I'm lying in bed, surrounded by darkness, staring at the ceiling, and unable to get the vision of my mother's face out of my mind. I've seen her angry with me. I've seen her disappointed by my actions. I've seen her hurt by the things I'd said to her. But all of those times, she's let the emotion go somehow—crying, yelling, lecturing. Tonight was much worse. She looked positively devastated by what I told her and she didn't even acknowledge me. Wouldn't look me in the eye as she left with my dad. I was in shock, with the old feelings of loss and abandonment returning with a vengeance.

Of all the things I've done over the years, this wasn't the one I believed would push her over the edge of hating me. I knew if I wasn't careful one of these days something would happen outside my control and it would come back to Grace.

Not really out of your control, Grey... It was your choice to continue seeing Elena. Your choice to confide in her when you were having a rough time in your marriage—what was it Ana called it? Emotional affair. It was your choice to let Elena and Lucy worm their way into your brain. You've broken the hearts of your wife and your mother—the two women who always meant most to you, the two women who saved you from the darkness. They loved you unconditionally, yet it wasn't enough to satisfy you. How long's it going to be before you make Ana hate you just as much as Grace does right now?

I close my eyes tightly, willing the image of Ana looking at me—or not looking at me—the same way Grace did tonight to leave my mind.

No. I have to find a way to fix this. I can't lose either of them. And once this is over, if Grace and Ana don't hunt Elena down and kill the bitch themselves, I might just have to take care of it. I'm so fucking done.

I feel myself drifting off to sleep, after listening to Ana's shuffling out in the hall, the turning on and off of lights, and her brief hesitation outside my bedroom door. I thought she might come in, try to talk to me again, but she didn't. I know I need to tell her what's on my mind. And I will. But I couldn't deal with it right after watching my mother leave the room without even a glance in my direction. I have to figure out what to do about this—do I call Grace as soon as possible or give her a couple days to calm down? Or do I wait for her to contact me? What if she doesn't? What if this was enough for her to realize just how fucked up I am?

At some point in the night, I'm startled awake by a tentative knock on the door. I glance at the clock and find it's nearly two in the morning—apparently I managed to drift off to sleep. I know who's knocking, but before I get a chance to call for her to enter, the door slowly opens.

"Christian?" Ana is glancing around the door, whispering.

"I'm awake," I say drowsily. "Come in."

She hesitates briefly before entering and closing the door behind her. We're both silent as she crosses the room to the bed and feels around on the bed to see if there's enough room for her to lie down. I scoot over a little and she climbs in. "I just want to see if you're okay," she says quietly.

I shake my head in the dark. "Not really," I admit.

I see her sympathetic smile as she slides down in the bed, turning onto her side to face me. I gasp slightly when I feel the backs of her fingertips tracing my jaw. "Just give her time," she whispers. "It was a lot to take in, Christian."

"Doesn't help that she's still pissed that I had an affair," I mutter bitterly.

Ana nods a little. "No, probably not," she concedes. "But she's your mom. She loved you from the day she saw you and nothing you can do will change that."

"How do you know that, though?" I challenge. "How do you know this isn't the final straw? After all the times I've disappointed her or hurt her feelings..." I shake my head miserably. "I'm not a good son. I'm not a good husband. I'm not a good father. Fuck, I'm not a good person!"

She sighs heavily. "Christian, enough with the self-loathing bullshit already," she says firmly, her voice rising from her previous whisper slightly. "You fucked up. Face it like a man. I know goddamn well this isn't how you handle a bad business deal. You wouldn't be where you are if you just curled up and felt sorry for yourself anytime someone didn't agree to your terms." I'm staring at her wide-eyed as she pushes herself off the bed and crosses her legs. "Christian, if I could forgive you for what you've done to me, then your mother will forgive you for this. She just needs time."

I'm frozen in place. There is no way I heard that correctly. "You... forgive me?" I breathe.

She rolls her eyes, but smiles. "Of all the things I just said, why am I surprised that's the one thing you picked up on..." She sighs again. "Yes, I forgive you," she whispers. "It doesn't mean I've forgotten everything that's happened or the pain you put me through, but if we're going to move forward, we need to start letting go of the past. There's still a pretty good amount of hurt. That is going to take a while for me to let go. But I think I decided some time ago that I would get here. Tonight just solidified that decision. You still have a lot to tell Grace and Carrick. And there is still a lot you and I both need to improve on. But I think the only thing that will keep us going the way we are and improving on that is giving you my forgiveness."

