Christian will be back in any minute with his sister. Although he has yet to actually acknowledge that this girl is his sister. I hope he isn't too harsh with her. My husband is a wonderful man, but it is no secret that he can be cruel when his guard is up. Cruel is the wrong word. But he definitely has a hard time opening up to people. But I think this could be good for him. Maybe it will be a chance for him to finally reconcile with his past.
I've gone a little bit crazy with decorating the guest room for Emily. I have no idea what she likes, so I didn't make it too girly or silly. But I changed the white bedding to something pastel and floral. I set up a vanity with several mirrors, stocked up on toiletries and make-up, and hung white Christmas lights on the walls.
"She isn't going to be here for that long," Christian huffed when he first saw the room.
Christian keeps trying to pretend that his sister isn't going to be a long-term thing, yet he stocked her closet with clothes personally picked out by Caroline Acton. Of course he was able to obtain her height and weight to determine her size. Her room is already more than any sixteen year old girl could ever want. I just keep remembering that this isn't any sixteen year old girl. If she's anything like Christian…well we'll have our work cut out for us.
I'm setting the dinner table when I hear the elevator doors open. I know Michigan is three hours ahead of us, so it's almost 9 o'clock there, but I figured they might still be hungry. I rush into the foyer to greet them and stop dead in my tracks. She looks exactly like Christian.
Emily is easily one of the best looking sixteen year olds I have ever seen. Her hair is a perfect cross between auburn and brown and hangs about halfway down her back. She has olive skin and the same grey eyes as Christian. She's tall and thin, and it's quite obvious that they're related.
"Emily," I smile, "It's so great to meet you."
I think about hugging her, but I decide to stay where I am. If she's anything like Christian, I don't want to force physical contact with her.
Christian stares at me and for a second I think he might cry. But then he smiles and crosses the room over to me.
"Emily," he starts, "this is my wife, Anastasia." He says this while smiling down at me and I can't help but blush. Oh god, we're going to need to tone this down with a high schooler living under the same roof.
"Nice to meet you," Emily says shyly. She makes eye contact with me and gives a small smile.
"Are you a hungry? Gail made grilled chicken with salad. Emily you'll have to tell me what you like to eat," I say. I realize I'm rambling a bit, but I'm nervous.
"Chicken is fine," Christian snaps, before his sister even has a chance to answer.
I elbow him on the side. Be nice Christian!
"Chicken is great!" Emily yells awkwardly, and I can feel the nerves rolling off of her. I will need to tell Christian not to intimidate her like that. It's wrong.
We move into the dining room and Emily looks at all the chairs. I can sympathize with her.
"Why don't you sit here," I suggest, pulling out a chair next to my usual spot.
She smiles gratefully at me.
Gail comes in carrying a plate of chicken.
"Ms. Freedman, it's great to finally meet you. I'm Mrs. Jones," Gail smiles warmly. She sticks her hand out and Emily takes it cautiously.
"Gail cooks for us and maintains the apartment," Christian explains like it is the most nonchalant thing in the entire world. I don't think he realizes how wealthy he truly is.
I see a look of disgust cross Emily's face for a second, but I don't take it personally. From what Christian has found out, she's lived in poverty for her entire life. This is a lot to take in.
We sit down for dinner and everyone is on edge. Emily barely touches her food and it is clear to see that she is uncomfortable.
"There's a big difference between playing with your food and actually eating it," Christian states, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.
"I'm aware," Emily snaps, glaring at him.
"So then stop behaving like a child and eat your dinner," Christian says, putting down his fork.
"Christian," I start, but he puts his hand up to silence me. Christian! She's afraid of you. I can't blame her for not eating.
"I'm not hungry," Emily states matter-of-factly, and I can see Christian turn red.
"I don't care," he says, through his clenched teeth.
"Okay then," Emily says, throwing her napkin down on her plate and standing up.
"Excuse me?" Christian says, standing up as well. He's towering over her and I can see he is furious.
"Christian, calm down. It's her first night," I say, touching his arm. He calms a little.
