I'd forgotten how difficult mornings can be when you're the only one making sure you and your son get up, ready, and out the door without being late. Teddy's like me in the mornings: he much prefers to stay within the warm confines of his bed and anybody who tries to rouse him receives the grumpy side of my otherwise happy, easygoing son.

With Christian's help, though, Teddy is out of his room, dressed, and eating breakfast before I even finish my shower. I smile at him gratefully when I reach the table and find a bowl of granola and yogurt waiting for me. When I woke, I immediately recalled what transpired between us last night, and I was nervous about facing him, not knowing whether things would be awkward. I almost felt guilty, hoping he didn't think I was leading him to believe that after the kiss we were... I don't know... together again. Sitting beside him, I know he didn't believe that. Hell, he said himself he knew one kiss wouldn't fix things between us no matter how much he might want it.

I'm sad as I remember Christian's leaving today. We've made so much progress this weekend and I'm worried we might backtrack once we're separated again. But this has to happen in order for us to move forward. I know we'll talk often over the next month before we see each other again. I have a lot of decisions to make before then and I need to make the right one, without my husband's influence, not only for my sake, but my son's as well. If he's too close, I know I'll make rash decisions and risk losing myself again.

"Hey," Christian says softly, reaching over to rest his fingers on my wrist. I look up at him, startled. "Don't over think, Ana. One thing at a time."

I nod, my brow furrowing as I wonder how he always seems to know what I'm thinking.

He smiles, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "I'm having the same problem," he admits. "I'm nervous about leaving you and Teddy again. I'm terrified that the moment I go everything we've worked on will be forgotten and by the next time I see you, you'll have changed your mind about wanting to work on us." He's hit every thought I've had this morning. "That kiss last night was..." His eyes flutter close and he lets out a soft growl. "Well, let's just say I'll be thinking about that kiss every free moment for the next month."

I smile. "Me, too," I tell him.

He looks relieved. "Good," he says simply, making me giggle. His smile widens. "I do love that sound, Mrs. Grey."

"I know you do, Mr. Grey. I hope you get to hear it again, often."

"I intend to, Mrs. Grey." The look in his eyes and the sincerity in his tone take my breath away. "But in the meantime, our son needs to get to school, you need to get to work, and I've got a few things to tend to before meeting my plane this afternoon."

I nod, finishing off my breakfast and letting Christian take my bowl to the kitchen while I go back to my bedroom to brush my teeth. When I rejoin the boys, Teddy has his shoes on and Christian is carrying his little backpack.

"Taylor's waiting outside for us," he tells me. "We can drop off you and Teddy so you're not late."

"That would certainly be much appreciated," I tell him honestly. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I see we've got a total of forty-five minutes to get Teddy to school and me to work. Normally I'd be racing the clock right now to catch a bus or a cab, so knowing Christian has solved this problem is a relief. "Thank you."

"Anything for you," he says with a small smile.

When we drop off Teddy, both Christian and I walk him inside the school—Christian wants to know where his son is spending his days—and once again, all the mothers and school staff are gaping at him unabashedly. I wouldn't be surprised to see some of them drooling. Christian's only acknowledgment of the attention—as always—is a small smirk.

The time comes for Teddy to say goodbye to his father and I know both of them are taking this parting pretty hard, so I don't rush them, even though I know getting to work on time will be a very close call.

I feel tears prickling behind my eyes when Christian takes Teddy in his arms and holds him so tightly I almost fear he might crush his son. But Teddy's holding him just as tightly.

"I'm going to see you again soon, baby boy," Christian murmurs, his voice muffled by Teddy's hair. "Be good for Mommy. Take care of her."

Teddy nods into Christian's shoulder. "Okay, Daddy," he says in a tiny voice. I know he's crying. "Love you."

A sound resembling a sob pushes out of Christian's throat. "I love you, too, son. More than you'll ever know."

Back on his feet, I take my turn hugging and kissing my son, then hand him his backpack. "I'll see you after school," I tell him. He nods, his lip pouting, and I know it's only a small comfort to him.

Teddy enters his classroom after another long hug and kiss from Christian, looking back at us until he look anymore.