I have no words to describe how I feel right now. Relieved. Ecstatic. Overwhelmed. I know I need to say something right now, but I don't know what that should be. I settle on reaching out and pulling her into my arms so her head is resting against my heart—I'm hoping the rapid beating might be able to tell her more than anything I can say. She puts her arms around my waist, relaxing against me. I'm home. Really home for the first time in years. My breathing is shallow and erratic. This woman lying against me is everything. She's my life. She's my light. There is nobody else in the world that can replace her. I am a bastard of the worst possible variety for ever thinking otherwise. With her, I don't need anything else. I don't need anybody else. I should be worshipping the ground she walks on and the air she breathes. I now know that I will spend the rest of my life proving to her that I'm worthy of her love. Because that's what she's saying me forgiving me, right? That she loves me.

"Thank you," I breathe into her hair. It's not enough, I know. But if I say anything more, it'll be garbled and nonsensical, and she deserves more than that from me.

But when she looks up at me, I know she gets my real meaning. She smiles. "You're welcome." With that, she puts her head back onto my chest. And with her in my arms, I'm able to fall asleep and stay asleep for the first time in months.

Over the next few days, despite Grace's less than warm reception of Christian's admission that only scratched the surface of what he really needed to say, I think I can honestly say I haven't been happier in years. Christian is smiling almost every time I see him. He volunteers information about his day as well as how he's feeling and what he's thinking. I almost want to ask what the catch is. Then I remind myself that by forgiving him, I also need to start letting go of my suspicions.

Besides, if I don't, it will undoubtedly ruin whatever it is Christian has planned for our second date this evening. I'm giddy—actually giddy—and nervous as I try to figure out what we'll be doing. All Christian would say was to dress comfortably. He's been home from work for nearly two hours now, and in that time, I've seen him for probably five minutes altogether.

We haven't heard a word from Carrick or Grace since they left the other night. Christian is still a little on edge about it, but his outlook overall is positive. I asked him about his plans to rid our lives of Elena Lincoln for good. All he would tell me is that once his plans see fruition, it will be permanent. When I asked him how permanent, he actually laughed—assuming correctly that I thought he'd had plans to have her killed... Not that I can find it in myself to be against that plan... He didn't want to say much yet, since the plans he has need to be kept under wraps for the time being, lest it somehow get back to Elena. Almost immediately after telling me that, he quickly amended his words, assuring me he wasn't concerned about me telling anybody. He just doesn't want to jinx his plans. For the most part, I understand that and I will happily sit on the sidelines and wait for the results.

"Ana?"

I look up from where I'm staring at my shoes with a rather malicious grin on my face at the thought of what he has up his sleeve, then climb from my bed to my feet. "Up here, Christian!" I call back. I quickly grab a jacket, assuming he's coming up to collect me for our date—the one I've been thinking about almost nonstop for days—and as I step out of the room, I see him walking towards me with his boyish smile in place.

"Hi," he says quietly, leaning down to place a sweet kiss on my lips. "Are you ready?"

I smile widely. "More than ready," I respond, trying to refrain from dancing in place.

"Really?" His tone is suggestive and his smile changes to match it. "Interesting..."

I roll my eyes at him, pushing him away slightly. "Mind out of the gutter, Grey," I say to him, heading down the hallway.

"Not possible with you around, Mrs. Grey," he tells me as he catches up and grabs my hand in his. "Especially when you look so beautiful."

I glance down at my jeans and sweater then up at Christian with a raised eyebrow. He's smiling knowingly. "I think you're biased," I tell him dryly.

He chuckles. "Probably," he says. "Does it matter?"

Biting back a smile, I shake my head. "No, not really."

He stops in the hallway and turns to face me. "Stop biting that lip, Mrs. Grey," he murmurs darkly, pulling my lip from my teeth and softly rubbing his thumb against it.

"Why's that, Mr. Grey?" I try to ask coyly.

He only raises his eyebrow and smirks. "I think you know..." He turns away again, grabbing my hand and pulling me down the stairs. I start towards the front door, but Christian heads towards the kitchen, confusing me even further as we exit through the backdoor and walk down onto the lawn.

"Christian, where are we going?" I ask as we continue walking until we're nearly at the shoreline.

"Here." He stops just in front of a large blanket with a picnic basket in one corner, an unlit candle in the center, and an ice bucket chilling a bottle of wine.

