I wake up the next morning and make my way downstairs, unaware how much I'd been looking forward to seeing Christian after last night until I realized he wasn't home. There's a note taped to my door that I don't discover until I make my way upstairs to wake Teddy. Smiling like a schoolgirl at the sight of Christian's neat handwriting spelling out my name, I take the note and open it:

Anastasia,

I am so sorry that I won't be joining you for breakfast, but I had to make a last minute trip to Grey House to sign a few things. I promise not to be gone too long, lunchtime at the very latest; once this is done, I have all weekend to spend with you and our son, which is much more rewarding than mergers and acquisitions.

I also wanted to let you know how much I truly enjoyed last night. I cannot put into words how much it means to me that you're willing to give me this chance. Every second of our evening together will be forever engrained on my mind as well as the image of your sweet, beautiful smile and your melodic laugh, even when you're laughing at me. I know I still have a long way to go in earning back your trust and one date isn't going to erase all the hurt I've caused you. All I can hope is that with time I can get us past this.

I love you, Ana.

Christian x

p.s. This may be pushing my luck, but I was awake all night thinking about that kiss. It took every ounce of self-restraint to remain in my room and not sneak into yours. Do I at least get points for keeping my urges under control?

I roll my eyes at the postscript, but I'm smiling. I have no idea how long I lay in bed last night, staring at my ceiling, and thinking about what had just occurred between me and my husband. It wasn't just the kiss, though admittedly, I've given that quite a bit of thought. The date itself was beyond wonderful. It was so very uniquely Christian. Thoughtful, romantic, sweet. All our firsts—Charlie Tango, oysters at the Heathman—and a new one: seeing a movie in a real movie theater. I'm still smirking at the thought of Christian Grey in a suit that probably could have paid several people's salaries for months sitting in cheap seats surrounded by "normal" people.

And then there was the kiss.

True it's not the first one we've shared since I left him, but unlike the one in London, this one hadn't been surrounded by depressing conversation and drama. It was just the two of us, like in the beginning, where our happiness and passion pulled us towards each other like we were magnets. Though admittedly, I can't think of a single time either of us had the strength to actually pull away before we mauled off each other's clothes. There was no doubt in my mind that he was more than willing and able to do more, but the fact that he stopped when I needed him to shows a lot.

So we're just going to forget everything he's done? snarls my subconscious. One kiss and all is forgiven? You've said it yourself: this is about more than the affair with Lucy, or even the emotional affair with Elena. It's about him not respecting your need for independence and respect. How respectable is it to give in just because he pressed you against a door and snogged you senseless?

I raise an eyebrow at my subconscious's choice of terminology, but shake it off; apparently she's spent a little too long in London... I'm not forgiving him and I'm not forgetting everything that's happened. This is just part of the new beginning we both want. I could either sit around the house moping and feeling sorry for myself or I can enjoy myself. Christian is putting more effort into this reconciliation than he's put in our relationship in far too long, and I want this. For both of us. End of story.

When I arrive in the kitchen to scrounge breakfast up for me and Teddy, I find Gail preparing what looks to be tonight's dinner, obliviously humming to some song I can't quite decipher.

"Morning," I say, biting my lip against a laugh when she yelps and jumps.

She turns, her hand over her heart. I grin. "Ana, you scared me," she breathed.

"Sorry," I say, trying to sound contrite and failing miserably.

"Of course you are," she mutters, her lips twitching as she raises an eyebrow. "And how was your date with Mr. Grey."

My grin widens. "It was..." I struggle to find the perfect descriptive word. "Perfect."

She smiles fondly. "I'm glad to hear it," she tells me gently. "Mr. Grey was in a very pleasant mood this morning when he and Taylor left for the office. I can't remember the last time I saw him smiling so much."

I smile to myself, suddenly filled with the urge to hug myself and rock back and forth like a lovelorn teenager. My subconscious is disgusted with me. What else is new.

"How was your time away with Jason?" I ask, trying to get the attention off me.