We head back out of the school in silence and though I know he's trying to hide it, I can see Christian wiping at his eyes. "He'll be okay," I whisper as we approach the SUV again.

Christian only nods.

The drive to Canton Publishing is mostly silent and I can already feel Christian shutting himself off from me. I want to reassure him, but I can't think of any words that might be enough, so I hold my tongue. Taylor stops the car in front of my building, exchanges a glance with Christian, and exits, but makes no move to open my door like he normally would. Christian turns towards me and I know he asked Taylor to give us some private time.

"Ana, I cannot find the words to tell you how much this weekend has meant to me," he says quietly, holding my eyes. "And I'm not just referring to the kiss last night. For the first time in seven months, I feel like myself again. I know we had a few bumps in the road and probably a hundred more to come, but like I told you last night, I will prove myself to you. No matter how long it takes, I will wait an eternity for you. I love you, Anastasia. Please be patient with me."

Again, he's rendered me speechless. I think I nod at his words, but it might have been nothing more than a slight twitch of my head. "Okay." It's not a good enough response and judging by the pain that flashes through his eyes, he was hoping for more. I want to tell him I love him and I will be patient with him, but I can't quite form the words. Instead I scoot over the backseat and place a soft, lingering kiss on his lips, hoping this conveys my feelings.

His eyes are closed when I pull away and his breathing is shaky. "Ana, if you intend to go into work today, it might be a good idea if you left now. Otherwise I will not be held responsible for my actions."

My eyes widen at his confession, but I understand. I gather my bag and make to open the door, but Taylor is right there to do it for me. Getting out of the car, I give him a tight smile, then turn to look at Christian again. His eyes have darkened and he's doing his best to hide his arousal and desperation for me. "Have a safe flight," I tell him quietly. "Call me when you get home?"

He nods. "Of course," he says hoarsely. "Be safe."

I finally turn and walk away from him, determined to get to my desk and find some distraction from my thoughts. Distraction comes quickly in the form of Thomas. I've barely set down my bag and switched on my computer before he's standing behind me awkwardly. How didn't I see this coming?

"Hello, Ana," he says softly.

I turn and smile at him, leaning against my desk. "Hello, Thomas. How was the benefit on Saturday?"

He snorts a laugh. "Deathly boring. I only stayed about an hour then headed home. Would have been more interesting if you'd been there, though..."

I blush on cue. "I'm sorry I had to decline the invitation, but..."

He holds up a hand to stop me. "I know; it's fine. I'm the one who should be apologizing; I knew your husband would be in town this weekend, but I couldn't help myself. You've been on my mind since our date."

I smile. "Well, it was a very lovely date," I reply.

"With a more than lovely ending, as I recall," he says huskily. I quickly glance around the office for onlookers. "And I certainly hope I'm not pressing my luck by asking if you'd like to have dinner with me tomorrow night. Teddy is welcome, of course, if you can't find a babysitter..."

I know he's hinting that he would prefer my son didn't come along, but I've already made my decision about my future with Thomas. "I'm not sure it's a good idea for us to go out again," I say, unable to meet his eyes. "I need to concentrate on myself and my son right now, and considering the reason I'm in London to begin with..." I trail off, not entirely certain where I'm going with this. "Look, Thomas, you're wonderful. More than anything right now, I need a friend. And I'm afraid if we're anything more, I won't have that."

Thomas looks as though he's been hit, but he recovers quickly. "I understand," he says quietly. "I would be happy to be your friend, Ana."

With that, he turns away and heads into his office, closing his door softly and leaving me feeling like the world's biggest bitch. It occurs to me that I've essentially just broken up with my boss and I briefly wonder what that means for my job, but I find myself unconcerned. For one, I doubt the laws about dating in the workplace are much different than the ones in America; despite the fact that Thomas is part owner of the company, I don't see people reacting well if they were to find out Thomas was dating an employee who answered to him directly. For another, even if I were fired for whatever reason, I know I'd never want for anything. It might even be a blessing in disguise; without a job in London, there isn't much keeping me here...

