On Wednesday evening, I'm in my bathroom getting ready for my date with Thomas. I pause for a moment. Is this really a date? When we spoke about it, he made it sound like a nice, casual outing between two friends. Do I want it to be a date? The only person I've ever really dated is Christian, as brief as that courtship was. I suppose it can't hurt to label it a date initially and wait to see what happens. Besides, it's not as though we'll be completely alone all evening; I had a bit of trouble finding a babysitter for Teddy, mostly because I don't know anybody locally and some of Christian's overprotective paranoia seems to have rubbed off on me, so we'll be bringing him along. Thomas was surprisingly okay with me bringing my son along and even suggested found us a nice little family restaurant where Teddy could play all sorts of arcade games after we eat to give Thomas and me the chance to talk.

It hits me suddenly as I finish applying my makeup that Christian and I never took Teddy to places like this back home. Christian always scoffed at the very idea, deeming them below standard for Christian Grey and his family. Kate and I took Teddy and Ava to a place similar to the one we're headed for tonight last year and the kids had an absolute blast. They're both still way too young to be put off by inexpensive entertainment and they don't yet understand the level of wealth they were born into compared to the majority of other children they may come into contact with. If I have my way, Teddy never will be fully aware of just how wealthy his father is; we've managed to keep him from becoming a spoiled little brat and I intend to keep it that way.

Christian sent me an email this morning to let me know he would be wrapping up his business in Germany on Friday morning and to ask if I was still okay about him visiting for a couple days. I immediately replied, telling him Teddy and I would love to have him, though I didn't invite him to stay with us. He mentioned something while I was in Seattle about getting a hotel room while he was in town, and if he's still considering that as an option, I'm not going to fight it. It was one thing for me to stay in our home in Seattle last weekend—I'd lived there for years beforehand—but I'm uncertain whether it's a good idea for him to stay with us here at the new apartment.

Just as I'm tying Teddy's shoes, I hear a knock on the door and butterflies seem to fill my stomach with excitement and anxiety.

"Wait here, baby boy," I tell Teddy, standing up and heading for the door. When I open it, I find Thomas standing there wearing a simple outfit of khaki pants and sweater, and he's smiling widely.

"Hello," he says quietly, his eyes sparkling as he roves them over me. Suddenly I'm feeling very self-conscious. He pulls one hand from behind his back and produces a beautiful little bouquet of flowers. "I picked these up for you on the way. They're not much, but..." He shrugs, then smiles as I take them from him.

"They're beautiful," I tell him honestly. "Please come in." I step back to allow him entry in the apartment before closing the door and heading into the kitchen to place my flowers in a vase. When I go to rejoin him, I find him in the living room on the floor with Teddy as they watch some cartoon or another. I'm a little surprised that my son is talking freely with Thomas; he's usually very shy with strangers, men especially. I think it's yet another trait he's inherited from his father: suspicion of any man who seems at all eager to get to know me better. Though I seriously doubt Teddy understands why he does this, or that he does it for the same reasons as Christian.

It seems, though, Teddy has already taken quite the liking to Thomas, and I'm not certain whether this is a good thing or bad.

Well, of course it's a good thing, stupid girl! My subconscious is already rolling her eyes at me. You don't want a relationship with somebody your son hates, or that hates children!

That's true enough.

Teddy finally realizes I'm in the room and quickly twists around, beaming at me. "Mommy, look! Mr. Thomas gave me a car!"

I look at my son's left hand, and indeed he's holding some sort of little blue sports car. "Well, wasn't that nice of him!" I gush. "Did you say thank you?"

Teddy nods. "Yes, ma'am."

I'm rather moved that Thomas went to the trouble of buying my son a toy, whereas most men might scoff at the very idea. It isn't my son he's looking for a relationship with, after all. Shooting Thomas another smile, I reach for my jacket that's hanging over the back of a chair. "Well, are we ready?"

