bet you've got a lot you could teach too."

That was my opening. I know it was. But I don't take it. I don't let her become an object to me. I just smile tightly and hope on everything that she drops it.

She does.

"So, watcha got planned for the rest of the day?" She asked, cheerily. How this girl could continue to be in good spirits after the conversations we've had is beyond me. But her mood had such a direct effect on mine, I began to smile as well.

"Well," I replied. "It's 2 now, so I suppose I should go find a quiet place to hate myself." I joke, throwing her earlier words back at her.

"Can I come too?" She looked up at me, shyly.

Can she come too? Come where? With me?

"Never mind. It's ok if you're busy. I just don't have plans today and thought maybe if you didn't either we could just… hang out."

"Hang out?" I asked. I don't 'hang out' with anyone.

"Yeah. You know. Like friends?"

I didn't want to be her friend. I want to do disgusting things to her. Things I shouldn't even consider after the story she's told me over lunch. But if the girl wanted to 'hang out', we would have out. I'm finding it hard to believe I could tell her no to anything, right now.

"Sure. Yes. We should… hang out." I felt like a child saying it out loud. "My parents have family dinner on Sunday afternoons at six. Is that alright with you?"

"Oh sure," she said checking the watch on her dainty wrist. I'd buy her a diamond watch, instead of that fake leather band. "We can just hang out for a little bit and then when you're headed out, I'll get out of your hair." She smiled.

"No, Ana. You'll come to dinner with me. That's why I mentioned it? My parents have family dinner tonight at six, is that enough time for you to be ready?" It was a question. I swear it was. But it came out as a demand. Old habits die hard, I suppose.

Ana, ever the surprise, did not fault me for my tone. Instead, she seemed to be in deep thought. I could see her 'gears turning' as she had told me earlier.

"I guess I can get a cobbler ready in an hour and a half." She said after a beat.

"What?"

"A peach cobbler. That's the quickest thing I can think of. I think I've got some peaches in the freezer. I could get myself ready and a peach cobbler by 5:30. That's enough time to get to your momma and daddy's right?"

In the three days I've known her I've come to realize something about Ana. She only ever speaks one of two ways. Sometimes, her southern drawl takes her voice down low and slow. She'll breath every syllable through one at a time. It's melodic. And then other times, she speaks quick, and pitchy. Almost as if she is skipping sections of a word that don't necessarily have to be there. It makes me wonder what she would sound like if she were in a room full of Georgians. Would I even be able to understand her?

"Why do you suddenly need to make a dessert? I thought we were going to hang out?"

She giggles and stands from the booth.

I follow, like a damn puppy.

"We are. You're just going to have to come to my apartment, instead. I've got to make something for your momma, so we don't show up empty handed."

"Ana, I've invited you as a guest. You don't have to make anything."

"Are you silly or stupid?" She asked, "you get invited to someone's house and you just show up and eat their food? I've never in my life."

So that's how we ended up at Ana's one-bedroom apartment defrosting peaches.

I sat on the kitchen counter like a boy watching his mother cook, while Ana went from bowl to bowl mixing and folding and talking. She could multitask, I will give her that. She was telling me stories about cooking with her grandmother as a latchkey kid in Savannah. She was asking me questions about my family, and what it was like growing up with Grace. I could tell she wanted to know about the adoption. She admitted she had googled me but her good manners took hold, and she asked no more than I was willing to give up.

By the time she had the dish in the oven, I had explained every member of my immediate family to Ana in more detail than I'd ever given anyone.

She was just so easy to talk to. She had such a nurturing tone. I suppose it came from being a teacher. Special education, at that. Perhaps that's where her patience came from as well. It made me want to see her in action. Watch her in a classroom setting. I hated children.

Hate is a strong word, I know. But I vehemently abhor them. However suddenly I wished I could see how she interacted with them.

"whoo hoo!" she yelped, childishly as she opened the oven, bringing me out of my thoughts and into the present. "It's done!

Ana and I made it to Bellevue in record time. I had been without Taylor all day and I think the man was getting anxious. He had messaged me multiple times throughout the day asking for permission to keep an eye on my location. I'm not sure why I felt compelled to go meet Ana alone today. I'm not sure what I was expecting. But in hindsight, I have enjoyed a private day with her. I only hope she lets me do this again.

With Ana's peach cobbler in tow, we make our way inside.