Beaming, Gail tells me about her few days off with her husband as she makes tea and yogurt and granola for my breakfast. It's nice to be home again, to have this camaraderie with Gail. Christian, of course, never approved of my forming relationships with "the staff," but over the years, his objections have lost more and more of their conviction, and I know he's given up controlling that aspect. For the most part, at least.

"I've been hoping to talk to you, Ana," Gail says quietly, yanking me back to the present. Her tone has taken a serious edge and I'm suddenly nervous. "I don't want to overstep my bounds, but this has been eating away at me for nearly a year."

Shit.

"Gail, you really don't have to," I try to tell her.

She looks at me sternly. "Ana, if I were in your shoes, I would be beyond angry about this. Not just at my husband, but anyone who had a part to play in keeping it from me. In this case, that includes me. I'm ashamed of it. I should have told you what I knew the moment I found out about it; despite my employment, you have become a dear friend and I've always cared about you. Sorry doesn't quite cover it, but I'm not sure what else I can say."

I sit back in my chair at the bar, my eyes focused on my teacup. I knew at some point this would come up, but I wish it could have held out a little longer to let me bask in the afterglow of last night's date. "Did you know the whole time?" I hear myself asking in a whisper.

"No," she admits. "But I knew for long enough that I should have said something. You deserve so much better than what's been going on."

I agree, but don't say anything. Of course I wish somebody had given me some sort of hint of what was going on. Taylor, Gail, Sawyer. Any of them could have tipped me off about the affair. The fact that they didn't made me feel a little betrayed. I know the staff has always been fond of me—I'm just as fond of them—but when it comes down to it, they work for Christian. Whichever one of them told me about the affair would have been out on the street on their ass the moment Christian found out. And he would have found out, whether I told him or he discovered it in the way only he could manage.

"Can I ask you something, Gail?" I hear myself asking.

She looks up at me in surprise. "Of course, Ana," she responds.

I sigh, wondering if I even want to get into this right now. "What would you have done? If you had been in my shoes and it was Jason who'd had the affair, how would you have reacted?"

The question doesn't seem to surprise her, which makes me wonder if the thought had crossed her mind over the last several months. "Well," she begins slowly, "I'd like to think I would be strong enough to leave the way you did. My heart would be broken beyond repair and I'm not sure I could manage without him. I would certainly be angry. But whether I could ever even consider taking him back..." She sighs. "I can't tell you what I would do. Instinct tells me I would leave without looking back, file divorce, and move on with my life. But when it comes down to it, the only person who can decide what the best course of action is the one going through it. You have to decide for yourself whether you and your husband can get past this. I'm sure you feel beyond betrayed, and understandably so; I'd feel the same. Is the love you had before enough to see you through? Or will you always look at him seeing only the man who hurt you? You're strong enough to make that decision and you have to do it for yourself, not for Christian. Jason and I don't have any children between us, which would probably help me make that decision much more easily. I know you don't want to see your son hurting, but you have to consider how it will affect him to see his mother hurting. He might grow up to resent the father he absolutely adores right now. At some point, he's going to reach the age where he understands exactly what happened between you and Christian and you have to decide what you're going to tell him, whether you and Christian are together or not."

I swallow hard, nodding. Everything she is saying out loud are things I've thought repeatedly over the last few months and it's a huge comfort to have somebody validate these thoughts. "I just don't want to be seen as weak by giving into him and coming home," I say quietly, admitting my worst fears. "I feel like I'm just setting myself up for more hurt—what if he does it again? What if he doesn't follow through on his promises to change?"

Gail looks at me knowingly. "I don't think he'll pull anything like this again," she tells me. "The change in him since you've been home has been amazing. And I'm referring to the last couple years as well as the time you were away. He looks at you the way he did in the beginning and I honestly don't see him ruining this again."

I really hope she's right, but I'm still skeptical. So much needs to change and as much as I want to believe Christian can pull it off, I can't help but wonder how long it will be before he reverts to the old Christian, the one who distances himself from me rather than lets me into his head.