Dinner is surprisingly delicious. In a place like this, one would expect food that is of a lower quality than most other places, only tasty enough to get past a child's un-picky palate, but it seems this restaurant has worked to appeal to the tastes of parents as well as children. So while Thomas and I enjoy salads and chicken breasts, Teddy sits across from us eating two tiny cheeseburgers and french fries—the latter caused a moment of entertainment for both the waitress and Thomas when I failed to recall the British term for french fries is actually chips.

When he finishes his meal, Teddy is already asking to go play games. I agree and reach into my purse for money for him to get the little tokens he needs, but Thomas is one step ahead of me. I gape at the cup of tokens he produces from the floor. "When did you do that?" I ask slightly indignantly, but mostly amused.

Thomas shrugs. "I like to come prepared," he says flippantly as he hands the tokens to Teddy. "Have fun, little man!"

"Thanks!" Teddy is already halfway across the room as he says the word.

"Stay where I can see you!" I call to him, sitting back in my chair to gaze at Thomas. He's smirking. "That really wasn't necessary."

"Of course it was," Thomas replies. "I believe I was the one who asked you out to dinner, and by proxy, your son; it's the least I can do. Besides, this way we have a bit of time to chat privately."

I can't fault his logic.

The next hour or so passes enjoyably. Thomas and I are talking and laughing as though we've known each other for years as opposed to weeks. He's very eager to hear about my life growing up with my mom and Ray. I carefully skate across the third husband, but tell him about Bob. In turn, he tells me about his family, his siblings and parents, and the holidays they've taken all over the world together. Teddy eventually comes back to finish off his cheeseburger, then to drag us off to the games to help him win more tickets for prizes.

All in all, it's a wonderful evening, and I can't remember the last time I had so much fun. It occurs to me once or twice that it should be Christian here with us—Christian should be holding Teddy up by the waist as he throws a basketball in the hoop; Christian should be the one teaching Teddy to play Whack-a-Mole; Christian should be praising Teddy's skills at all the different videogames. It kills me that my son's father isn't here to share in our fun, but I remind myself it's by his own doing that he isn't.

Damn you, Christian, I think to myself, hastily wiping the couple of tears that fall from my eyes before Teddy or Thomas has a chance to see them.

By the time we call it a night, Teddy has won enough tickets to pick out several things from the little prize stand: a giant plastic slinky, a stuffed dragon, some sort of silly putty that makes interesting noises if you press it just right, and a pair of giant novelty sunglasses. Again, these are things Christian would scoff at—why would his son settle for such cheap toys when he can have the most expensive ones imaginable?

We arrive back at the apartment building and Teddy is fast asleep. I take his toys and Thomas offers to carry him up to the apartment—I don't protest. I get Teddy changed into his pajamas and tuck him in, kissing his little forehead before leaving the room to join Thomas, who is standing at the wall in the living room, gazing at a collection of photographs I've hung of my family. My favorite of the bunch is in the center and it was taken at Teddy's first birthday party. Christian and I are sitting on our back patio with our son sharing our laps, his face covered in birthday cake. All three of us are beaming, looking more carefree than I can ever remember us being.

"Handsome family you have there," Thomas comments.

I nod in response, heading towards the kitchen to make us some tea. "Yes, it is," I reply lightly, trying not to let my sadness at the old memories get the better of me. "That was a wonderful day."

I busy myself with making our tea and when I turn around, I find Thomas leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, looking at me thoughtfully. "What?" I ask, feeling a blush creeping up my neck.

He smiles, pushing himself off the wall. "Nothing," he says lightly. "Just I think I may have forgotten my manners this evening and failed to inform you that you look lovely."

Yup, definitely blushing. "Thank you," I say shyly, smiling back at him. "You don't look half bad yourself."

He snorts a laugh and rolls his eyes. "No need to lie. I doubt I'll ever live to be as good-looking as your husband." He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing at the photograph.

"He certainly has his charms," I agree wryly. "But as he's told me a number of times throughout our marriage, it's only a pretty face." I really don't want to talk about Christian right now...

"How did your meeting with your husband go, by the way?"

Damn it. Thomas seems to have other ideas.