I take it all in slowly and realize belatedly that Christian is watching my expression closely, and his face is falling.

"You don't like it?" he asks, looking dejected.

"No, Christian!" I say quickly. "It's great! Really. It's just..."

"Not what you expected," he finishes. "Perhaps you were looking for something a little more extravagant?"

I glare at him, noting his suddenly teasing tone. "Okay, well, I expected to have at least left the property," I respond, letting him help me onto the blanket. He sits down beside me, grinning. "Admittedly, it's not really like you to go with such simplicity. That doesn't mean I don't like it."

"Fair enough," he concedes, reaching for the wine bottle and two glasses. "So out of curiosity, what were you expecting?"

I'm blushing as I think over all the things I envisioned might be happening tonight, none of which included a picnic on our property beside the water overlooking the sunset. "I don't know," I tell him, accepting my wine glass. "With you, I never know. Considering our last date was a flight in Charlie Tango to Portland for dinner at the Heathman, I suppose I thought about soaring."

He's beaming at me then his smile turns more suggestive. "Soaring or sore-ing?" he asks, before bursting into laughter at my burning face while I try to glare. It's not long before I'm laughing with him at the memory he's brought to mind. Once we both sober enough to have an actual conversation again, he's got a serious expression on his face again. "As much as I enjoy flaunting my money and impressing you with the extravagance only I can provide you, I also know how much you tend to enjoy the more simple things. And when you're involved, I enjoy them, too."

I muse that only Christian Grey could inject confidence, egotism, and sweetness into one sentence, but I'm also grinning. "Somehow, I'm expecting this to have a bit of Christian Grey flare to it," I tell him.

Now he's got his shy expression, the boyish sweet smile that makes him look his actual age rather than the cold CEO persona he portrays at work. "I'll have to see what I can do then," he says simply, clinking his glass against mine.

We settle on the blanket and spend the next hour or so talking. The sun is only beginning to set and it seems Christian has a schedule he's keeping us to as it lowers in the horizon. From the basket, he removes a bowl filled with dinner rolls and sets them down, then another bowl full of salad. He dishes out the salad onto small plates, drops a roll onto each then hands me one. I refrain from any one of the smart mouth questions that come to mind about what I'm supposed to do with the plate in my hands, and start eating.

As we eat, we talk. We discuss our son and getting him enrolled in a local preschool—it's taken this long for us to even consider the option after what happened in London. He tells me about work and the new girl working in the lobby who's yet to learn Christian isn't up for idle chitchat first thing in the morning and certainly not about her cat, Bonkers. He's trying to glare at my laughter at his story, but it doesn't lessen my amusement in the slightest. I can't remember the last time we sat like this, joking, carefree, teasing.

I know a lot of it has to do with me telling him I forgive him for the affair. I've spent weeks thinking about it—whether it was too early, whether I was putting my faith in a man who had so thoroughly broken my heart less than a year ago, whether I would just be setting myself up for more hurt. The more I dwelled on everything, the more I realized Christian and I have both been holding back so much and it's because he's walking on eggshells around me, because he's afraid that one wrong move will send me running, while I'm worried about learning some new deep dark secret he's been keeping from me or chasing him away into the arms of somebody else. And I realized that if all our focus is on our fears and concerns, we're not moving forward like we say we want. Giving him my forgiveness pushes aside so many barriers between us, allowing us to get back to Christian and Ana. We've still got a lot of work ahead of us and I'm not going to ignore it just because I've forgiven him, but we need this.

Fuck it. I'll say it.

I need this. I need to know I can forgive him. I need to know I can get past what he's done. I need to know I can trust him again.

Call it selfish if you want. My husband had a five-month affair during which he allegedly fell in love with his mistress. Not to mention he kept in touch with his ex-child molester who takes every fucking chance she can to ruin our lives, even after promising me six ways to Sunday he'd never see or speak to her again. If that hasn't earned me the right to be selfish, I don't know what will.

"What are you thinking about?"

I jump guiltily, turning to find Christian resting on one elbow, facing me, his brow furrowed as he scrutinizes my expression. "Nothing," I say quickly, reflexively. When he raises his eyebrows pointedly, I sigh. "Okay, not nothing, obviously... I was just thinking how nice it is that we're sitting here even after everything that's happened. And 'nice' doesn't even come close to really covering it."