Our discussion is interrupted by Teddy running into the room, demanding playtime. Grinning at Gail, I sincerely thank her for everything she said before taking my son into the living room.

Yesterday was a good day. Despite not wanting to go into work for anything, I managed to finish what needed to be done and was reunited with my family by lunchtime. When I walked in the house, I found Ana lost in thought and frowning. When I asked her what was wrong, she shook her head, trying to smile. It took a bit of pressing to get her to admit that she'd been "thinking," and she refused to go into any more detail. Since then, she's been a little more distant towards me, gazing at me when I'm occupied doing something else. I'm not sure what happened between Friday night when I left her at her door and when I returned home from Grey House yesterday afternoon, but I can't deny that it is making me nervous and edgy.

Now we're on our way to Bellevue for our first family dinner since our return from London. This isn't helping my nerves. I'm about to face my parents, my siblings, and Kate, all of whom are beyond angry with me for several reasons. I've taken Ana's words about breaking the news that I've kept in contact with Elena after all these years to Grace, but I'm not sure how to go about doing it, or whether tonight is even the best time to do so. I want to come clean about what I've done. I want to prove to Ana that I'm trying to change my old behavior and I think this will go a long way in helping with that.

Perhaps we'll just see how the evening goes.

We're the first to arrive at my parents' home and they both immediately pull Ana and Teddy into hugs, ignoring me completely at first. I see my father's glare directed at me and I know if my son weren't here, I'd probably be directed to his study for some sort of lecture. To my surprise, my mother pulls me into a hug and kisses my cheek, then leads all of us into the living room for drinks. The tension is palpable and I can see how uncomfortable Ana is as she accepts a glass of wine from Carrick. Conversation is stilted until we hear the front door opening and Mia's energetic voice calling that she's arrived.

"As though we really needed the announcement," my father comments wryly with a fond smile. Ana and my mother leave the room to greet her, and before I can make an excuse to leave as well, Carrick has locked his gaze on me. "We've got a lot to talk about."

I sigh. "Dad, please," I say. "Can't we just have a nice dinner?"

He raises his eyebrows at me. "That depends," he says coolly. "Were you planning on telling us about Elena?"

I freeze, my eyes widening. "What?" I ask dumbly.

Carrick glances at the door, checking to see if we're alone. "Your mother doesn't know," he assures me. "I only came across it because I was going through some of the information about this Lucy woman and found Elena's name in several documents."

My brow furrows. "What documents?" I ask slowly, ignoring for the moment that my father is looking in on things I haven't actually asked him to look in on.

"Interrogation records, the woman's email correspondence in the days leading up to Teddy's kidnapping. Red flags were popping up like crazy so I did a bit more digging. It seems Elena has been making several large deposits into the other woman's bank account over the last year or so. Why would that be?"

I sigh heavily. This is news to me... "I don't know," I admit, not quite truthfully. "What I do know is that Elena has apparently been plotting with Lucy about breaking up my marriage. Lucy was able to access my private calendar to find out when I would be out of the country, where I would be staying, that sort of thing. I can only assume Elena's had a part in that."

"And why, after all this time, would Elena bother getting involved?" Carrick asks. "You were supposed to have cut her out of your life, at least that's what you told your mother. Am I to assume you've broken that promise?"

Now I'm starting to get angry. I was supposed to be able to break this to my parents in my own way. "What do you think?" I say harshly. "I fucked up. What else is new?"

He sighs. "Christian..." Before he can comment any further, we hear Kate and Elliot arriving, as well as Teddy and Ava squealing as they set eyes on each other for the first time in months. I take the opportunity to push myself off the couch to rejoin my family, leaving Carrick behind.

Most of my family has ignored me this evening, which is both a relief and frustrating as hell. I almost want to leave; the only person that might actually notice is my son. Then again he's having so much fun playing with his cousin that he might not. I've caught Ana looking at me several times sympathetically, but any time she tries to talk to me, someone distracts her.

