I don't remember the last time I slept so well. All night with my arms around my wife, her resting on my chest after hours of lovemaking. It was more than perfect.

Until I woke up. And realized I was alone in bed. And the side where Anastasia should have been was cold.

Fuck!

Had I dreamed the whole thing? My eyes snap open and I sit straight up in bed, desperately trying to figure out what was going on. I'm on The Grace. Okay, that much was true. But there was no sign of Ana. Panic grips heart; had she run while I was asleep? We are still docked, and it would have been easy to slip away in the middle of the night. I jump out of bed, my breathing shallow as I grab my jeans and yank them on as I rush up the stairs to the deck. But I pause, sliding across the floor on my bare feet as I catch movement in the kitchen. Leaning against the doorframe in utter relief, I take several minutes to just watch my wife who is wearing one of my shirts and what looks to be my boxer shorts as she hums and cooks breakfast. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail and her hips are swaying to whatever tune she's humming to herself. It's not long before I can't just stand here anymore and cross towards her in a few long strides, wrapping my arms around her waist. She jumps in surprise, but I ignore the reaction; she's here, in my arms, and last night was not a dream. I don't think I've ever been so grateful for something like that.

"Christian?" she asks quietly, turning in my arms and wrapping her arms around my waist. "What's wrong?"

I shake my head, fully aware that I'm shaking as I bury my head in her neck. To my relief, she doesn't press me immediately; she just holds me, which is exactly what I was looking for. When I'm confident that I'll be able to speak more than a few words, I pull away just enough to look into her eyes, then close the distance between our lips, kissing her softly, gratefully. Her fingers slide up my chest and into my hair as she holds me against her. I groan as I pull away, resting my forehead against hers. "Good morning, Anastasia," I say huskily, trying to smile at her.

"Good morning, Christian," she says breathily, her eyes still closed. "What was that for?"

"Do I need an excuse?" I ask teasingly, softly running my hands from her hips to the bottoms of her breasts. "I thought I was allowed to kiss you after last night."

"You are," she responds, her voice a little more high-pitched than normal. "I'm just a little surprised."

I smirk, unable to hold the expression for long. "When I woke up," I say in a low tone, "you weren't there... And I thought..."

Her brow furrows the little V between her eyebrows appearing. "You thought..." She trails off as though she's waiting for me to explain further, but I don't think I can voice my fears. Realization dawns on her face along with sympathy and slight annoyance. "You thought I was running."

I nod, unable to meet her gaze.

"Christian." Her voice is exasperated. "What is it going to take to convince you I'm not going anywhere?"

"Old insecurities," I murmur against her skin. "I'm sorry I doubted you, baby."

With a sigh, she rests her forehead against my heart. "It's okay," she whispers. A moment later, she tenses. "Is that why we stayed docked last night?" She pulls away, cocking her head to the side and narrowing her eyes at me. "Because you thought I was going to run?"

I shrugged. "I wanted to give you an option to leave if that's what you wanted," I tell her slowly. "I didn't think it would have been fair for us to be in the middle of nowhere only for me to ask you what I did and for you to say no, then have us stuck in close quarters until we got back here. Ana, I'm sorry I doubted you; I suppose I'll never get over the fear of losing you again. I need to learn to trust myself and you... I'm sorry."

She smiles gently. "It's okay," she says. "I'm sorry I freaked you out by getting out of bed. I just thought we might like some breakfast before we set sail."

"Absolutely." I finally manage a genuine smile and the residual anxiety from my less than pleasant wakeup is quickly fading away, replaced by desire. Looking in her eyes, I'd say she feels the same, but we're both rudely reminded that breakfast is cooking. Besides, Taylor and Mac will be joining us shortly—Taylor for a rundown of anything that needs running down; Mac for last minute boat preparations. So grudgingly, I release her and minutes later, we're back on deck having a lovely little breakfast of cheese omelets and fruit. Just as we're finishing up, Taylor and Mac arrive, and Ana excuses herself to shower. I'm disappointed to see her go for many reasons: I hate when she's away from me; I really don't feel like dealing with anybody else today; and she's about to get naked and wet for the first time since I've been allowed to touch her. I make a mental note to myself to insist on showering together as often as possible this weekend.