"More like miraculous," Christian mutters out loud, still watching me as I mirror his position on the blanket. I nod. "Ana, you have given me so much recently—your forgiveness being chief among them—and I feel as though I've given you nothing in return. Before you argue," he pauses as I open my mouth to do just that, "a couple dates don't even come close to showing you how infinitely grateful I am to still have you in my life. Hell, a couple months ago, I was convinced we were done for good. And that was before you handed me that fucking separation agreement. Of course I wasn't going to stop fighting for you, not until my last dying breath, but if you had actually gone through with filing for separation officially, followed by divorce papers..." He closes his eyes and shakes his head slightly as though he's in pain. When his eyes reopen, they are filled with such sadness, regret, and pain that my heart clenches. "As much as I didn't want to lose you, I would have let you go if that was what you wanted. And even though I don't believe I'm worthy of your forgiveness and your love if that's what you're offering me, I'm going to damn well take it, and every second for the rest of my life, I will find some way to earn everything you're giving me right now. All I can hope is that in the end I'm able to give you even a tenth of what you've given me."

"It's not a contest, Christian," I chide him, shaking my head minutely.

He smiles. "I know. But I have a lot more to earn—your trust, your love, your heart... You've got mine, baby. All of it. Everything I have now, everything I will have in the future. It's yours. In fact..." He sits up suddenly, reaching for the basket and pulling out a manila folder before turning back to me, looking acutely nervous. "Here."

I tentatively take the folder he thrusts at me. "What is this?" I ask reluctantly. He doesn't reply, instead staring intently at the folder with his brow furrowed. With a sigh, I open it and blink several times in confusion. I'm staring at a stack of what looks to be legal paperwork and it takes me several read-throughs to understand what it is I'm looking at. "Christian. No..."

He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair before moving back to sit right beside me. "Yes, Ana," he says softly.

"Why are you giving me this?" I can't bring myself to look away from the papers to meet his eyes.

"Because I've been trying to think of a way to show you that I'm committed to repairing everything I've destroyed between us," he tells me quietly. "Because I want you to know that without you at my side, I have nothing and there is no value to my life. Everything I work for is worthless without your love. And now I'm giving you the power to take everything from me if I ever hurt you again. Having said that, I have no intention of ever hurting you again."

I finally drag my eyes up to meet his. "Christian, I don't want this." I thrust the folder back into his hands, wanting as far from me as possible.

He gives me a small smile. "I know," he says. "And it's for that exact reason that I need you to have it. Despite what people have said over the years, I've never once believed you were with me because of what I have or what I can give you. Every other woman I've been with has been attracted by my money. They all wanted something materialistic from me. All you ever asked of me is me. It's taken me years to accept that; my biggest fear all along is that once you realized underneath the thin layer of what little decency I might have is a soulless, heartless, cruel bastard, you'd take whatever you needed from me and run and I'd never see you or Teddy again."

I'm staring at him in horror, unable to believe he could think so little of me. "That's says a hell of a lot more about you than it does me," I say heatedly.

"I know," he says calmly. "Believe me, I know. Ana, you've always been a better person than I could ever be and I will spend the rest of my life wondering why the fuck you would settle for a man who could so easily take you for granted and throw away everything you've given him."

"The answer's easy, Christian," I say, trying and failing not to sound exasperated. I take a deep breath to give him the answer, but he interrupts me.

"Because you love me," he says, smiling widely. "Baby, I know the answer. I just can't figure out why. It's taken me far too long to truly believe it: you love me as much as I love you. Probably a little more considering what I've put you through and the fact that you're still here."

"You didn't believe it before?" I ask indignantly. How much else could I have done to show him what he meant to me? I gave him everything. I gave him more.

He shrugs. "I did to a point," he admits. "But the more we fought and the farther we pushed each other away, the more I wondered. I'm going to sound like a shit saying this, but I believed that if you really loved me, you'd stop defying me, stop fighting me all the time. If you loved me like you said you did, you'd agree to everything I asked of you. I came to a realization after you left me that if you turned into that woman, the one that submits to my every whim and every desire, and didn't fight me on everything, you wouldn't be the girl I fell in love with. The girl who challenged and changed me. The girl I worshipped and couldn't get enough of to the point I chased her across the country, because I couldn't stand the thought of being away from her for an entire week. The beautiful, sweet, brilliant, innocent, perfect girl I had to have no matter what it took.

