I'm gaping at my husband through the sliding glass door as he slips his phone back into his pocket.
"Ana," he begins quietly, striding over to open the door and stepping aside for me to join him on the patio. I do so reluctantly and he closes the door behind us. "Ana, it's not what you think."
"Not what I think," I repeat, mostly to myself as thousands of possibilities run through my mind. "And what is it I'm thinking, Christian?"
He sighs and runs his hands through his hair. "You think I'm still in contact with Elena, still seeing her, even though I told you I haven't done so in months."
"Well, aren't you fucking mind reader," I spit at him. "What are you going to tell me next, Christian? That you lied about sending Lucy away the other night? That the two of you spent hours fucking in every position your warped brain could come up with?"
"No!" he says loudly, indignantly. "Ana, I'll show you the fucking security cameras from the hotel. Ask Taylor if you don't believe me! I did not fuck Lucy that night!"
"Why are you talking to Elena Lincoln, Christian?" I ask wearily, already tiring of this argument.
He backs away to lean against the railing, crossing his arms and his feet. "I told you already that she was trying to get me to invest in her new beauty salon chain. Well, I put in a sizable investment with the agreement that I am a silent, absent partner and that I'm not to be contacted for anything related to the business, no matter what it is. The first salon was supposed to open this week, but there've been a few legal complications and she's been trying to get a hold of me for advice. I told her I'd see what my lawyers could do to fix the problems, since hers are fucking useless. She told me she would leave it to me and them to sort it. Well, she didn't. She pushed things to the point that she's about to lose her beautician license or whatever it is you need to run a salon. So now in order to not lose the money I invested, I've got to clean up her messes again."
I'm not sure if this is supposed to make me forgive him. I'm not sure if this is supposed to make me pity the Bitch Troll. And I'm not sure if I'm even supposed to believe it. In the end, I decide I do believe it, despite my thoughts that my husband is the biggest idiot to walk the face of the planet for giving Elena Lincoln even a penny. "How much did you give her?" I ask cautiously, realizing after asking the question I probably don't want to know the answer. Call it morbid curiosity.
Christian gives me a look of utmost reluctance. "Three million," he finally answers, wincing in preparation for my reaction.
My jaw falls open and I put my hand on the wall to keep me upright. "Three million?" I cry in shock. "Why the fuck would you give that woman three million dollars?"
He shrugs in answer. "I don't know, Ana. I wasn't thinking clearly. It was back when you and I were fighting all the time."
"Oh no, don't you dare try to blame our fighting for this, Christian Grey," I say in a deathly quiet voice. "Everything you've done, you've blamed it on that. Man up for a change, Christian. You had a moment of weakness, you felt sorry for her, whatever. But do not blame the status of our relationship."
He looks at me with contrition. "I'm sorry," he says. "You're right. Look, Ana, why I did it isn't the point. She's out. Every time I try to make amends and try to reestablish our business relationship for the sake of old times, she fucks me over. She's doing it again now. She has no idea what the fuck she's doing, and the only things she's accomplished so far is losing my money. The bitch can rot for all I care. As far as the business side, I'll merge it with what's left of Esclava and call it done. At this point, I don't fucking care about the money."
My eyebrows rise again. I've always known Christian isn't exactly thrifty with his money, but three million dollars... "Whatever," I say faintly. I just don't have the energy to argue with him tonight. "Come on, Teddy's waiting for us."
He's shocked himself that I've so quickly dropped the subject when in the past arguments about Elena could last for days. "Right, of course..." he says quickly, eagerly following me inside.
Teddy's picked his movie, I've made us some popcorn, and the three of us huddle down on the blankets, giggling at the Disney movie. Teddy falls asleep halfway through and Christian switches off the television, lying down on his side facing me and our son, who's curled himself into my body. He's got that look of longing on his face again and I recall the incident at the zoo.
"Christian?" I whisper into the dark.
"Yes, Ana?" he whispers back.
I hesitate, desperately hoping this conversation won't wake our sleeping son. Then again, a bomb could go off in his bedroom closet and he'd probably do nothing more than turn his little head away from the noise. "You know I have no intention of ever keeping Teddy from you, don't you?" I finally ask.
He doesn't answer, but I know his face is full of fear of that very concept.