Gretchen answers the door and smiles her 'look at me' smile in my direction. "Good afternoon, Mr. Grey." She said with a seductive undertone. Gretchen is a beautiful woman. She is a tall blonde, curvy girl. In a moment of private jibbing, Elliot referred to her as 'stacked' once. Dad lost it on the both of us, giving us a lesson on just exactly why we would never speak of her in that way again. He had always been a rule-follower when it came to hired help around the house. Mom was fond of the way Gretchen kept the kitchen up, so dad threatened Elliot and I within an inch of our lives. He didn't have to worry about me, however. Gretchen was too tall. Too curvy. And too blonde for my attention. Any woman that would openly flirt with a man that quite obviously had a date on his arm, was not the type of woman I would be found associating with. Even though Ana was not my date… we were 'hanging out as friends'.

Gretchen took my coat and placed it in the coat closet, continuing to ignore Ana. But she didn't seem phased. She was looking around the foyer, wide eyed at my mother's classic décor.

"You grew up in this house?" She asked, quietly.

"I did. We moved to Seattle when I was 5. I don't have a lot of memories of before… so this is home." I had memories of Michigan. But none that you'd speak about moments before dinner.

"Is your bedroom still the same as it was when you were a little boy? Mom keeps mine the very same in Savannah." She smiled, thinking of her childhood. Or thinking of me as a little boy, I'm not sure.

I nod my head and laugh quietly. "It is. I'll show you after dinner."

Footsteps quickly approached us. Mom's by the sound of her light steps.

"My baby!" Mom cried, turning the corner. I held my breath, preparing myself for her discovery. "Oh Anastasia! How are you sweetheart! I didn't know you were coming tonight!"

Ana turns toward me and swats me on my chest with the back of her hand. Mom gasped. "I'm sorry, Miss Grace. I wish Christian would have told you."

I could still feel her hand on my chest after she'd pulled it away. It wasn't the burning feeling I thought it would be. Just warm. I couldn't quite place it. I could tell Grace was trying to place it as well. I would be shocked if she even heard what Ana had said, her eyes hadn't left my chest since Ana's hand had.

"Well, I knew you wouldn't mind. Ana and I had gone to lunch together, so I just invited her for dinner."

Mom smiled. Her face finally collecting the shock and throwing it off. "I absolutely don't mind. Ana, it's good to see you dear. Mia will be ecstatic!" She made her way across the room and hugged my girl.

My girl. Who the hell am I?

She's my friend. We're hanging out.

"Come into the den, sweetheart. Let me reintroduce you to Carrick. I don't believe the two of you got a chance to really meet." She grabs Ana by her elbow and takes her into the other room, leaving me to amble around with a peach cobbler. I'm chopped liver compared to this bright girl that has ruined my day and then built it up again.

I think I'm ok with it.

Mia was ecstatic.

She acted as if Ana had shown up on her own accord specifically to see her. Which was so cute, that I didn't correct her.

The girls were giggling curled up on the couch with each other by the time Elliot and his girlfriend had made their appearance.

Katherine Kavanaugh had been seeing my brother for a total of eight months. Which was a world record for Elliot, as his usual relationships were only weeks long. He wasn't a playboy, necessarily. He just had terrible luck. Every girl he ever met; he fell in love with.

He had brought so many girls to meet Grace that she didn't even take it seriously anymore. Her high society manners kept her well enough to have always been nice to Kate. But it had been almost a year since they met, and she still treated the relationship as if it were one of Elliot's 'flings' from time to time.

There was often a tension between Grace and Kate. Carrick stayed out of it, Mia and I pretend we don't notice, and Elliot has never brought it up. But somewhere along the way, someone's feelings must have gotten shirked. And by no means was it just the fault of my mother's. While she held her own, Katherine was just as guilty of doing anything but mending the relationship. If Elliot wanted to make anything permanent, I'd hope that he would push them to reconcile.

If I were the dating kind, I would never pursue things with a woman my mother didn't like. I don't care if that makes me sound like a 'momma's boy' or not.

Grace loved Ana, however. I could see it in her eyes.

Dad had even taken to her once she told the reasoning behind their son walking in with a dessert in hand. He was asking her question after question of whereabouts she grew up, and the ways of living in a place so different than Seattle. Dad grew up in Louisiana, and suddenly… after years of having lost it, had a slight twang to the way he spoke to Ana.

Perhaps it came back to him like an old friend once he heard the similarities of Ana's voice to his mother's. The soft "r's", and the drawn-out vowels making Ana's one syllable words sound as if they were two or three, had Carrick by the heartstrings.

By the time dinner was served, Elliot had gotten comfortable enough around Ana's sweet nature that he was now ribbing her for the way she spoke. Mocking it by trying to imitate her. She took it on the chin, and I had to force myself not to seem so infatuation with her while she held her own and pestered him back.

How upsettingly wonderful is it that it feels as if she fits so perfectly here with us, but she considers herself my friend?