"Ana, the first time you told me you were in love with me, which was incidentally the same day you left me..." He pauses, swallowing hard at the memory. "It was both the best and worst moment of my life. The best because someone so incredible could see past my persona to something I didn't even know existed within me. The worst because I thought the only thing that would come of it would be your eventual heartache and pain, and I wouldn't be able to live with that. When that became reality, when you took our son and left me, it snapped me out of everything I'd been thinking and feeling, and I realized I couldn't go on like I had been.

"I don't know if this is something you want to hear, but whether you believe it or not, I do understand the effect Elena has had on my life to now. She abused me. She tortured me. She introduced me to something I thought I needed to function in life and business. I don't know what would have happened to me if she hadn't seduced me—maybe I would have ended up in prison or on drugs like she said I would; maybe not. Maybe I would have found my own way to starting GEH. Maybe I would have still met you. I don't know. The what-ifs don't matter at this point. What matters is that I don't want that bitch in my life again. Ever. I don't give a fuck about what she might be planning or whether she needs a loan for some fucking ridiculous venture. If I ever see her again, if she ever comes near you or Teddy, I will fucking destroy her. I let her into my head, let her manipulate something that could have been a short-lived thing. Before Elena got involved, I was close to ending things with Lucy. I had a brief moment of clarity—far too brief, I know—where I saw what would happen if I continued the affair with Lucy. I knew I would lose you. And as much as I don't want to continue blaming other people for my own stupid actions, I know Elena was a factor in pushing things as far as they went. I thought I needed Elena in my life for a myriad of reasons that don't matter at this point. You were right about what you said in Flynn's office, about me still being Elena's submissive. She calls, I come running. And I honestly didn't see anything wrong with that, which only makes it worse. I don't want that. I don't need that. I need you. I want you.

"Probably the worst thing that happened while you were gone was my realization of exactly what I lost. I didn't have somebody challenging me or pushing my limits. I didn't have somebody to defy me. I didn't have somebody I could relax with and laugh with, someone who could tease me without a second thought. Everyone around me is constantly on tenterhooks. They're terrified and intimidated by me. You don't take my shit. And I love that about you. You stand up to me, put me in my place. When we're good, we're fantastic, and I want the fantastic for the rest of my life. I want you for the rest of my life. I told you once that you had all the power in our relationship. That's still true, though perhaps not in the way I meant it originally. This," he shows me the folder, "is to prove just how much power you hold over me, Ana. Not just personally, but in every aspect of my life. You have the power to destroy me in every way. If you leave again, everything goes with you. I'll end up living in poverty again and I'll have deserved it. It's not emotional blackmail; it's plain truth. So please, take this."

I resignedly take the folder back from him, looking at the paperwork again. He's put GEH and everything it comes along with in my name. Christian's name is nowhere in these documents. Everything is mine. From the building of Grey House to our own house to Charlie Tango. He's kept nothing for himself. It means if I ever leave him again, he really and truly is left with nothing. How is this not emotional blackmail?

"Day-to-day, nothing changes," he goes on. "I'm still CEO. You have no responsibility unless you want it. Call it your insurance policy against your bastard husband."

Finally, it seems like he's finished his speech. And I don't know what to think. My mind is in absolute overdrive, bordering on overload. Part of me wants to punch him for doing something so ridiculous and foolish. The rest of me wants to tackle him to the blanket and kiss him until we're both breathless. I do neither. "So theoretically, if I sign this," I turn to the very last page to where I see my name printed just below a blank line. Christian's name and another line are beside them, "I could close your businesses, destroy everything you've worked for in your adult life, and ruin chances of every rebuilding even a fraction of it?"

I expect to see him frown or look even the least bit concerned about my words, but he has a grin on his face. "Theoretically, yes, you could," he says thoughtfully. "But you won't."

His voice is so full of confidence that it almost annoys me. I raise a challenging eyebrow. "How do you know, Christian? You broke my heart, took away everything I believed in... Now you're giving me all this power, you're not concerned that I'm going to take advantage of it as revenge?" I ask incredulously.

His eyes soften along with his smile. "Baby, you're a lot of things, but vindictive bitch isn't one of them," he says gently.

"How could you know that?" I demand. "I was gone for seven months, Christian, and even before that, you stopped trying to know me."