"Christian, whether you and I are together or apart, Teddy is still your son and you're still his father, and nothing will ever change that. I will never deny you the chance to see him, nor will I deny him. The two of you..." I smile fondly down at my son's scruffy head. "You two are so wonderful together and I love seeing the two of you play. Especially after all that talk from you about what kind of father you could be due to your past. You're an amazingly wonderful father, Christian Grey, and come hell or high water, you will not lose your son. Do you understand me?"
I try to force my eyes to adjust to see him better, but it's too dark. I do hear him let out a shaky sigh of what I believe to be relief. "Thank you," he breathes through the darkness.
That's the last we speak to one another before drifting off to sleep.
I wake in the morning to giggling. It takes me a few minute to realize where I am, why I'm there, and why my fucking back hurts the way it does. My eyes open to find Ana and Teddy have gotten out of our little makeshift bed and I smile to myself. I slept with my wife last night. Maybe not in the way I've hoped to sleep with her—the way that involves very little actual sleep—but a man has to take the small victories when he can.
Pushing myself up onto my elbows, I wince as my lower back muscles protest even the slightest movement. I'm too fucking old to be sleeping on the floor... Ana and Teddy are in the kitchen, and by the looks of it, Ana is returning the favor of making her breakfast yesterday. I wasn't expecting her to reciprocate, but I have to admit the idea of my wife cooking my breakfast is a very appealing concept. As carefully and quietly as I can, I stand and make my way to the kitchen, resting my shoulder on the doorframe, just watching them.
Teddy has a dining chair backed up against the kitchen counter to stand on while Ana helps him scramble eggs. She turns away briefly towards the cupboard beside the fridge for a stack of plates and I can't hold back the longing groan I emit as she stretches and her pajama shirt rides up her back, exposing about an inch or two of her perfect alabaster skin. Jumping at the sound, Ana nearly drops the plates and I rush over to save her and them.
When I look down at her again, she's blushing and I know she knows what I was groaning about. I smirk at her and take the plates to the table. Over a delicious breakfast, I ask Ana and Teddy what they want to do today. Teddy quickly suggests the park and I look to Ana for her thoughts. She's smiling fondly at Teddy; I think I know her answer.
"Sure, baby boy," I tell him. "We can go to the park."
He beams at me and starts wolfing down his breakfast, urging his mother and me to do the same so we can get a move on. Ana finally convinces him to calm down enough to explain it's still too early in the morning for the park, because it's cold. Teddy compromises when she suggests going around lunchtime so we can all have a picnic.
"Well done, Mrs. Grey," I mutter, impressed at her skills of staving off what would have been an impressive tantrum from our son.
She snorts a laugh. "Just because you give in to his every demand it doesn't mean the rest of us do the same, Christian," she shoots at me playfully.
I look at her, feigning hurt feelings. "Every demand?" I ask her, standing up to help her with the dishes.
"Yes, every demand," she replies. "Honestly, Christian, you don't have to give him everything he wants just because he wants it."
I grin at her. "Of course I do," I tell her huskily, unconsciously closing much of the distance between myself and my wife. She backs up until she hits the kitchen counter and I keep walking until we're toe-to-toe. "I've told you before, Anastasia," my neck begins to bend, "I will give my family everything they want," Ana's eyes are half-closed, her lips parted, "when they want it," our breathing is becoming erratic, "however they want it." My lips are a fraction away from hers when I realize what we're doing and that she's not stopping me, that she wants this as much as I do. But just as I feel her lips touch mine, Teddy is running back into the room, and we fly apart, me backing up until I've hit the counter opposite my wife.
Her eyes are wide, she's panting, and heat is rising into her cheeks. I imagine I look very similar, but it's not until Ana's eyes dart down below my waist that I realize just how badly I wanted that kiss. "Fuck," I hiss, quickly leaving the room before my son sees my erection.
After the coldest shower I've had in years, I return to the living room where Ana and Teddy are folding up the blankets we used last night. Ana glances up at me, blushing again, and gives me a tight smile that I can't quite muster in return. The rest of the morning is tense and awkward between us. Every time I look at her, she's looking right back at me, but quickly diverts her gaze. I want to talk to her, to apologize for what happened in the kitchen even though I can't honestly say I actually regret it. The only thing I regretted at the time was my son's poor sense of timing.
It's not until we're getting ready to head for the park that I finally have a moment alone with my wife. Teddy's off in his room getting dressed and I have a feeling Ana has been using him as a shield between us all morning long. She looks around in slight panic when she realizes I'm the only one in the room with her.