I shrug, sipping my tea. "Could have been better, could have been worse," I say indifferently. "We had some very intense conversations, did a little bit of arguing, and then said our goodbyes." I don't intend for my tone to be as sharp as it sounds, but this really isn't something I want to talk about, especially not on a first date. If that is what this is...

"Sorry," he says contritely. "My morbid curiosity got the better of me, I suppose."

I force a smile, showing no hard feelings. "Don't worry about it," I tell him quietly, gesturing for him to head for the couch. "Suffice it to say, it was a very long, trying weekend that didn't solve much of anything." Thomas nods thoughtfully into his cup of tea. I take a deep breath, finding myself with the unexplainable need to share a bit more. "He's actually coming to visit this weekend."

Thomas looks up at me, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Oh?" he asks politely.

I nod. "He's got some business in Germany and he asked if it would be all right to make a stop here before he heads back to Seattle," I elaborate. "It's good, though, that Teddy has opportunity to see him. This hasn't been easy on him."

"I can imagine," Thomas says sympathetically. "Though if I may ask something I've wondered... Why hasn't Christian made an effort to see the two of you before now? Seems to me a man of his means should have no trouble chasing after his family. Hell, I'd be on the first plane after you, begging you on bended knee for forgiveness."

There's the blushing again. You'd think I'd grow out of this after so long of living in Christian Grey, Dominant Extraordinaire's twisted and depraved world. "I've wondered that myself," I admit. "I think it was a combination of him knowing how incredibly angry I was with him, not believing that I had no intention to come back to him after a week or two, and not knowing how to fix things in a way that wouldn't have me telling him it was over for good and that I didn't want to see him ever again. I don't think he wanted to risk losing his son for good, not that I ever would have used Teddy as a pawn like that." I shrug. "Add it to the list of a thousand things we need to work through."

After that, Thomas thankfully changes the subject to work. We chat until we realize it's going on midnight and we're both surprised at how quickly the time's gone by. I take our teacups, both still partially full, cold, and ignored while we talked, into the kitchen and walk Thomas to the door where we stand awkwardly for a few minutes.

"Well, I had a lovely time with you and your son," Thomas says, smiling again, though this time he takes a step closer to me.

"We had a lovely time as well," I reply, my breath catching in my throat as I realize what's probably coming very soon. "Next time, we'll have to go out without the little intruder."

Thomas smiles at that. "Next time?" he asks, looking slightly smug.

I shrug. "That is if you're not put off by my drama-filled life."

"Trust me, I've dealt with worse," he says wearily. "Anyway, no matter the drama, you're pretty enough to overshadow it."

"Gee, thanks," I say with a smirk.

"I should head out," he tells me with the utmost reluctance. "I'll see you at work tomorrow, I suppose."

I nod shyly, biting my lip. My stomach flops when his eyes dart down to it and darken slightly—apparently it's not just a Christian thing, as I believed for so long... "Tomorrow," I whisper. I know what's coming and I'm not sure if I want it to happen or not. In the end it seems I wasted too much time debating the pros and cons, leaving Thomas to make the decision for the both of us: I feel his soft, hesitant lips against mine and suck in a sharp breath of surprise at how different it feels. Good different, I think, though I'm all too aware that these are not Christian's lips. As I finally return the kiss, I realize Thomas is very nearly as skilled a kisser as my husband, and I feel myself getting lost in the sensation. Before I know it, I'm pressed up against the wall, with Thomas holding me in place and it feels fucking marvelous.

When he grinds his hips into mine, apparently on instinct, I gasp again and pull away from his lips, forcing him to stop and meet my eyes. His are wide and lustful and confused. "I'm sorry," he whispers against my lips, immediately releasing me from his hold and taking several steps back. "I didn't mean to... I mean, I just..." He shakes his head, apparently unable to come up with the correct phrasing for what he's trying to say. "You seem to have one hell of an effect on me, Anastasia."

"It's okay," I respond breathlessly. "If I'd been in any other situation than the one I'm currently in, I probably wouldn't have stopped you, but considering... everything..."

He smiles kindly. "I understand, Ana. No hard feelings. If this is something we both want, we need to ease into it. And I certainly wouldn't consider something like this under normal circumstances with your son present."