Taylor hasn't got any news aside from the announcement that Andrea contacted him to let me know that flight and lodging arrangements for London have been made. I nod stiffly and move on from the subject; the last thing I want to be thinking about this weekend is London and the reason for our return in a few weeks' time. Once he takes his leave, Mac and I get to work on preparing the boat for our trip. It takes us less than an hour before Ana and I are waving Mac off the boat, and headed back towards the wheel for departure. As I steer us out of the harbor, I glance over at Ana who's dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that hugs her body nicely. I'm not entirely certain how she expects me to concentrate on driving a boat with her wearing that, but I manage it. When I'm not focusing on her curves, I see she's got a big grin on her face and seems to be bouncing in place, something she undoubtedly picked up from Teddy when he's excited about something. I find I'm just as excited.

Out on open water, I gesture for Ana to join me at the wheel. She stands between it and me, and I have the opportunity to hold her as she steers us with my directions. There really isn't any other place I'd rather be right now. My wife and I are truly together again, we're out to sea, and we don't have to face the real world until tomorrow night at the very earliest. My arms are around her waist, my chin on her shoulder as she keeps us steady and I swear I could fall asleep standing up, I'm that comfortable.

"So are we going anywhere in particular, Mr. Grey?" she asks, turning her head towards mine.

I reluctantly straighten up. "I had a destination in mind," I reply evasively, grinning to myself. "We're only about an hour or so away from there now. I thought we'd have lunch."

She nods and smiles. "Sounds like good plan," she agrees.

I'm slightly surprised she isn't asking for more details, but I'm certainly not going to complain. The surprise I have in store for her popped into my mind last week and I honestly can't believe I haven't done this before. Compared to most of my other surprises, this one is relatively low-key, but I think it's something she will enjoy immensely. And I'll enjoy it for the simple fact that she'll be with me. So it works out for everyone.

I take over the steering as we get closer to the shoreline and I grin to myself as Ana makes her way to the bow of the boat, trying to get a closer look. Right now, we're looking at a tiny speck that up close isn't really much bigger. My excitement is building as I start to make out the trees that dot the tiny little island, though I'm not sure it's really big enough to qualify for island status. It's only about two miles from one end to the other, completely uninhabited, and is so easily dismissed by most people. Ana is looking at me curiously as I stop the boat as far from the shore as I dare before lowering the anchor.

"We'll take the dinghy to the shore," I tell Ana as I join her at the railing.

"That's where we're going?" she asks uncertainly.

I nod, smiling. "You game?" I challenge.

She raises an eyebrow at me. "Of course," she accepts.

"Good. Come. I'll grab our lunch if you want to grab the bag I packed in the bedroom."

"You packed a bag?" she asks as I lead the way below deck.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because."

I hear her huff in exasperation. "Christian, that's not an answer."

Stopping abruptly, I turn and grab her upper arms at avoid her running into me. "Why do you need an answer?" I ask her quietly, unable to refrain from bending down to nuzzle her neck a little. She shivers in response. "Can't you just trust me on this?"

She makes a sound that resembles a squeak, and I take that as an agreement that she'll stop questioning my plans. I place a small kiss on her forehead and we go about our respective duties. Within twenty minutes, I'm in knee-high water, pulling the dinghy ashore, my pants rolled up, though I have no delusions that they will stay dry, especially with the plans I have... I help Ana out and we walk up onto the beach where I anxiously take in her impression of our surroundings.

"Where are we?" she asks in a whisper.

"Well, if you look that way," I turn her towards the direction I'm indicating, "and swim several miles, you'll reach the Washington State coastline."

She turns to me, a small, incredulous smile on her face. "And how did you find it?"

My grin widens. "During Elliot's senior year in high school, our dad decided he wanted us to take a guys' weekend on the boat. I wasn't really all that interested in going," because I would have rather spent the weekend letting Elena beat the shit out of me, my mind adds. My good mood falters briefly, but with a look of encouragement from Ana, I continue. "But I didn't have much choice in the matter. Carrick found this place. We spent hours here exploring, fishing... lying on the beach and watching the orcas in the distance. When it came down to it, it was a really great weekend. Years later when I started boating on my own I decided to try and find it and it took ages, but here we are."

She smiles, closing the distance between us and running her hands up my chest again. I really like that feeling... "So this is our own private island, Mr. Grey?" she asks huskily, standing on tiptoe to press her lips against mine. I groan, pulling the rest of her into me and deepen the kiss. I'm very tempted to take her right here, right now, but I know it's not the right time for that.

Instead, I pull back, narrowing my eyes at her. "Would you like your own private island, Anastasia?" I ask quietly, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Her eyebrows shoot up in shock at my question. Hell, my own shoot up, but if she wants it, she can have it... "Um, no," she answers as thought she can't decide whether I'm kidding or not. "A private island isn't exactly on my list of worldly desires, but I admit that this is very nice."