"Ana, about this morning..." I speak quickly knowing that at any moment Teddy will come breezing back. "I'm sorry. I got caught up in the moment, and..." I trail off as she shakes her head.
"Christian, it's fine," she says quietly, meeting my gaze for the first time since the almost-kiss. "It's not as though I was stopping you, is it?" She sighs in amusement and something else I can't quite put a finger on then her expression turns serious again. "Just... Don't expect us to pick up where we left off. Okay?"
It's anything but okay, but I nod my agreement nonetheless, swallowing my disappointment. And really, what did I expect? That she was going to let me fuck her right there in the kitchen? That after all the pain I've caused her she'd let me back in that easily? Especially considering our most recent argument from last night about Elena. Which reminds me...
I quickly fire off several emails in regards to Elena's new salon chain, my investment in it, and how I want this handled—preferably as quickly as possible... I lucked out last night with Ana dropping the argument the way she did, but I need to be prepared for if it pops up again, because I know it will pop up again. My last email is sent to Elena, informing her that I'm out, that her business endeavors are only dragging me down, and that I want in no way to be involved or even associated with her for the rest of my life. I'm fully prepared for her to beg me to reconsider, which is why I'm gifting her that $3 million with wishes of never hearing from her again. Call it a bribe if you will, but the only woman I want in my life right now is my wife and I am getting desperate, especially after that almost-kiss...
Despite how I feel about leaving Ana and Teddy, come Monday evening, I will be on the way back to Seattle. Personally, I think Ana and I have made a lot of progress this weekend, but I also think distance from the situation is best for the time being. We both need time to think about what it is we want and if we can even get that again. I have no intentions of giving up on her and I will continue to make every effort possible to remain in her life.
Lunch at the park is wonderfully simple. Ana and I are lounged on the blue checkered blanket we brought watching as Teddy runs wild around the playground. It's going to kill me reminding him that I'm leaving tomorrow. He's so happy right now and I know it's because Ana and I are here together and getting along. I can already imagine his little face crumbling, his little lip trembling, and his eyes filling with tears. After a month of having him pretty much to myself, then this weekend, it's going to be rough going back to life without him there every day.
I glance at Ana, finding her eyes following Teddy's progress as well. She's got a sad expression on her face and I know she's probably thinking along the same lines I am. She senses my stare—she always does—and turns to meet my eyes, a corner of her mouth lifting slightly in an attempt of a smile. "When will we see you again?" she asks in a whisper.
My breath catches in my throat. She didn't ask when Teddy would see me again; she said we. I can't help but take that as a sign that we're on our way back to each other. "I don't know," I respond quietly. "When I get back home, I'm going to take a look at my schedule and see if I can't move some things around. Shall we say next month for now?" I watch her face closely and see the flicker of disappointment cross her face. Inwardly, I'm punching a fist into the air.
"A month," she agrees, turning back to Teddy.
I hesitate, wondering if I'll be pushing my luck. "Ana, I don't know if you've thought this far ahead or not, but unless you have other plans, I'd like to see you and Teddy for Thanksgiving and Christmas. If you two can't come to Seattle, I'll happily come here; I just don't want to spend the holidays alone."
She looks at me evenly and for the briefest moments, I think I've pushed her too far too quickly. My heart starts beating again when her shy smile appears. "I'd like that," she tells me. "How about we do Thanksgiving in Seattle, then if your schedule permits, you can come here for Christmas?"
I'm grinning like an idiot. "Perfect. As for my schedule permitting me... Baby, I'm the fucking CEO, if my schedule doesn't permit it, I have no problem cancelling whatever I have planned. Especially if it means I get to spend time with my family."
And with that, I'm already feeling a little better about leaving Ana and Teddy here in London on their own. I still don't exactly like the idea and I wish I could convince her to come home with me, but at least we've managed to arrange times for us to be together again.
It's not until early evening that we call Teddy back to us and decide to head back to the apartment. We've spent most of the day chasing him around the playground, teaching him how to skip rocks in the water, and just generally enjoying each other's company, and I can't remember the last time I felt this good and relaxed. I know Ana feels the same and I am beyond relieved. It feels like us again, like we did at the beginning when we first became parents and were so focused on our son and his happiness that nothing else mattered.
This is how it should always be...