He rolls his eyes and bites his lips against a grin. "Ana, I know that, because I'm the vindictive one in this relationship. I'm ruthless, I'm cruel. I'm heartless. You're none of those things and you could never be. As for you destroying everything I've worked for..." He shakes his head, setting aside the folder to take my hands. "You are the last person in the world who would ever betray me. I've always known that, Anastasia. I should have been the last person in the world that would ever betray you. I could tell you again how sorry I am, but you're probably sick of hearing it—"

"Stop," I interrupt. "Enough with this being the worst person on the face of the planet shit, Christian. I mean it. I forgave you for the affair with Lucy. I'm trying to forgive you for everything that went on with you and Elena, but I can't do that if you're just running yourself down all the time. Everything you've said tonight..." I shake my head in wonder. "Christian, I've wanted to hear you say those things for years. And I desperately hope for the sake of our marriage that you're not just saying what you think I want to hear. I need you to mean every word."

"I do," he tells me firmly. "I've thought these things sporadically over the years, but I always dismissed them as bullshit. I get it now, Ana. I do. Please believe me."

I want to. God, do I ever want to... And I refuse to dwell on the subject of Elena and Lucy right now. Instead I think about what he's trying to give me. Despite our uncertain future together, he trusts me with everything he has. I want to be able to trust him as much. At one time, I did. I want to tell him this is a really bad idea, but at the same time I think this might be a good way to regain my trust for him. Right now I have no fucking clue how that might work out.

Fuck it.

"So do you have a pen in the basket somewhere?" I ask quietly.

His eyes widen and I have the feeling he didn't think I would actually agree to this. I watch him closely, half-expecting to take back the whole thing. He beams at me as he reaches for a pen in his pants pocket, holding it out to me.

"You're sure about this?" I ask him, trying to give him one more chance to rethink.

"The only thing I've been more certain about is when I asked you to marry me," he says with such certainty that I'm momentarily stunned. "I trust you, Anastasia. With everything I am, everything I have, and everything I will ever be."

The next thing I know, I'm signing my name on the line, fully aware that what started out as our second date, a night that was supposed to be carefree and romantic has turned into a business deal. I feel like we should stand, shake hands, and walk away from each other. I hand the papers back to Christian, not wanting to meet his eyes lest he see the tears building up in mine. It's a ridiculous reaction. I agreed to this. I could have told him no and we could have gone on with our dinner.

So now that you've signed that paperwork, you can't go on with your dinner? asks my subconscious.

"I realize I've blindsided you with this," Christian says, setting aside his folder and giving me his full attention. "It wasn't my intention—"

"So you've been carrying that paperwork around all week?" I ask wryly.

He smiles. "No. I meant to leave it in my study before our date, but you distracted me, and I forgot all about it. Please don't let this ruin our night."

When was the last time he used the word please so often in such a short amount of time when he knew there wasn't a chance the night would end with sex?

I sigh, turning back to the sunset only to realize the sun has gone down completely, replaced by a clear starry night. "What else do you have in that basket, Grey?" I ask him.

He grins, retrieving the piece of cake and two forks for us to share dessert. We take turns eating and it's not long before I forget about contracts and businesses. I'm determined to make this night count.

With cake and wine long gone, Ana and I are lying down on the blanket, side-by-side, staring up at the sky. The only parts of us that are touching are our arms, and that's surprisingly fine with me. I feel as though a weight has lifted off my shoulders. Every single person I've consulted to draw up this paperwork has tried to talk me out of it. They called me a fool and warned me of the repercussions of doing something like this. I fired them. I knew exactly what I was doing when I proposed the plan. I know exactly what the repercussions might be.

But as I told Ana, if I were to fuck up again thoroughly enough that she permanently left me, nothing would bring me back from that. I love my business and what I've turned it into; I love my family more. So fuck it. I've entrusted her with my life and well-being. She can do with it as she pleases. If she wants to shut everything down tomorrow, fine. As long as I still have her at my side, none of the rest of it fucking matters to me. I need to dedicate at least as much time to my marriage as I have my work.

Why does it always take Ana leaving me for me to have these breakthroughs?

I turn my head to look at her and smile. She's completely lost in thought, staring at the sky, and she's never looked more beautiful. I tell her that very thing and she turns her head to meet my eyes. She's smiling shyly at me again and any second she'll...

"I thought we discussed this, Anastasia," I murmur, reaching over to free her lip from her teeth. "Stop biting that lip."

"And if I don't?" she challenges with a raised eyebrow.