I blink at him in confusion before remembering Teddy is sleeping not all that far from where we're currently standing. Brilliant, says my subconscious, clapping at me slowly and sarcastically. Mother of the Year for that one...

I mentally give her the finger then look back at Thomas. "Right. Well, I should get some sleep."

"Of course." Thomas hesitates for a second before leaning in to place a soft, lingering kiss on my lips. "Good night, Anastasia."

He opens the door, gives me one more smile, and leaves. And though I'm not entirely certain why, as I get into bed I'm feeling intensely guilty.

The next couple days fly by pretty quickly. On the morning following our date—it only officially became a date after the kiss—Thomas and I have taken to subtly flirting in the office and sending each other little smiles whenever our eyes catch. It's surprisingly fun and I can't help but be reminded of the early days with Christian when we filled our otherwise mundane days with emails full of banter and flirtation. I'm doing my very best not to compare Thomas to Christian so much, but when your level experience with men is as low as mine, it's inevitable.

Friday afternoon arrives and I find myself full of nerves again. Thomas notices of course and takes my shortness with him with a grain of salt; he knows what's coming this evening and he knows how anxious I am. I leave work promptly at four o'clock, just enough time to pick Teddy up from the after school daycare, which has very quickly become a lifesaver, and rush to get my son. Christian's email this morning said he would be touching down in London just after six and would drop by the apartment soon after, which gives me time to get us home, get myself showered, and pick up a little around the apartment before his arrival. And of course I'll have time to primp myself.

"Mom!"

I feel myself smiling as I spot my boy out on the playground. He's just jumped from his swing at its highest point and landed expertly on his feet, and now he's running towards me. "Hey, baby boy!" I greet him, reaching down to pull him into my arms. "Did you have a good day?"

Immediately Teddy launches into an account of his school day, not leaving a single detail out. I give a wave to the teacher to let her know I'm taking Teddy home and she waves back. We pick up his schoolbag and start off on the walk home. Or at least we intended to. It only takes me a few moments to notice a group of mothers are staring at something as they pass it by to pick up their own children and my curiosity gets the better of me.

"You have got to be kidding me," I mutter to myself, finding the object of their interest. There is a black SUV parked at the curb in front of the school, and leaning against that black SUV is none other than Christian Grey dressed in his business best complete with suit jacket, crisp white shirt, pants that hang off his hips in that way, and a very familiar tie.

"Daddy!" Teddy drops his schoolbag and my hand immediately, and bolts across the schoolyard towards his father. Completely oblivious to the women stealing admiring glances at him—or at least expertly ignoring them—Christian pulls his hands from his pockets and drops to one knee in order to intercept his son. By the time I reach them, the admiring glances directed at Christian have turned into jealous glares directed at me. Over the years, I've grown used to these glares and have learned to block them out.

Christian stands with Teddy in his arms and finds me, an uncertain smile on his face. "Hello, Ana," he says.

"Christian." I'm fighting a smile and he damn well knows it, judging by the sparkling in his eyes. "We weren't expecting you for another couple hours."

He shrugs dismissively. "Plane was a little faster than we anticipated," he says flippantly.

"Right." I roll my eyes as Christian opens the back door of the SUV for me. I slide in first, depositing Teddy's backpack on the floor, then glance reflexively into the front seat where Taylor is riding passenger. "Hi, Jason."

"Mrs. Grey," he says, his lips twitching.

Teddy gets in beside me and I buckle him into the booster seat I'm only slightly surprised to see, followed by Christian, who closes the door behind him. I find myself unable to tear my eyes from my husband as he talks animatedly with Teddy, and the same feeling of guilt that I had the other night after Thomas left returns, only now I know why I feel it so strongly. Christian may have been unfaithful to our marriage, but I always remained true to him, never even considering stepping out to be with another man. And though we're currently separated and I mentioned to Christian that I'd met somebody and nothing ever went past the kiss, I feel like I've broken some sort of trust between us.

Maybe, but he did it first.

"Are you okay, Ana?" Christian asks, breaking through my thoughts.