We spend the rest of the evening together. Christian's phone is somewhere in his room and I haven't seen him touch it in hours—a first. I haven't brought up Elena again and I really don't want to. I want to trust that Christian will finally take care of her once and for all and then rid our lives of her. As cruel as it is to admit it, I'm using this as a test to see just how determined he is to get me back. Over the years, I've learned my own little tricks of finding things out and I will employ every last one to ensure he's burned every possible bridge to Elena Lincoln.
As pissed off I am that he's even entertained the idea of rebuilding his business relationship with the Bitch Troll, I really need to learn to let things go. We've already had it out over her more times that I can count and it's exhausting. So as much as I want to slap him for this, I'm taking John Flynn's advice from a few years ago and giving him the benefit of the doubt.
"Teddy's down."
I snap my head up from where I've been staring at the floor to find Christian reentering the living room. Together we've gone through Teddy's normal bedtime routine of bath, story, and tuck in. I left the boys alone for a few minutes to give Christian some private time with his son to explain he was going back to Seattle, but would be seeing us again as soon as he could. The sad part is that I know the only thing that stuck in his mind is that Daddy's leaving again.
"Good," I say with a smile. "Thank you."
He nods, standing awkwardly as though he doesn't know whether he's allowed to approach me or not. Eventually he decides it's okay and sits down beside me, still keeping distance between us. I know there's something on his mind, something bothering him, but I don't push him into conversation. He needs to get his thoughts in order if we're to have a productive discussion about everything happening between us, so I wait as patiently as I can manage.
"Ana?" he says quietly.
I look over at him and he's looking at his shoes, his brow furrowed. "Yes, Christian?"
He sighs heavily before finally meeting my gaze. My breath catches in my chest at the haunted look in his eyes and I wonder what could have possibly brought this on. "That night," he begins slowly, reluctantly, "you saw that video. You told me you never believed that you were enough for me." My eyes close at the memory, and I know exactly where he's going with this. "Do you really believe that?"
I nod. "Yes," I whisper. "How could I not? Christian, I watched that entire video. I saw how you two were together. I watched her touching you in the places you've only allowed me to touch. And I saw how much you were enjoying it." He's hanging on my every word right now. "That's when I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I wasn't enough anymore. During the early days of our relationship, when you first started allowing me to touch your chest and your back and your scars, I felt like we had something incredibly special. You were letting me do something no one else ever had, including your family. That night, watching her..." I trail off, trying to keep from crying; I need to tell him this. I can see his hand inching a little towards mine, but I can't handle his comfort right now, so I lean away from him a little farther and he retracts his hand. "Watching her touching you in that way shattered everything for me. If you could let another woman touch you, then what was left for us? You didn't need me anymore. She probably went willingly into the playroom with you—whether she did or not, I don't really fucking care; it's not the point," I add sharply when he opens his mouth to speak. "You told me yourself you thought you were in love with her at one point, and even if you say it wasn't real or it was an illusion... Christian, that tells me a lot about the status of our marriage. I knew that night that if I hadn't seen that video, if I hadn't confronted you about it, eventually you would have come home and ended our marriage to be with her.
"It would have killed me, Christian. It nearly killed me watching that video. I never wanted to lose you. I never wanted to stop loving you and even if we divorced and I was forced to watch you with her on your arm, I don't think I would ever be able to stop loving you. I think that's what makes all of this so difficult. If I was able to hate you, even a little, I could get through this. But I can't, no matter how hard I try. Even after everything you've told me about you and Lucy and everything with Elena... I can't hate you."
He looks as though he's being tortured by my words and I think he's finally starting to understand what I'm feeling. "I don't know what to say," he says quietly, his voice cracking.
I give him a half-shrug. "I don't think there is anything to say right now," I admit.
"Is there any possibility that you'll ever be able to forgive me?" he begs. "I know I don't deserve it, but if there is even the slightest chance, please tell me."
"I want to say yes," I tell him honestly. "The more we talk about this the easier it's becoming to think about forgiving you, but forgiveness won't mean we're together, Christian. We still have so much to work through, both of us. Together."
"But we are working on it, right?" he ventures hesitantly.
I smile at him slightly. "We're starting to," I tell him, watching his shoulders relax a little.
"Good," he breathes.
I want to reassure him somehow, but I really don't know how. Nor do I know why I'm the one with the need to do the reassuring; shouldn't he be telling me how much he loves me and needs me and that I'm the only one he wants for the rest of his life? Is it a good sign or a bad one that he's not doing this? Has he finally figured out that words aren't going to make me fall back into his arms the way they once had?