"If you don't care, then it shouldn't matter that I'm done eating. Tell your housekeeper that I said thanks," Emily snaps, and it's easy to hear the venom dripping in her voice.
She shoots Christian another dirty look before storming out of the room. Oh, Fifty.
Emily Freedman P.O.V.
I was planning on locking myself in my room, but then I realized that I have no idea where I'm staying. They forgot to give me the grand tour before dinner. I think it would ruin my dramatic exit if I went back inside and asked if they could show me to my room. Maybe I should just go for a walk.
"Ms. Freedman," a voice calls as I walk towards the elevator. I see the same man that flew with Christian and I on the plane. Taylor, I think.
"Um..hi," I say, almost guiltily.
"Mr. Grey has asked that I show you to your room," he says, all business. I can tell he's a little uncomfortable with this request. Aren't we all uncomfortable in the presence of Mr. Grey?
"I was actually going to just go for a walk," I say, still staring at the elevator doors.
"I'm afraid you are not permitted to leave at this time, ma'am," he explains, and I feel my face turn red. Now I'm just angry.
"What are you? Christian's little minion?" I snap, although nothing about him is little. He looks like an assassin.
"I'm Mr. Grey's personal security. I'd be happy to show you to your room," he says, his voice almost pleading with me. I almost feel bad for him. He has to deal with My Asshole Brother all the time.
"Fine," I mumble, turning to follow him up the stairs.
This is all too much. The apartment is bigger than any home I've ever been in. My room is decorated beautifully, and it all just feels so wrong. I would never be able to afford any of the things in here. It almost makes me feel guilty for how I behaved at dinner.
But Christian was the one that started it. I wasn't hungry. The food was good, but it ruined my appetite thinking about how expensive the silverware I was eating with probably was. It's not like I hate rich people. I mean, I guess Christian's the first one I've ever really known. And I don't even know him. I guess I just don't understand them. I don't understand how a person can live like this while there are other people in the world who can't afford to pay for their groceries.
I lay down on the bed and groan into the pillow. The duvet is thick and soft and probably cost more than my entire bed at home. And yet I've never felt so uncomfortable. I had never needed my shitty apartment more in my entire life. I would do anything to feel my springy mattress underneath me. There is a knock on the door and I think about yelling for the visitor to "fuck off." But I decide against it.
"Emily?" I hear Ana call from the other side of the door. "Can I come in?"
"Um…sure," I say, although I'm completely unsure of this entire deal.
She hesitantly opens the bedroom door and awkwardly stands in the doorway. She looks uncomfortable. Good, she knows how I feel. I push myself up and sit against the pillows.
"Is it alright if I sit?" she asks, as if it's the most important question she'll ever ask.
"I mean yeah, it's your bed," I tell her, and try to keep the attitude out of my voice. So far, she's the only sane one in this house. I probably shouldn't piss her off. Then again, she is married to Christian Grey. How sane can she really be?
"I'm sorry about the way your brother acted," Ana starts. I open my mouth to speak but then decide to shut it. "He's just having a really hard time with this. He's had a rough past and sometimes it's difficult for him to have any reminders of that."
I don't say anything. What I really want to do is tell Christian to get off his high horse. I can almost guarantee that what I dealt with for sixteen years is worse than what he dealt with for four years of his life. I want to say that I'm the one who lost her father, even if he was The Asshole. I'm the one that had to leave my entire life behind. And on top of that all, I've had to learn about my brother and how he has enough money to purchase a small country. But I don't say any of that.
"It's okay," I murmur. Wow Emily, way to have a fucking back bone. You really told her how you feel.
"No, it's not. I can't imagine how hard this has been on you. I won't try to pretend that I understand it. But I just want you to know that you have me. And although it may take him some time, you have Christian," Ana says, putting her hand on my arm.
I flinch and immediately feel guilty when I see her face fall.
"Sorry, habit," I murmur, feeling embarrassed.
"No, I should have kept my hands to myself," she laughs, like this is a completely normal occurrence. I don't know whether to be grateful or offended. But human touch is one thing I absolutely cannot handle. It hurts too much.
