As I sit back on the couch, curling up, I listen in on Christian's conversation from the next room over. I can't make out many words other than "fucked up" and a grumbled "Anastasia" here and there, but within minutes, he's back out in the main room, joining me on the couch. This time, he faces forward and not toward me.

"He'll be over in thirty minutes," he mutters, looking down. "He said I should apologize for my obtuseness—no, he didn't say it that way, but that's what he meant—so I'm sorry."

As much as I appreciate his apology, I don't think it's genuine, so I simply offer him a half-hearted shrug. "As soon as you begin to mean it, I'll accept it," I respond, not feeling the love, as they say.

He sighs. "I do mean it, Anastasia. Why are you being so frustrating?" he asks, his frustration clear in his tone.

"Because you're being an ass!" I snap, throwing a glare at him. He raises his eyebrows as he looks back at me. Good. I got his attention. "Just because your therapist told you to apologize, that doesn't make it real!"

Nodding, he sighs. "Fair. I see where you're coming from." I shake my head and get up. "I'll be in my room. Remember that one? The one that's not yours?" The pain in his expression answers my question. I storm off to the bedroom that was supposed to be mine once upon a time, the submissive's bedroom. I go inside to the almost sterilely clean room and sit delicately on the edge of one of the chairs, feeling uncomfortable just entering this room, but I needed to go somewhere that was mine and mine alone. I sit there, looking out the window, seeing the cars drive down the road and seeing all the lights of the night.

After some time passes, and I realize I've been stewing in my own annoyance and grief for much too long, I see someone pull into the parking garage and wonder if it's Flynn. The sleek black car seems like something he'd drive, and I think it would suit him. Sure enough, a few minutes later, Christian is knocking on my door softly, calling my name and letting me know that John Flynn has arrived. I take a minute or so to compose myself, to make sure all my emotions are in check before going back out to the main room.

Flynn approaches me with a friendly smile and an extended hand when I reach the two men in the sitting area, and I shake his hand. "Thank you for coming, Dr. Flynn. Especially on such short notice."

"John, please. And Christian here compensates me for my time, so don't you worry about that," he jokes, making Christian chuckle reluctantly and bringing a smile to my face as well. "Shall we sit?" he asks, and we all make our way to a seat, Christian and I sitting on opposite ends of the couch—which must speak volumes to Flynn. Across from us, Flynn takes in the scene before him, and it must be truly a sight to see. A barely pregnant woman with pinkened cheeks from crying on and off all day, and a pissed off man with messy hair from running his hand through it in frustration. He must think we look ridiculous, but we're probably not the worst messes he sees daily—or at least I hope. "So… let's start with Christian, since you called. Tell me what's brought me here."

He takes a deep breath, and I almost expect him to scream. Contrary to my expectations, he starts to talk in a calm, even tone, and I'm sure he and Flynn have worked on this time and time again. "Ana is pregnant, which you already knew, and I asked her to stay home so she didn't overwork herself. She spreads herself so thin," he says, glancing over at me. I must bite my lip to stay quiet and not interrupt, and I must say, I'm impressed with my own restraint. "But now she doesn't want to stay home. She made a comment about my… issues, and it upset me, so she told me to call you. End of story."

Flynn nods, taking in what Christian has told him. "Okay, so to make sure I have this correct, you were feeling upset because you and Ana had a disagreement about her staying home which turned into an argument?" Christian contemplates for a second, then nods. "So, you had an argument… there must be more to this if I'm here right now, am I wrong?" Christian sighs and shrugs, and I look over at him.

"You know there's more," I tell my other half, trying not to sound accusatory. When he doesn't say anything in response, I look over at Flynn for guidance as to how to move the conversation forward.

He just nods at me. "Go ahead, Ana. Let's put this together piece by piece, then we can start to find a solution."

I give him a small smile because that sounds completely reasonable. I like Flynn even more now that I have this kind of relationship with him—he's technically my therapist, too, right? "So… Christian is right. We did get in an argument. We had an argument before, too, which involved me slapping him," I admit, blushing. "I know it wasn't okay, it was completely irrational, and I apologized profusely." Flynn nods his approval at my recognition of the behavior being unacceptable, I presume, so I continue. "I decided…" I take a deep breath, not wanting to admit this to Christian. "I decided the only way to get through to him was to act a little juvenile. To goad him a bit into realizing something was wrong. Once we were both upset and riled up a bit, I finally realized what was going on."