Feeling incredibly proud of myself for making the right choice of activities for the day, I lean in to kiss her again. But just as my lips brush hers, I feel her shoulders beginning to shake and her lips twitching uncontrollably. I pull back immediately, wondering what it is I keep doing to make her laugh at me. "Something amusing?" I ask, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice. Her eyes are darting between me and something past me, and she jerks her chin, gesturing for me to look over my shoulder. I do so warily and immediately locate the source of her amusement. "Is that a fucking goat?" The question is rhetorical, because of course it's a fucking goat. What I don't understand is how it came to be here...

Our eyes widen and our amusement grows when a male goat exits the trees to join the female that's grazing the few blades of grass that line the beach. Ana is leaning against me in silent hysterical laughter as the male mounts the female. "No," she chokes out, "but that is a fucking goat." I join in on her laughter and we lower ourselves to the sand, turning away to give the two goats some modicum of privacy. I wrap her in my arms, pulling her into my lap, and we sit silently for some time, staring out at the ocean surrounding us. Nuzzling her neck, I let my hands wander a little, sliding up her shirt. As her breathing hitches, I let my lips move across her neck while the hand inside her shirt reaches her breast, teasing her through her bra. "The goats giving you ideas?" she asks breathily.

I stop my actions immediately, feeling her body shaking again as she turns to look at me, and I fight to keep my expression serious despite my next words: "No sexual acts involving animals," I say evenly. "It's a very hard limit for me, Anastasia."

Of course, this just sends her into further fits of laughter and we hear a noise behind us that seems to be the two goats retreating into the trees. "I think we interrupted them," Ana says shakily.

"Fucking goats," I say, grinning at her.

Reclining on a beach towel in a bikini beside Christian, I'm more relaxed than I've been in... I don't even know how long. I know a lot of my relaxation is a result of last night and us finally getting rid of all that sexual tension, as well as several other tensions, between us. Everything had been perfect, from dinner to dancing to a proposal I wouldn't have expected in a million years to everything that happened afterwards. I'd been nervous leading him to bed last night, more nervous than the first time we had sex. Then it had been nerves towards the unknown; last night it had been whether I would be able to go through with it after everything that's happened. The number of times I've thought about us together in bed again is countless, but almost every time I've thought about it, I've also thought about that fucking video. My biggest concern is that once we started getting hot and heavy, I'd have flashes of images that had no business being in my head and I wouldn't be able to go through with it. I don't know what that would have done to us and I never want to find out. It would be beyond devastating not only for him, but for me as well; I know something like that would end up ruining us for good. Why could Christian want to remain married to me if I couldn't satisfy his needs? Hell, he'd already shown me one of the possible end results and that's what has brought us to where we are today.

So to say I'm relieved that I didn't freak out the moment he touched me is the very epitome of understatement.

And it was good. So good. He was sweet and attentive and it was more than obvious how much he wanted me to enjoy us being together as he did. I'm not naïve enough to think the fact that neither of us has been with anybody for so long didn't play a part in our desperation—at least I hadn't; Christian says he hasn't, and I choose to believe him. The four times after that first coupling just went to show everything we've wanted and needed from each other. And I can't wait until we get back to the boat so we can go a few more rounds.

I turn my head to the right, finding Christian reclined on his own beach towel beside mine, his arms folded behind his head and his eyes closed. Then again... Deserted island, save a couple goats, hours alone with no other plans... This could definitely have its advantages.

"Are you smirking at me, Mrs. Grey?"

Suddenly, I'm jolted out of a very lovely daydream involving running my tongue across his bare, tan, very well-toned chest and see he's raised an eyebrow and cracked open one eye. "What if I am?" I ask defiantly.

Both his eyes open, sparkling at me. "Then I'll just have to teach you a lesson," he murmurs sleepily.

I raise my own eyebrow challengingly. "And just how do you think you'll be doing that, Grey?"

After all this time of knowing Christian Grey, I still never truly realize just how fast his reflexes are; before I can really work out what's happening, he's standing with me struggling in his arms and we're walking towards the water. The very cold water. "Christian, don't you dare," I warn him.