I know how I want to respond, but I'm not sure she'll appreciate it. When she slowly puts her lip back between her teeth, I find myself unable to hold back. With a growl, I move to hover over her, palms flat on either side of her head, knees hugging her hips. Her eyes have widened and she sucks in a sharp breath, but she makes no move to push me away. Encouraged, I bend my elbows until my lips are just above hers. For a second, we stare at each other, each trying to figure out the other's motives. Ana makes the first move: I feel one of her hands slide into my hair and pull me forward.

The kiss is amazing. Slow, sweet, sensual... Fucking sexy. When she groans softly, I deepen the kiss, our tongues entwining. I feel her free hand slide around my waist and pull me down on top of her. We're lost in each other, clueless of whatever might possibly be around us, and it is the best feeling in the world. It's one of those kisses that usually leads to something more heated and ferocious. I know it's not taking us there this time, and I'm fine with that. Not that I wouldn't approve of such actions. I just don't need it. I feel like we're reacquainting with one another. It's perfect.

I have no idea how much time has passed when we finally pull apart, and it doesn't matter. I rest my forehead against hers as we catch our breath before I open my eyes, finding hers shining back at me.

"Hi, Mrs. Grey," I say huskily.

She smiles back shyly. "Hi yourself, Mr. Grey." She squirms a little beneath me—whether it's intentional or not, I have no idea—and I feel a bolt of electricity shoot through my body.

When my eyes open—when the fuck did I close them?—she's looking at me in a way she hasn't in months. I know exactly what she's thinking right now. My erection is pressed against the apex of her thighs and all I want to do is grind against her for a bit of relief. It takes every ounce of self-restraint I have, and have ever had, to push myself away from her, leaving her looking confused and lost.

"What?" she asks breathlessly as I run my hands across my face to regain some of composure.

"Ana, we're not there yet," I say, trying to settle my throbbing hard-on. It's starting to get painful. "Believe me, I want this. And knowing you want this only makes me want it more. But I've been thinking about how we began and as incredible as the sex was, we didn't give ourselves much of a chance for anything else. You've forgiven me, and you'll never know how much that means to me, but I need your trust, too. And please, don't just tell me you trust me because you want me. I only have so much restraint and I'm trying to do the honorable thing here."

Like you should have done that night at the hotel bar when you saw Lucy?

Fuck off.

She sighs. "Okay," she agrees, sounding thoroughly disappointed. "You're right." She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "It's late. We should probably head inside..."

Oh god... I made her feel like I'm rejecting her. We pack up and head back to the house in silence. Here I was thinking I was being honorable and noble. She thinks I don't want her.

Well, there is a way to prove her wrong...

I walk her to her room, the silence between us almost as painful as what's going on in my pants. I have to grab her hand to stop her entering without talking to me. I try to think of what to say to her, to set her at ease that I've never wanted her more than I do right now. There really is only one thing that comes to mind...

I cup her neck, bringing her lips to meet mine, kissing her deeply, thoroughly, and as sexily as I can. She's once again pressed against me, this time with the door behind her. And once again, I manage to pull away from her. "Ana, please don't ever doubt how desperately I want you," I whisper into her ear, teasing the lobe with my teeth. "I just don't want you to regret what we do. I want you to be ready in every way possible."

She nods at my words, her eyes wide and her breathing heavy.

I smile. "Good night, baby," I whisper, placing one last kiss on her lips. "I love you."

Not until I'm entering my room do I hear her response: "I love you, too, Christian."

I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

Monday mid-morning is dragging along. I've been sitting in meetings all day and I'm just counting the seconds until I can go home. It's nearly lunchtime when my phone rings. I grab it without checking the caller id, desperate for a distraction from monotony.

"Grey," I snap.

"Christian."

My eyes widen and I nearly drop my phone. "Mom," I blurt in shock. "Is everything all right?"

I hear her chuckle. It's almost as welcome as Ana's giggle. "Everything's fine, sweetheart," she assures me. "I was wondering if you were free for lunch today."

"Of course I am." I'm actually not, but I have no problem rearranging my schedule for this.

"Good. I was thinking the Mile High Club. Shall we meet at 1:30?"

"Sounds perfect," I agree immediately.

"Okay. I'll see you then."

"Okay."

We hang up and I place my phone back on my desk, staring at it in complete shock. Lunch with my mother. Our first contact since she walked out of my home. I finally have my chance to apologize... I wanted this more than anything since then.

So why the fuck am I so nervous?