"Well, I'll be in the library if you need me. It's down the hall and to the left. I'll have to give you a full tour tomorrow," Ana says, smiling at me. She pushes herself off the bed and heads toward the door.
"Ana?" I say quietly.
She turns towards me with her hand on the doorknob.
"Just tell Christian I'm sorry. And that you guys have already done more than enough for me, so I'm sorry that I ruined dinner," I say hesitantly.
Ana smiles sadly for a second. "Of course." And then she's gone.
I lay down on the bed and for what seems like the first time in forever, I really cry. And I don't mean a few tears. I let out actual sobs that shake my body. I know I'm being loud, but for once, I can't bring myself to care. This is all too much. This is all too much. This is all too much.Why is this happening to me?
I wake up in the morning with tears still on my face. That was the first time I have ever actually cried myself to sleep. For once, I can't remember my dreams. It's better than the usual nightmares. His hands, my muffled screams, a dog running through a yard, the pain. Stop it, Emily. Don't go there. Don't do this to yourself. That's behind you now. Be thankful.
I get up and go into the bathroom attached to the guest room. My reflection makes me cringe. I literally look like hell. My eyes are swollen and my hair is all over the place. I actually can't remember the last time I looked this bad. I turn on the shower and stay in there for way longer than I need to. The water pressure here is better than anything I've ever experienced. The shower is filled with fancy shampoos and conditioners, and when I finish drying my hair it falls in soft waves down my back. I never knew expensive hair products actually worked.
I decide to actually look at the clothes in the closet. I feel my jaw drop when I turn on the light. I have never seen so many articles of clothing for one person in my life. And to make matters worse, this is stuff I would actually wear. I decide to wear a comfortable looking t-shirt dress that's the same color as my eyes.
I typically don't wear make up, but I decide to apply cover up to the red marks around my eyes. There, at least I look like a normal human being. I walk downstairs and see Mrs. Jones standing in the kitchen. I still can't get over the fact that they have someone to cook for them.
"Good morning Ms. Freedman," she says warmly.
"Hi," I say awkwardly. "Do you need me to help you with anything?"
"Oh no, dear. I'm fine," she smiles, and laughs a little to herself. Something tells me that Christian has probably never once offered to help her in the kitchen. The idea actually makes me laugh.
"Would you like some French toast? It's Mr. Grey's favorite," Mrs. Jones tells me, as if I should care what his favorite breakfast food is.
"I'll just get myself some cereal," I say a little too quickly. She looks a bit shocked. "Sorry, I'm just not a big breakfast person," I explain, hoping to minimize any pain I just inflicted. I need to learn to be nicer. Good thing my brother is such a great role model.
I'm sitting at the breakfast bar eating Captain Crunch when Christian comes down the steps. He smiles at Mrs. Jones and gives me a nod before accepting a plate of French Toast. He looks at me hesitantly before he sits down next to me. It's not like I'm going to bite.
"Did you sleep well?" he asks, in a way that sounds like he could actually care less how I slept.
"Yes, thank you," I say quietly, starring down at my cereal bowl.
"Emily, I'm sorry if I was too hard on you last night," he finally says. I turn to look at him and he actually looks sincere.
"Oh…um, it's okay," I tell him, because what else am I supposed to say to that. The truth is, I was just as cold as he was. Something tells me that Christian and I will continue to get under each other's skin quite often.
Christian looks at me for a second and snorts. I look over at him and see him smiling to himself. Is there something wrong with me?
"What?" I asked, confused. But he keeps on laughing to himself and shakes his head. How annoying.
"I'm very confused right now," I tell him, trying to fight back a smile. I don't know why, but something about his laughter right now is contagious.
"You couldn't have slept that well," he finally says, taking a bite of his French Toast.
What an odd statement. "What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, slightly weirded out by his comment.
He laughs to himself again before turning to look at me, still smiling.
"You look so bad," he finally, snickers.
I can practically feel my jaw hit the floor. Dick! But before I can even get mad, I feel myself laughing too.