Getting ahead of yourself, aren't you? asks my subconscious. It's been one pleasant weekend that ended with a couple more than pleasant kisses, but that doesn't mean everything with Christian is better all of a sudden. Between the memories of what he put you through and his most recent communications with Elena, this is far from better...

Somehow I manage to focus all my attention on work. Thomas finally comes out of his office an hour or so before lunchtime, treating me surprisingly normal. The only difference in his behavior is that he's less flirty than he has been. I think he's worked out that Christian's visit this weekend has sparked this sudden desire for us to not have a second date, and if this is the case, I'm relieved; it means I won't have to go into all the details. Besides this is between Christian and me, and I have no idea which way it might go.

"I was going to order some takeout for lunch," Thomas tells me after we've gone through a pile of manuscripts. "Are you interested?"

I open my mouth to speak, but a knock on the door interrupts. Thomas and I look up at the same time and I feel the blood drain from my body. Christian is standing in the doorway, looking between us coolly. It's only now that I realize that Thomas's chair is pulled up right next to mine and his arm is resting behind my back. I can only imagine how this looks to Christian. Especially since he doesn't know the man with his arm around me is the man I went on a date with last week. If ever there was a moment that I wanted the ground to magically open up and swallow me, this would undoubtedly be it.

Thomas slowly stands, looking at Christian suspiciously. "Can I help you?" he asks.

Christian stands at his full height and I see him reverting to his cold alter ego: Christian Grey, jealous and overprotective husband/father and master of his universe. "I'm here to see Anastasia Grey," he tells Thomas, not even darting his eyes towards me.

Thus begins the pissing match. Thomas isn't quite as tall as Christian, but he's pretty close. And it's immediately clear Thomas isn't intimidated by Christian's presence in the slightest. "And you would be...?" Thomas says dryly.

I swear I see a vein popping in Christian's neck as he stares down the man standing beside me. It doesn't help matters when Thomas slides a little closer to me. I'm sending out silent messages to Thomas begging him for his own sake not to try putting an arm around me in some display of being protective.

"Her husband," Christian responds through clenched teeth. I can see his hands at his sides, balled up in fists. "And you?"

I stand up, drawing the attention of the men, both of whom seem to have forgotten I'm in the room. "Christian Grey, this is Thomas Canton," I say, knowing it will only be a second before recognition and realization strikes. His eyes narrow on me and I know he's reached a conclusion, and not only is it one he doesn't like, but one that has every possibility of starting World War III between us today. "Thomas, my husband Christian."

Neither man makes a move to shake hands, which bodes well for me; I can only imagine the looks we would receive leaving the building for the hospital if one of them broke the other's hand...

I glance to my left to find Thomas has put more distance between us in light of the revelation that the man who intruded into the office is my husband. Yet another blow to the man's ego. "Christian," I say, bringing his attention back to me. I almost flinch at the cold glare he's giving me. "I thought you had a flight to catch."

"I do," he says coolly. "But I finished my meetings early and thought I might drop by and take you to lunch."

Thomas shifts his feet a little bit and I look up at him. "Ana and I were about to order some takeout," he says rather bravely. I have to admit, I admire the man's dedication; most others would have probably run for safety to get away from the Christian Grey glare. "You're free to join us, of course..."

I can only recall one other time when I saw Christian's jealousy send him into a blind rage, and that was in Aspen not long after we were married, when another man dared put his hands on me while I was dancing with Kate and Mia. I know if he had been left to his own devices, Christian would have killed that man, and I know if he is left to his own devices today, he would happily kill Thomas without a second thought. As always, I have to diffuse the situation before it gets too far out of hand. This is my place of work, after all, and I want to be able to look my boss in the eye after today. "Thomas, if it's all the same to you, perhaps we can have lunch another time?" I ask him tentatively. I swear I see a triumphant smirk pass Christian's lips for the briefest of seconds.

Thomas sighs in defeat, nodding, and forcing a smile on his face. "Of course, Ana," he says kindly. "I'll see you when you get back."