He only grins in response to my protests and threats. Water is lapping his shins and I'm still fighting to get him to put me down. There is only one way for this to end and I'm already plotting my revenge as he takes us waist deep into the water and sinks down, still holding onto me tightly, so that we're both submerged for no longer than a few seconds. But the damage is done: I'm wet and freezing cold. Despite that, the look of happiness, smugness, and playfulness on Christian's face doesn't let me remain annoyed at him for long. I don't remember the last time we played around like this—we're splashing each other, I'm trying to tackle him into the water. He grabs me around the waist and throws me into deeper water; I surface and glare, sputtering water as he laughs loudly. We carry on like this a little longer before I finally call an end to playtime by telling him I'm hungry; he immediately leads me out of the water towards our towels where he very thoughtfully packed extras. Sweetly and tenderly, Christian ignores his own dripping wet body that's probably as cold as mine, wrapping me in one towel while he dries my hair with another. He finishes his task by pressing his lips against mine briefly. Before I can even consider deepening the kiss, he pulls away to dry himself, then opens a cooler he'd placed off in the shade of the trees earlier.

Lunch is wonderful. At first I'm impressed with Christian's apparent cooking prowess—I'd expected peanut butter and jelly, but got grilled chicken salad—until I realized what had happened. He grinned sheepishly when I asked him whether Gail had prepared and Taylor had delivered. "I selected the wine, though," he proclaims defensively.

I laugh and congratulate him on his defeat.

"How's your weekend going so far, Mrs. Grey?" he asks when we're reclined on his towel after we've eaten.

I sigh contentedly, snuggling further into him. "Perfectly," I tell him honestly, feeling a little surprised for some reason. Did I actually think Christian would ever not plan out every moment of this weekend to perfection? No. But at the same time, we're both dealing with some pretty big issues, mostly involving the other. We're in the midst of getting to know each other again, learning to trust each other again, learning to love each other again, and I suppose I thought it would be more difficult than it has been. I'm not a fool. I know going home will renew the demons we left behind, especially when we head off to London for Lucy's trial. None of that has followed us here and I don't want that to change.

Christian rolls so that I'm on my back and he's leaning over me. "What are you thinking?" he murmurs, concern lacing his tone.

Hesitating, I swallow, not wanting to ruin our moment. "Just that I've been so happy lately and I don't want to see it end," I tell him, knowing I can't lie.

His brow furrows deeply. "Then you won't see it end," he tells me simply. "Ana, I will make every day of the rest of your life more perfect than the last. I know you're still skeptical and you will remain so for however long it takes for you to trust me again. And I know I've said it before, but I will repeat it until my last breath if I have to: I love you, Anastasia. I don't deserve you and I don't know what the fuck you're doing with a piece of shit like me, but I will never let you go again. I will never put us in a position that makes you want to leave. I've developed a whole new level of appreciation for you and I will show you every day how much it means to me that you've given me another chance and how much I love you." He smiles hesitantly. "Baby, I couldn't have asked for a better weekend. Last night was..." He trails off, his smile growing as he shakes his head as though he can't quite decide if he's been dreaming or not. "Last night was more perfect than I could have ever wanted. And I'm not just referring to the sex—though that in itself was mindblowingly amazing. I don't know when we lost the spark between us, but I feel like it's coming back and I will do everything within my power to make sure it stays."

I bite my lip very briefly. "It is coming back," I tell him cautiously. "I'm trying to get it back, too, and we're getting there, but there are still things I'm trying to come to terms with and it will take time and patience, on both our parts."

He nods gravely. "I understand," he tells me quietly. And I really think he does understand. "I just hope you won't give up on me when I'm being difficult."

Somehow I bite back my laughter. "Christian," I say patiently, reaching up to cup his cheek. He leans into my touch. "If I was going to give up on you when you were being difficult, I never would have given you my virginity."

His eyes widen in surprise at my words before they narrow in an attempt of a glare. "Is that so?" he asks evenly, pushing himself up so he's straddling my thighs. "And do you really think for one second that I would have taken no for an answer when it came to you?"

"Considering all your stalker tendencies, I'd have to say I probably would have needed a restraining order."

He huffs a laugh. "Baby, no fucking piece of paper would have stopped me," he says arrogantly. I roll my eyes. He raises an eyebrow. I freeze. "Did you just roll your eyes at me?" Both his tone and gaze have darkened, and I know whatever comes next will not involve him dragging me into cold water.

"No?" I attempt hopefully, though if I'm honest, I can't say I wouldn't welcome his reaction to my eye-rolling.

"I think you're lying, Mrs. Grey," he whispers before crushing his lips against mine. I groan into his mouth and he takes the opportunity for his tongue to invade my mouth, battling my tongue while I grasp his bare back for dear life. He nestles against me and my legs move to wrap around his thighs, holding him closer. He moans throatily and I feel him hardening. For the very briefest of moments, I realize of all the things Christian and I have done, all the places we've made love, it's never happened on a beach. Sex on the beach; I think I like the sound of that...