I look over at him immediately, trying to wash away the guilty expression on my face. "Yes, fine. Just a little tired," I respond a little too hastily.

He quickly adopts a slightly suspicious expression, but doesn't push the subject any further.

"How was Germany?" I'm struggling to keep things light between us and I never realized how difficult this might be.

Knowing my husband as well as I do, it doesn't take much for me to pinpoint the sudden yet brief panic that flashes through his eyes or the acute nervousness on his face, though I can't imagine what might have caused his. "It went well," Christian responded, his eyes darting away from me. "I was able to close my deal."

"Good," I say faintly. Great, now we're lying to each other. My mind is starting to run through every possible worst-case scenario and every single one of them fills me with dread.

When we arrive at the apartment building, I glance over at Christian, whose eyebrows have risen as he observes the different security features of the garage. Whether it's in approval or not, I'm not entirely sure; then again, I don't really care. It's a perfectly safe building for Teddy and me, even though Mr. Overprotective undoubtedly believes nothing is ever safe enough. I give the driver the key code to get into the garage and we proceed. The car lets Teddy, Christian, and me off at the elevator, and I wait for Christian to have some sort of brief, whispered conversation with Taylor, during which Christian's eyes dart to me uncertainly so many times I lose count. He joins us, looking nervous again, and gestures for me to lead the way into the building.

We're inside the apartment and Teddy is grasping his father's hand, dragging him towards his bedroom to show off his toys. Christian throws a small, apologetic smile at me as they disappear down the hall. I'll leave them be for now; I really need to get control of my emotions. It certainly wouldn't do any of us any good for me to bumble around Christian all weekend. I fully intend to tell him about my date with Thomas, but I want to do it on my own terms, preferably without ruining the entire weekend for my son.

The boys eventually emerge and I see a strange expression on Christian's face. I'm not entirely sure how to identify it—it's wary and sad and confused and angry all rolled up into one, and it's directed at me. I shake my head, unwilling to get into an argument with him right now about whatever it is I've seem to done without having actually done anything.

Christian takes us out to dinner that night to the most expensive place he can find, it seems. I'm in a dress, Teddy is in a little suit and tie that matches his father's exactly, and for a little while, we're a family again. We talk, we laugh, we tease. Christian is smiling more than I've seen him smile in years and I've forgotten how much I love that smile. It's getting late, though, and by the time dessert is brought to our table, Teddy is curled up in his chair asleep, leaving Christian and me to share the chocolate mousse cake he ordered.

"How are things?" Christian asks, cutting a small piece of the cake with his fork.

"Good," I respond lightly. "Better than good some days."

A pained expression crosses his face before he shuts it down, leaving only his hardened, I'm-in-control-always expression. I hate that expression... "Glad to hear it," he says briskly, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "And your job? I hope that's going well for you."

The way he asks the question makes me a little suspicious, like he knows exactly where I went Wednesday night and with whom. I shake this off as paranoia. Even if he does know, it doesn't really matter; it's not as though I was planning to keep it from him. "Yes, work is going well," I finally answer quietly, tasting a bit of the cake. It really is delicious and though I'd only started eating it to keep myself occupied, I go back for more. It's not until after I let out a quiet groan of appreciation and lick my lips that I realize Christian isn't eating the cake anymore. Instead, he's staring at me from his side of the table with a hungry look in his eyes. I blush and drop my fork to the plate before taking up my own napkin. I glance at our son. "We should probably get him to his own bed..."

Christian seems to shake himself and nods his agreement. He raises a hand to summon the waiter for the bill and pays without the slightest bit of attention at the total of our meals. I know better than to sneak a glance—I probably don't want to know how much he spent on this outing...

He stands to help me from my chair and into my jacket, and I pretend not to notice how he lets his fingers linger against my neck after he pretends to adjust the collar, then gathers Teddy into his arms. The drive home is long and silent. I have no idea what Christian's intentions might be, whether he expects to stay with us or if he is going to a hotel.