This, of course, is meant to set Christian off, but I've already grabbed my bag and jacket and walked around my desk towards him. I tug at his hand to get him to end the staring contest and leave the office. He turns abruptly from Thomas, draping an arm around my shoulders to guide me towards the elevator. When we enter, I know there is no chance of sparks flying between us the way they always do when he and I are confined in elevators. Christian is radiating anger and hostility, and he doesn't even glance my way during the ride. He practically drags me from the building and into the SUV where Taylor is waiting for us, and I wait for the inevitable explosion.

Christian is taking several deep breaths in succession, his eyes closed, and I know he's counting to ten; though if I know him at all, he's somewhere around seventy-five. Finally he turns towards me, eyeing me warily—quite the change from the angry Christian I was dealing with only minutes ago.

"Thomas Canton?" he asks quietly. I nod. "As in Canton Publishing?" I nod again, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. "And would this be the same Thomas you went on a date with last week?"

"Yes," I tell him, knowing what's coming next.

"You never learn, do you?" he hisses at me.

My head snaps up to meet his gaze. "Excuse me?" I say incredulously.

He's shaking his head. "Your boss, Ana," he says in disgust. "You'd think after working for Jack Hyde you'd know better than to mix up with management."

I pale, but whether it's in annoyance at him for bringing up Hyde or the memory of Hyde at all, I'm not entirely certain. "First of all," I begin in a deathly quiet voice, "Thomas is nothing like Jack Hyde. Second, I can make my own decisions and judgments about people. And third... fuck you, Christian!"

"Fuck me?" he repeats in a shout.

"Yes," I snap. "Fuck you. You have absolutely no right to tell me who I see. You forfeited that right when you fucked Lucy for five months straight. Or have you forgotten why I'm in London?"

I watch as Christian's anger dissipates and transforms into abject misery. "I thought we were working on things?" he asks weakly.

Sighing, my anger goes away just as quickly. "We are," I tell him quietly.

"Then why are you still bothering with him?"

I almost tell him that I've put a stop to things with Thomas, but I can't quite make myself do it. I don't know if it's because I'm still so hurt by the affair that I'm using Thomas as a weapon against him, or if I think I might change my mind about dating Thomas. When my silence continues, I hear Christian sigh, and though I'm not looking at him, I know he's running his hands through his hair in frustration.

"I'm sorry," he tells me quietly. "I just didn't want to leave without seeing you one last time and I thought it would be nice to have lunch. If you want, I can take you back to work and I'll just wait at the airport until my flight."

And there's the guilty feeling again. "Christian, no," I say quietly. "I'm sorry, too. I just was not expecting you to show up at work like that."

He sighs heavily. "Look, I know you're trying to find your own way here, Ana. I'm doing everything possible to let you, despite the fact that thinking about you with another man, no matter who he is, makes my blood boil. And I know it's not the same as seeing what you saw on that video with Lucy. Even if we find out our relationship can't be saved, I will never stop worrying about you or loving you, and that also means I'm not going to stop being jealous if I see you with somebody else."

"I appreciate your concern, Christian," I tell him. "And I understand why you feel the way you do. I'm not trying to hurt you by seeing Thomas and to be honest I don't even know whether I'll continue seeing him. But until I make that decision with absolute certainty, please keep the pissing contests to a minimum."

He smirks at me. "Pissing contests, huh?" he says wryly. "Baby, you haven't seen a pissing contest."

I roll my eyes discreetly and pretend not to see Christian's darkening gaze. "Please trust me with this, Christian," I tell him.

"I do trust you," he replies genuinely. "Ana, I trust you with my life and my son's life. What I don't trust is that fucker you work for who seems to think it's okay to date his employees."

"I'm going to pretend you of all people didn't say that. I seem to recall you asking me numerous times when we first started seeing one another to come work for you." I sigh when he smirks at me in response. "Please just let this go for now." I need him to trust that I know what's best for me and for our son. Maybe that's why I'm not telling him about my decision to not see Thomas anymore outside of work. He still sees me as the innocent naïve college student he met six years ago and that is one of the many things he needs to change his outlook on.