I want this visit to end on a good note, not with the both of us lost in our misery. It takes a few minutes, but I watch as he takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and when he next looks at me, his eyes are hiding all his emotions and he's even got a smile on his face, as brittle as it seems at the moment.
"Ana, I will find a way to prove to you that you are everything I have ever wanted and more," he tells me. "Whether you believe it or not right now doesn't matter. I'll believe it enough for both of us."
Of all the things he's said to me over the last few weeks, this is the one that's probably meant the most. He's not trying to convince me to believe him or begging me to change my mind and come home with him tomorrow. And even though I am having trouble believing his words, I do believe he will put all of his energy and determination into proving to me what our relationship means to him.
I'm speechless right now, but I don't think he is expecting me to say anything to him. For that, I'm grateful. After everything that's happened, I fear that if I try to speak I'll start sobbing and become an incoherent mess.
I don't know how long we're sitting on the couch together, but when I feel pressure against my fingers, I look down to find his hand wrapped around them. I have no idea how long we've been like that; I look up at him in question to find him also staring at our hands uncertainly. Which of us initiated it? And why does it even matter?
Christian's hand pulls away from mine reluctantly and it looks as though it's causing him pain. "We should probably get some sleep," he says quietly. "It's been a long weekend."
I nod and we stand facing one another. I know what I want to happen right now: I want the kiss we nearly shared this morning. Nervously, I step forward, registering his wide eyes as he wonders whether he should step back or not. Biting my lip briefly, I reach up and cup his cheek in my hand and watch the shiver that shoots through his body, into mine. Our eyes close at almost the same exact moment, just before our lips touch.
From our very first kiss on the elevator at the Heathman Hotel, there always seemed to be this current of electricity that flows between us. Sometimes it's a little dulled, but it's there, and without fail it takes a simple kiss and turns it into an almost spiritual experience. It's there now, as our lips open and close around each other's, as Christian's tongue tentatively explores mine. One of his arms is wrapped around my waist, holding me against him, and his free hand is somewhere in my hair, holding my head still. I've got one hand fisted in his shirt and the other gripping the back of his neck.
To my surprise and disappointment, Christian is the first to end the kiss, resting his forehead against mine. We're both breathing rapidly, staring into each other's eyes.
"Please tell me you felt that," he breathes.
I nod, unable to find my voice. He hugs me tighter in response.
"And did you feel that with Thomas?"
I'm not surprised by the question; I expected it. But do I answer honestly? I have to be... "Yes," I answer, looking up into his eyes as they clench tightly shut. "But not to that extent..."
His eyes shoot open again, wider than ever. He pulls away from me just enough to look at me, searching for any hint that I might be saying it to make him feel better. The look of wonder and relief in his eyes when he sees I'm being honest makes me smile. "There is some hope then," he says mostly to himself.
"Maybe a little bit," I tease in a whisper. "About this much..." I hold up my thumb and forefinger with about a centimeter of distance between them.
He beams at me. "Well, that much is better than none," he tells me. After a second, his smile fades again and he swallows hard. "I know one kiss isn't going to fix things, even though it's made me come to life again." I smirk at his words; I can feel his erection against my belly. He rolls his eyes. "That's not what I meant!"
I giggle. "I know what you meant, Christian," I tell him. "I feel the same. I'm just relieved we haven't lost that."
He pulls me against him again, resting his lips on my forehead. "Me, too, baby," he whispers. "Me, too."
We embrace until I start to yawn. Christian releases me with a smile. "We seem to be distracting one another again," he says. "It's been a long weekend. We've both been given quite a bit to think about. So we really should get some sleep." I nod my agreement and we go about shutting off lights and locking the doors, shooting each other shy looks whenever we can. Once we've dragged out our nightly routine as long as we could, we head towards the hall.
Outside the guest room, neither of us knows quite what to do. We both know if we kiss again there won't be any sleeping going on tonight, so we keep our distance, though I can see Christian battling the impulse to press me against the nearest wall. And it's not entirely an unappealing concept...
We end up trading awkward good night smiles and waves, and I continue on down the hall to my bedroom. Before I close my door, I see him lingering in the hallway, watching my every move, and it takes every ounce of strength I possess to close the door on his gaze.