But apparently Christian doesn't agree. He tears himself away from me, panting heavily. "Not here, baby," he whispers.

I counter by pressing my hips into his, causing him to suck in a sharp breath. "Yes here," I respond, fisting my hands in his hair and pulling him back down to me again.

After the longest shower we've ever had together to get sand out of places where sand has no business being, Ana and I have a light dinner and curl up on a lounger on deck to watch the sun set and the stars appear. I still can't get over the memory of her practically forcing herself on me while we lay in the sand, in broad daylight. Normally I'd be paranoid about someone seeing us, but other than the two goats—for whom Ana insisted we leave a few of our leftovers from lunch—neither of us had seen any other living beings in hours. It had been another first for us—sex on the beach, if it could really be called a beach—and one that I wouldn't mind exploring again. Soon.

The image of Ana forcing me onto my back, then straddling me as she removed her bikini followed quickly by my beach shorts is one I'll keep with me for the rest of my life. Along with the feeling of how eagerly she slid me into her and began to move. I can't help feeling she used me a little for her own satisfaction. And if felt fucking amazing. She is fucking amazing. I can't wait until I get the chance to speak new vows to her, making her my wife again. Making me her husband again.

"What are you thinking?"

Her question is whispered against my skin. I shiver slightly, pulling her closer to me. "How lucky I am," I murmur back, reaching for her left hand so I can kiss the finger where my ring is sitting. I wonder if she's noticed I'm wearing my wedding band. I haven't taken it off since the day she put it onto my finger, and all at once, I feel like a world-class bastard again. It takes a real piece of shit to wear his wedding ring throughout a five-month affair like he wasn't destroying everything he once considered sacred.

Never again.

"Have you thought about what you might want to do for a ceremony?" I ask, refusing to bring down the mood.

She turns in my arms with raised eyebrows. "Christian, it's been twenty-four hours," she says in a patient voice I've heard her use with our son. "And in those twenty-four hours, many of them have been spent with me unable to think of anything or anybody else but you." I smirk proudly at her words. "Though since you've brought it up, I do like the idea of keeping it simple. You, me... Some witnesses... Who do you think we should pick?"

I sigh. My thought automatically shifts to family—Elliot, Kate, Mia, my parents, Ana's parents—but I'm pretty sure the moment Ana mentions this remarriage to any of them, they'll do whatever it takes to talk her out of it, or at least refuse to be part of it. Our family is almost as protective of my wife as I am, and I know right now they're all rallying behind her after what I did to her. As they should... "We can think about it," I murmur, realizing I haven't given her an answer. "When do you want to do this?"

She sighs this time, which means she's at least thought about it since last night, despite what she says. "I suppose you'll want to do it as soon as possible?" she questions.

"Well, of course," I say as thought it should be obvious. Which it should be: the only thing that kept us from eloping to Vegas the first time round had been my mother's wish to plan the first wedding of her children—and god knows she never thought it would be mine she would have been planning. "Why, what did you have in mind?"

She turns so that she's facing me completely, looking hesitant and slightly afraid. "What would you think about waiting until the trial is over?" she asks in a small voice. I feel myself tense and go cold. "Before you go into full panic attack, I'm not suggesting this because I think there's something that might change my mind. I just don't want this hanging over us when we do this. If we wait until it's over, then we can truly start anew and we'll never have to look back."

Logically, I know it's a very good suggestion. She's right: once Lucy and Elena were out of our lives, we'll be able to remarry and, like Ana says, begin anew and never look back. Still, there's part of me that says she's looking for a loophole, that while we're in London, in a courtroom with my ex-mistress, and she hears something that changes her mind, she can still run without having made any sort of renewed commitment to me. "Okay," I hear myself agreeing. "After the trial." The old part of me that I've managed to bury under six feet of concrete and inside a combination safe held shut with heavy steel chains and padlocks curses me for not demanding that things go my way. It's becoming easier and easier to ignore that part of me; that part of me contributed to me having an affair and losing my wife. If we're to have a successful new chance at this, I really have to set aside my fears and insecurities, and trust what she says. She's not looking for an out to run as far from me as possible. She wants to remarry me. Hell, she's wearing my ring...

I won't lose her this time.

She seems skeptical of my response, but eventually relaxes against me and we're once again lost in our thoughts. Mine are surprisingly pleasant, despite my previous ones. I'm looking forward to another full day with my wife, trying not to think about our impending return to reality and our normal lives. It'll be easier than it's been, though, now that we've leapt another hurdle in rebuilding our relationship, and I'm starting to feel like I can get back my life the way it's meant to be.