He's staring at me like I've just asked him to cut off one of his hands, but I remain silent and firm to my words. It takes a few minutes, but he finally starts to deflate, leaving only the lost little boy he becomes when his inner defenses are torn down around him. "Okay," he whispers. "I'll let it go. Doesn't mean I have to like it, though."

I smile sadly, reaching over for his hand, which he uses to almost crush my fingers. "No, you don't," I agree.

We ride in silence a little while longer until Taylor stops the car outside a small bistro. Christian looks over to me a little nervously and it takes me a minute to realize this isn't just any bistro: it's one of the places he took me to on our honeymoon. We spent more time leaning across the table towards each other to steal kisses than we did actually eating. I know why he's doing this. He's trying to remind me of the happy times we had, and our honeymoon was one of the very best.

"We can go somewhere else if you like," Christian murmurs to me, squeezing my fingers. "This was just the first place I thought of..."

I seriously doubt that, I think to myself. Christian doesn't do improvisation. He's been waiting all weekend for today so he could take me here, just the two of us. "It's fine," I say quietly, uncertain whether I'm lying or not.

He's suspicious of my tone, but he nods and opens his door to get out, giving me his hand to help me out. I'm not even the slightest bit surprised when we're being led to the exact table we sat at the last time we were here, and without even ordering it, the waiter brings over the same bottle of wine we drank then.

"Christian, this is my lunch break," I tell him when he tries to slide a wine glass towards me. "I can't go back to work drunk."

"Who says you're getting drunk?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. "Surely Thomas," it amazes me how much disdain he can put into one word, "wouldn't mind you having a drink with your lunch..."

"A drink," I emphasize, holding up a finger. "Singular."

He chuckles, nodding. "Singular," he agrees. "What are you in the mood to eat?"

We're silent as we scan the menus we've been given, though I know he's taking every possible opportunity to look at me. Once we've ordered our lunch, we each sit back in our chairs, sipping at our wine. I'm scanning my brain for something, anything to say that won't lead us to argue again; I just don't have the energy right now.

"Can I ask you something without you flying off the handle?" I ask, staring into my glass.

He nods silently, his eyes wary and guarded.

"You already know Thomas, don't you?"

His eyebrows rise briefly. "Not him personally," he says carefully. "Though I am familiar with Canton Publishing. A few years ago, when you started talking about wanting to go back to Grey Publishing, I had my eye on the place in case you ever thought of expanding. I knew how much you loved London and the chance for you to be able to come here regularly might make you happy..." He shrugs slightly. "When I approached them about selling, there was some sort of family argument between the siblings that are running things. One person was open to negotiation while another refused flat out. They eventually told me to fuck off and that was the last I ever heard from them, but to my knowledge, Thomas wasn't ever involved with any of the decision making."

I'm staring at him open-mouthed. He was going to buy Canton Publishing for me? This is beyond confusing. Every time I wanted to talk about returning to work, he shot me down leaving me thinking that was going to be the end of it. He never said anything about London or another publishing company.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask in a whisper.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," he responds, looking every bit a petulant little boy whose plans were foiled. "It was going to be your anniversary present that year, but when they declined all my offers, I didn't see any reason in telling you about it." He gives me a half-smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "So you can imagine my surprise when I saw where you're working. Looks like you got it anyway."

"I'm an assistant, Christian," I tell him just for something to say. "It's a little different than running a company."

He nods. "It is," he agrees. "And just for the record, I know I didn't tell you nearly enough, but you did an incredible job running Grey Publishing. I was so proud of how quickly you learned how to run things. There were times when you were almost doing too good a job. I didn't agree with some of the decisions you made on the business side of things, but you always proved me wrong, showing me that I might be great at running my business, but I don't know shit at the publishing world."

I'm blushing and I know it. I recall some of the arguments we had over seemingly small things at Grey Publishing—staffing, contracts with certain authors I thought were worth more than Christian believed, other minor details that I didn't think twice about approving or declining—and I recall how he made me feel about five inches tall reminding me that it was because of him I was in charge of Grey Publishing at all. He only made the mistake of saying that to me once since the repercussions involved me staying with Kate and Elliot for three days with our eight-month-old son. The night he showed up on Elliot's doorstep begging my forgiveness led to a night of the most incredible make-up sex we've ever had.