Flynn continues to nod at appropriate increments until I stop talking. "Okay, and what's going on exactly, Ana?"

"She thinks I have control issues," Christian blurts out, a hand fisted in his hair. Uh oh.

"Christian, we've talked about that before, no?" Flynn acknowledges. "She's not completely wrong."

"No, but she also doesn't have to act like a fucking child."

"Then stop treating me like one!" I snap, tearing up. "God damnit!" I say aloud without meaning to, wiping at my eyes. Christian looks over at me in concern. Damn him for being worried about me when we're mad at each other. I want him to be mad, too, so I don't feel bad about it.

"Okay, let's take some deep breaths and talk calmly like adults, please," Flynn interrupts before we get too out of hand. I sigh and do as he advises. I take a deep, cleansing breath and look over at Christian, tears still collecting in my eyes and the occasional one spilling from them.

"Now, Ana, I want to address the slapping part of your story. Does this happen often or—"

"Absolutely not," I cut in, shaking my head.

"Never," Christian adds. "That's what made it so shocking. But I guess it was my fault… I told her she was thoughtless and didn't care about the baby which is far from the truth."

"And why did you say it, then?" Flynn speculates.

"I was angry," he admits, looking over at me apologetically, and I wipe my face again.

Flynn nods. "Thank you for acknowledging that. I'm sure Ana appreciates that," he says, looking for me for validation, which he gets in the form of a nod. "Okay, so how do we move forward from this?" he asks us. "Any ideas before I give my advice?"

I look down at my lap, fidgeting with my shirt. I shrug. "I could work on keeping my emotions more in check. It's hard with my hormones and all, but I can work on keeping them at bay."

I get a nod from Flynn. "Good. I think that's a good start. Christian?" He simply shrugs. "I think you need to work on letting Ana have her freedom. She's a grown woman, Christian, and I know you're afraid of what will happen if you give up that control, but she'll start resenting you if you keep her under lock and key. You know that, don't you?"

Christian nods. "I'll work on it. And… I'll work on keeping my cool. I've been losing it too much lately."

Flynn offers us a smile. "Anything else you can work on together?"

"I want to go back to work," I blurt out, avoiding eye contact with Christian.

"No," he nearly snaps. He takes a breath. "No," he says more calmly. "Let's just… let's make those lists we discussed."

"I'm going back to work," I say again, with more confidence.

"Christian," Flynn begins, "she's not that pregnant yet. It's reasonable for her to be working still. Maybe instead of limiting her work hours, you can work on encouraging more self-care once she's out of work for the day. Do more things together that are enjoyable. That way, she can still get the balance of work and play, as they say."

Christian hangs closely onto every word this man says, and I can see how much he truly trusts him and what he suggests. I can tell they've worked through some challenging times together. He nods a few times, contemplating this. "How about… you don't go to work as much? You only work a few hours a day?"

I shake my head. "No. I want to work my normal hours. I'm fully capable. Later, when I'm bigger and more pregnant, we can talk about stepping back a bit before my leave, though. That, I'm agreeable to."

He sighs but nods, and I see this as a victory. Flynn nods, as well, and I think he agrees with me. "Do we need to discuss safe outlets for stress, or do you think we're good there?"

I shrug, and Christian rolls his eyes and recites from memory—because I'm sure he's heard it a thousand times—exercise, hobbies, eating right, and calm discussions."

Flynn laughs. "You got it. Hit the head on the nail. Are we good here, you two? I'm here anytime you need me, obviously you know that, or I wouldn't be here right now. I think it's time you two sit and discuss how you're going to avoid this situation later, which I'd be happy to moderate if needed."

Christian and I lock eyes, and I think we agree instantly that this conversation has cleared our heads enough to be able to have a level-headed conversation without Flynn present. "I think we're fine, but thank you, John," Christian amends. "Thank you for coming over so late," he says sincerely, standing to shake his hand. I follow suit and shake hands with the man who reasoned with us both and got us to a healthier place. We walk him to the elevator, and once he's gone, Christian and I turn to look at each other, neither one of us saying a thing, but we don't need to. We see in each other's eyes how apologetic we are and how we never want an argument to get to this level again.