Fuck this...

I leave the living room and head for music room where I stare transfixed at the piano my parents have owned since we moved into this house back when I was a child. This is the piano I learned to play on, the one that helped my find an acceptable escape when my life became too much. My fingers graze the keys softly, almost reverently, as I consider the merits of losing myself in music. Unfortunately, the choice is taken from me.

"You stupid son of a bitch."

My eyes close slowly at the growling voice entering the room. The door clicks shut and I steel myself for the inevitable. Turning towards Kate, I open my eyes and will myself to stay calm. "Good to see you, too, Kate," I mutter tersely, leaning against the wall.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she hisses at me, closing much of the distance between us.

I raise an eyebrow. "I was about to join my family for dinner," I lie dryly.

She ignores my tone, her eyes blazing in anger. "Seven fucking months, Grey!" she growls. "My best friend fled her home to get away from you for seven fucking months, refusing to tell anybody why, and you don't even have the fucking decency to tell us the truth."

I've been expecting this altercation, so I keep my mouth shut to let Kate get this out of her system.

"From the first moment I met you, I knew you would break her heart." Kate's volume has lowered, but the disgust in her tone more than makes up for it. "I warned her over and over. I told you that if you hurt her, I'd string you up by your balls. How many others have there been, Christian? You got a few submissives on the side, too? Any time Ana doesn't come to heel for you, they're your outlet?"

I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I don't have to explain anything to you, Kate," I say in a deathly quiet voice, my temper rising quickly. "It's none of your fucking business."

"You don't think so?" she counters in the same tone. "If it wasn't for you, Ana wouldn't be in this much pain right now. You drove her away from her family and friends. Instead of being the husband and father you should have been, you were out fucking some other woman. How many times did you go home and fuck Ana after leaving your whore, Grey?" My breathing is coming in rapid bursts and I know I'm about to lose it. "Why are you even trying to get back together with her? She wasn't good enough before, so what's changed?"

"Kate," I begin in warning. She's pushing me way too far right now.

"You don't love her," she says in disgust. "You're too fucking focused on your own happiness that you can't even see what you have in front of you. She gave you everything. Her virginity, her love, her devotion... your son. And this is how you repay her! She needs to run as far from you as possible and find real happiness, but once again, you've got her brainwashed into thinking you actually give a shit about her."

"Fuck you," I growl. "You think I don't know what she's given me?"

"No, I don't'!" she says loudly. "If you did, you wouldn't have cheated on her! You'd have been at home worshiping the ground she walks on. You're a selfish bastard, Christian, and that's never changed. I don't think you can change it!"

I open my mouth to respond, but all the air is blown out of me when the door opens, revealing Ana staring between Kate and me with wide eyes. I can only imagine what this looks like to her—me and her best friend alone in a room with the door closed standing far too close to one another. I sidestep Kate to get away from her, trying to think of an explanation—I can't even form words to tell her the truth of what was going on. Kate and I are still visibly angry with each other and even the slightest spark between us might push things way too far and ruin my mother's family dinner plans.

"What's going on?" Ana asks suspiciously, looking between us, her eyes resting accusingly on me.

"We were just talking," Kate manages to say.

Nodding slowly, Ana's eyes narrow on us. "I heard raised voices," she says.

"We were talking emphatically," I chime in quietly. Glancing at Kate, I find some of her anger has deflated, though she's still glaring at me as though she'd love nothing more than to rip me apart with her bare hands.

"Right," Ana drawls out. "Grace asked me to find the two of you for dinner..."

I nod. "Of course." I walk past my wife, wanting desperately to pull her into my arms and kiss her deeply enough to make the both of us forget what just happened, even if she has no idea. Her arms are wrapped around herself, hugging herself, and she barely glances at me as I pass her, her eyes trained on Kate. I think I know what Ana wants—she might not know the details of the discussion between Kate and me, but she's got enough of an idea that she wants to have a private word with her friend. With a tight smile, I leave the room, pulling the door closed, and head for the dining room.