"Better late than never," I say, surprised at the bitterness of my words.

Christian looks as though I've slapped him and I'm immediately sorry. He wanted this to be a pleasant lunch, not one where we're both left feeling awkward with one another. "I know," he whispers. "I'm sorry. There seems to be no end to the things I've done to hurt you. Just know that if you ever want to go back to Grey Publishing, the job is yours, no questions asked."

"Christian..." I say wearily.

He holds up a hand to stop my inevitable protest. "I'm not trying to pressure you, Ana," he says gently. "Hell, I'm not even saying it's yours if you come home to me. The job is yours. Period. Whether you're with me or not. I bought it for you."

"I'll keep that in mind," I tell him, trying to hold my tears at bay.

Luckily our lunch arrives, providing a more than welcome distraction, and we eat peacefully, occasionally chatting about nonsensical topics. My meal is exceptionally delicious, just as I remember it being on our honeymoon, and the look on Christian's face as he chews his steak suggests he feels the same.

It's not until we're once again at the curb in front of Canton Publishing that the reality of Christian leaving returns. Part of me wants to ask him to stay, while the rest of me is urging me to stand firm in my convictions. The rest of me wins.

"Ana," he says, turning towards me. "We're okay, aren't we?"

My brow furrows. "What do you mean?" I ask cautiously, praying he doesn't think what I think he thinks.

"I don't want to go home thinking you're hurt or angry with me," he explains. "I don't want this weekend to have been for nothing. Correct me if you think I'm wrong, but I think we've made some decent progress..." He trails off waiting for me to correct him, but I don't. He glances out the window at the building. "Well, I wouldn't want you in trouble with your boss, so I should probably let you leave."

I smile at him. "Thank you for lunch," I tell him, leaning over to kiss his cheek, my lips lingering a little longer than necessary, until his breathing hitches. I hesitate before backing away, needing to say one more thing to him before I go back to work. My lips are against his ear and he's holding his breath as I whisper, "I love you, Christian Grey. And I want us to be a family again. I just need a little more time."

When I pull away, his eyes are wide as though he can't believe what he's hearing. "Time," he says faintly, nodding. "All the time you need, baby."

I smile shyly at him, kissing his cheek once more before getting out of the car.

The rest of my day flies by with thoughts of Christian. His plane has probably just taken off and with every second, he's going farther and farther away from me. I want to chastise myself for a moment of weakness after so long of regaining the strength I've lost over the years. But when it comes down to it, despite his many flaws and mine, I need him. Yes, he hurt me, and yes, that hurt is going to stick with me for a long time to come, but all this separation is doing is making us miserable. Not to mention our son.

Thomas has hardly spoken to me since I returned from lunch, but I'm finding myself caring less and less about what he thinks. I'm not entirely certain when I made the decision, but I have decided that when Christian comes to visit next month, Teddy and I will be returning home with him.

Just as I'm gathering my jacket and bag in preparation to pick up my son, my phone rings. "Thomas Canton's office, Anastasia Grey speaking," I say.

"Mrs. Grey. This is Sylvia Moore. I'm one of your son Teddy's teachers...?"

"Oh, yes, Mrs. Moore," I say, listening with half an ear. "What can I do for you?"

"Mrs. Grey, the reason I'm calling is because about an hour ago, Teddy was signed out of school by who we believed to have been a friend of yours," the teacher explains. "It's come to my attention that this person was not authorized to sign him out and we just wanted to make sure you approved this person ahead of time."

I have no idea how it is I'm still on my feet. "No," I whisper, "I didn't approve anybody signing out my son."

There's silence on the other end.

"Where is my son?" I demand loudly.

"Mrs. Grey, if you could come to the school immediately, we can talk about this in person."

"I don't want to fucking talk about it," I shout. "I want to know where my son is!"

The other woman continues speaking, but I can't hear a goddamn word she's saying. I'm in somebody's arms, hysterical. How is it a couple hours ago I was on top of the world, prepared to be with my husband again, and now everything has come crashing down around me?

Fuck that. Where's my son?