Not until Teddy is tucked into his bed and Christian has given him a kiss on the forehead do I get the nerve to ask. As always, though, Christian is two steps ahead of me. We're standing in front of the door, in almost the exact position Thomas and I were in the other night before our kiss, looking at each other in the exact same way. Christian is clearly torn. "I, um, have a reservation at a hotel," he tells me reluctantly, running his hands through his hair. "I wasn't sure what you wanted to do as far as where I stay, but I was hoping we could have a chance to talk. Tonight, preferably, but I don't want to push you... I just..."

I almost smile at the thought that I can't recall the last time I heard Christian Grey babble, because that is exactly what he's doing. And just the fact that he made reservations elsewhere without assuming I would let him stay here is a hell of a step for him. "I'd like us to talk, too," I say, putting him out of his misery. "Stay? At least for tonight... I've got a guest bedroom..."

Christian looks as though he can't believe his luck. "Really?" he asks disbelievingly.

I smile. "Yes, really. I think Teddy would object in the morning if you weren't here for breakfast."

"And what about you?" he asks in slightly huskier voice, taking an almost minute step closer to me. "Would you object?"

Of course I realize immediately what he's doing and take a pointed step back to resume the distance between us and remind Christian of our situation as I nod. His face falls slightly but he recovers quickly. "Great. I'll call Taylor and have him bring my bags up."

"Okay," I reply. "I'm going to go get out of this dress and into something more comfortable." I say the words before I know what it is I'm saying, and as I turn to apologize, I hear the slight growl he admits in response to my words, and has that look in his eyes, and I know I need to keep walking or neither of us will be able to maintain our control for much longer. I change quickly and return to the living room to find Christian has also changed from his suit to a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. In front of him is a bottle of wine that looks chilled and two glasses.

"I know you didn't find that in my kitchen..." I tease, jolting him out of his thoughts.

He snaps his head up and looks me up and down with his eyes, swallowing heavily. "No," he confirmed. "Taylor picked it up for me and brought it with my luggage. I hope you don't mind, but I found the guest room and dropped my things off in there."

"No, that's fine." I cross the room to sit beside him on the couch, careful to maintain my distance. "So what did you want to talk about?"

Christian sighs heavily, glancing over his shoulder at the balcony. "Would you like to go out there?"

I think I'm being manipulated slightly in my own apartment, but I can see the look of nerves on his face and decide to go along with it this time. I lead the way to the balcony, grabbing a jacket on the way, and we settle ourselves on deck chairs while Christian pours each of us a glass of wine. I accept mine with a smile of thanks and lean back in my chair to stare out over the view. I've been around Christian long enough to know when he is trying to find the words to say something, and I keep my mouth shut while I wait.

"Something happened while I was in Germany," he begins quietly. I blink rapidly at his words, glancing briefly over at him through the dark, but he's not looking at me; instead he's also looking at the London view. "On my first night there, I was in my room at three in the morning. I couldn't sleep, so I was catching up on some work. There was a knock on the door and I wasn't expecting anybody so it took me a few moments to actually get around to answering it." I'm staring at him now, my heart beating, though I don't know why. He sighs more heavily, turning towards me and placing his wine glass on the table between us. "Ana, Lucy showed up at my hotel room."

Somehow I manage to set my own glass beside his rather than drop it on the ground in surprise or throw it at him. My heart's stopped beating, I can feel my life ripping apart again just like it did the night I watched my husband having sex on camera with the very woman we are currently discussing. "Did you invite her in?" I have no idea why this is my first question, but I didn't get a say in which words fell from my mouth.

I see Christian nod through the dark, and immediately I'm on my feet, headed towards the bathroom to rid my stomach of everything I've eaten today. Christian is talking again, grasping at my hand, but I pull it away. The only thing going through my mind right now is the fact that after everything he's said and done in the last week to convince me to take him back, his whore shows up at his hotel room and he fucking invites her in! Now he's telling me about it.

"Ana, wait!" Christian says urgently, finally getting a good grasp on my wrist.

I turn around, poised to slap him to get his hands off me, but he releases me, holding his hands up to shoulder height in a surrender gesture. "You fucking asshole, Christian!" I hiss at him.