Dinner is subdued. After Christian left us alone, I tried to get Kate to tell me what the yelling was about—I wasn't able to make out the exact words I was hearing—but she's clammed up. I'm sitting beside Christian, but he's avoiding my eyes, not engaging in conversation from anybody. The tension is rolling off him and I'm both eager and reluctant to get him alone to talk to him.

Unfortunately, I don't get a chance. After dinner, Christian receives a phone call that keeps him in Carrick's study while the rest of us enjoy a couple glasses of wine. Kate hasn't said much either, and I know it's no secret that she and Christian got into it earlier, but nobody brings it up. As we all say goodnight, Grace gives me a look of pure sympathy as she glances at my silent, brooding husband.

"Don't let him settle in this mood," she advises while she hugs me. "He'll only pull farther away."

I give her a smile, acknowledging her words and already planning how I'm going to handle this. Christian has Teddy asleep on his shoulder and is waiting as patiently he can for me to finish with the family. "Ready," I say quietly when I join them outside.

Christian nods and leads the way towards the car, spending more time than what is probably necessary making sure Teddy is buckled securely in his car seat. He spends so much time ducked in the backseat that I give up waiting for him to open my door, which he's done without fail every time we ride together, and get in on my own. Christian joins me a minute or so later, his brow furrowed as he starts the car. I glance in the rearview mirror at my sleeping son, knowing pushing conversation about whatever happened with Kate and Christian isn't the best idea at the moment.

It takes half the car ride before I find something to say that might not set him off any further. "I'm taking Teddy out tomorrow," I inform him.

He blinks rapidly as though he's just realizing I'm sitting beside him. "What?" he mutters.

"We're going to lunch with Kate and Ava," I say cautiously, watching his reaction carefully. The only reaction to hearing my best friend's name is the tensing of his jaw.

I settle back in my seat, turning away from him in favor of staring out the window. I've spent the better part of our relationship trying to get Christian and Kate to get along. In the beginning, they were the two people I loved most in the world and I couldn't stand the thought of them hating each other. As time went on, I accepted that they were both far too alike—both of them are fiercely overprotective of me, stubborn as all hell, and felt the other was wrong in whatever way they happened to be arguing about. It never stopped being frustrating and I do wish they would find common ground—it'd make my life that much easier—but I think I'm starting to resign myself to the fact that that may never happen.

Even still, whenever those two disagree, their bad moods and animosity towards each other lasts long enough for them to be rid of each other's presence and they go back to normal. For Christian to be so affected by what he and Kate were discussing tells me I was the subject. Of course, I knew Kate would have several things to say to my husband about the affair and I knew she wouldn't be wasting any time giving him a piece of her mind; Christian should have known, though. He should have expected it.

By the time we arrive home, I'm feeling upset about the apparent silent treatment I'm getting from Christian. This change from the open and happy, yet still cautious Christian that I've been dealing with since I came home has given me whiplash, but I manage to keep my peace until Teddy is tucked into bed. Predictably, Christian sets off towards his study rather than acknowledge me. I do the only thing I can think of right now: I follow him. This is supposed to be a new beginning for us, one in which we are supposed to be honest and communicative. I can't let old habits of letting him cool down to the point I don't want to bring it up again, risking an argument between the two of us, come back to the surface.

He spares me a brief glance as he sits behind his desk, his jaw tightening further. At this rate, he's going to put so much pressure on his teeth that they'll end up breaking...

"Are we going to talk about this?" I ask quietly, standing in front of the desk and crossing my arms.

Sighing, he drops his head into his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Talk about what, Anastasia?" he asks, falling into his cold CEO persona.

"What happened with Kate?"

His eyes close briefly and I see a few different emotions playing across his face—sadness, anger, self-loathing. "Don't worry about it," he mutters dismissively. "I've got it under control."

I'm trembling right now. Anger, disappointment, resentment, sadness... All the feelings I'd had for Christian before I left him are returning full force and I don't like it. I thought we were starting to get past this.

He'll never change, hisses my subconscious. It was all just words to get you back home and under his roof again. He didn't mean a single one of them.

I want to yell at him, shake him, throw something at him, anything to get him to show me he's still in there somewhere. All I can do, though, is turn around and walk away before he sees my face crumbling from hurt. I can't deal with this tonight. I'm tired and frustrated and need distance. But before I can stop myself, I'm turning around to face him again.

"Why are you doing this?" I demand quietly.

He looks up at me sharply. "Doing what?" he responds without emotion.

"Shutting me out," I clarify. "I thought you weren't going to do this anymore, that you were set on getting us back to something we haven't been for years, and here we are, after one shouting match with Kate, right back where we were before that fucking affair."

The expression on his face makes him look as though I've just slapped him, but it's gone quickly, replaced by his own anger. "You want to talk about opening up?" he asks in a deathly quiet voice. "I've been asking you since I got home yesterday why it is that you look as though you've never been more miserable. You blocked me out. Now tell me, Anastasia, why should I open up to you when you are so determined not to open up to me?"

I stare open-mouthed at him, unable to deny the claim, but unwilling to back down. "Fuck you, Christian," I mutter, turning and leaving the study. I ignore his shouts after me and the loud crashing sound that suggests he's broken something as I enter my room, slamming the door behind me.

Throwing myself onto my bed, realizing I'm acting like a pissy, pouting teenager, I wonder how we went from so happy the other night to fighting two nights later.

This is always how it goes, my subconscious reminds me. For every improvement he makes, he does something to destroy it and make it worse.

The question is, are you willing to put up with it long enough to rebuild everything you lost?

Though I don't sleep at all, I still don't come up with a suitable answer.

Having spent the entire night debating on whether to continue whatever the hell had gone on between Ana and me, I didn't sleep a wink. I lay in the guest bed, staring at the ceiling until I heard Ana moving around outside the door to get Teddy up and ready for breakfast, waiting until her voice faded away, then got ready for work. Now I'm lingering just outside the kitchen, debating on whether I should join my family for breakfast or just leave. Being the masochist I apparently am, I decide on the former, though I enter warily, trying to gage Ana's mood this morning.

She seems happy enough as she laughs and cuts up Teddy's pancakes for him. Deciding it's safe for the moment, I mutter a good morning and start filling the plate waiting for me beside the stove. When I glance over my shoulder at Ana, I find her expression has changed—she's no longer smiling or happy-looking; she's frowning and upset.

Dammit...

Teddy greets me normally, so I try to focus on my son. It's not until he's finished breakfast and runs off to watch cartoons while Ana starts on the dishes before I feel the tension between us again. I know what's upset her and I know I need to fix it before it goes any further, but I'm terrified she's blowing this way farther out of proportion than it's already been blown.

If you want her back, though, you need to start taking a couple chances, Grey. You need to stop hurting her. You need to apologize.

Taking a deep breath, I move to lean on the counter beside the sink. "Ana?" I begin quietly.

She acknowledges by tensing her body.

I sigh. "Look, about last night..."

"Don't," she tells me quietly, almost harshly. "Don't do this, Christian. The only time you're ever truly honest with me is when I'm pissed at you. You apologize then you tell me what it is I was trying to get you to tell me before I was pissed. Not this time." I stare at her, mouth agape as she turns to look at me fully, her expression cold. "You had your chance to let me in, Christian. And you blew it. So please, just leave me alone and go to work."

I feel cold and terrified and panicked. The last time she looked at me like this was right before she left me. I want to beg her forgiveness, beg her to be patient with me, beg her not to leave me. I can't do any of that, though, as she turns away from me. Instinct kicks in; I bury all the feelings that make me seem weak, replacing them with something I can handle so much better: coldness, control, power.

Without a word, I turn away and leave the kitchen, ignoring my son's calls to come play with him, and walk out the front door to where Taylor is waiting beside the SUV, slamming the door behind me.