"Ana, listen to me," he implores, begging me. "I didn't invite her in for the reasons you think. Please let me explain."

"You have two fucking minutes, Grey," I tell him through clenched teeth, pushing past him to get back to my seat. I reach for my wine and gulp it down in two swallows. "Start talking."

Christian walks over a little more slowly and sits on the edge of his chair, his elbows resting on his knees. "Ana, I didn't invite her out to Germany. I have no idea how she even fucking knew I was there. The only reason I invited her into my room was that it was three in the morning and I didn't want her making a scene in the hallway."

"And you're going to try and convince me Sawyer and Taylor weren't close enough to take care of any scene she might make?" I ask dubiously.

Christian sighs. "Look, I know you won't understand this, and honestly, I don't really understand it myself, but I needed to do this myself. This wasn't something I wanted Taylor handling, not yet at least."

"Needed to do what?" I ask tiredly.

"To end it, once and for all."

My brow furrows. "Christian, you told me you ended it two months after I left you."

He nods. "Yes, but clearly she hasn't gotten the message," he says, his frustration evident. "All her calls and texts and emails and all that shit stopped, and I assumed it was done. Then she shows up in my room." I nod, gesturing for him to continue. "So she shows up, dressed to the fucking nines, and she's got this little smug smile on her face like she just won the fucking lottery—"

"Christian, I don't need that kind of detail," I snap.

He meets my eyes, his own full of regret. "Yes, you do," he tells me. "I need to tell you this, Ana, please, just let me."

I nod once, tightly.

He sighs in relief. "I knew exactly what she was expecting to happen and I knew the moment I saw her she wasn't going to get it. So I asked her what she wanted. She responded by trying to kiss me. I didn't let her, I pushed her away. I asked her again what she wanted. She told me she wanted me. I told her it wasn't going to happen. She got upset, wanted to know why, since she knew you had moved. I told her it's because I want my wife back. I didn't want her, Ana. I want you. I let her scream and yell and cry for a few minutes, and eventually, I did call Taylor, because I couldn't get her to leave and all I wanted was to sleep. That was the end of it. No more than ten painfully long minutes on the very outside. I didn't touch her except to push her away from me."

He's so proud of this. "So you finally did what you should have done from the very beginning," I say bitterly. "Congratulations, Christian."

His face falls; apparently this wasn't the reaction he was expecting. "Ana, I'm trying," he says pleadingly. "What do I have to do?"

"I don't know, Christian," I say honestly, leaning back in my chair. "I'm glad you didn't touch her except to push her away, but it doesn't change what the two of you were doing for five months. And how the fuck did she know where you were to begin with?"

His brow furrowed as he thought about the question. "I don't know. That was the first thing Taylor and I asked hotel security. The front desk says she just walked right in like she was a guest or the guest of a guest, and no one thought to stop her. Security video shows her going straight to the elevator, hitting the number for my floor, and walking to my room like she fucking owned the place."

"And you don't think that's a little odd?" I demand incredulously. For a man who treats his family's security with the highest regard, he's certainly not bothering to look out for himself.

"Of course I think it's odd, Ana," he replies wearily. "I'm having it looked into. As well as how she knows you moved. This is why I'm always insisting on security going with you."

"Yeah, your exes seem to always pose the most threat, don't they, Christian," I respond. I know he's close to his breaking point—I can tell by the protruding vein in his neck—but I don't back down. Maybe I need a fight right now... "That's how it's been from the very fucking beginning—Elena, Leila, now Lucy. When's it going to stop, Christian?"

His jaw tightens and I brace myself for the explosion that never comes. Instead he takes a deep breath, pours each of us a refill on the wine, then hands me my glass. I take it reflexively. "When were you going to tell me about Thomas, Ana?" he asks in a deathly quiet voice.

I choke on my wine. How does he always turn the tables...?

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. I'd forgotten how fired up people got over this story. Though I did consider changing up the story, but after trying and failing to work it out, I've decided to keep the story as is. I realize a lot of people want to see Ana with someone else, but it just wasn't fitting in to this story for me. I hope everyone will continue to read!