A/N: Oh, I know y'all hate me but I had terrible writer's block when it came to this story. I've been struggling with this update for weeks. I had to give up for a bit and read a few books to clear my head. I still didn't like where the story was finally taking me and I fought it and fought it but in the end I didn't win. At least you have more than one chapter coming your way.

Chapter 18

"Shit. I definitely should have called you," he says playfully. Then, patient but resigned, he asks, "What do you want to know?" We're walking to the living room where he proceeds to sit down.

"Tell me about your mother and why you feel she messed you up."

The sigh that issues from the man is so loud and melodramatic that it's comical. "Do you know that I've been in continuous therapy since I was five years old? All because of one woman. Talking about her is probably the worst thing for me, except possibly when I'm with my therapist who can guide me through the treacherous minefield that was my early childhood."

I say nothing but my stony expression tells him that I'm resolute.

He leans back into the sofa and swings his lanky leg up, ankle resting across his knee (a man's way of taking up as much space as possible). "How about I tell you what I'm minimally comfortable sharing and you're not allowed to ask questions? Sound fair?"

"No, of course it doesn't…"

He crosses his arms and his face loses all traces of good humor.

"…but if it's the best you'll do," I hurriedly continue, "then I suppose it's better than nothing."

His features relax. "Good. So… Grace is not my biological mother. Before my father married her, he was married to the woman who gave birth to me." He spews it all out as if it's a rehearsed spiel that he needs to get out quickly and move on.

"What was your mother's name?"

"Catherine. At least that was her born name. After she and my father divorced, she changed her name to Renee and moved out of the country." His eyes shift down to the floor, refusing to meet mine. "Anyway, my mother hated me, causing my father to divorce her and find me a new mother. But for the first five years of my life, I had to endure this wretched woman who should never have had children. It scarred me indelibly."

He pauses and finally looks me in the eye. The whole time he was speaking of his mother, he was looking away. I gaze into those enchanting eyes and wonder what the rest of the story is. He's not telling.

"Okay. That's it."

Hmmm. I guess that's all I'm getting for the moment. I'll let it go for now but he's still not off the hook. "So you didn't take my calls or call me while you were away because you wanted to back off? This after you traveled all the way to Milan to get me. How does that make any sense, Christian?" I kick him lightly with my sock-encased foot.

"That's just it, Ana. None of it makes sense. I'm trying to figure it all out. And just to clarify: I didn't want to back off, as you say. I just thought it was a good time—since my business trip had forced us apart—to think, without the distraction of our…" He doesn't finish the sentence.

He did not just say that. I'm a distraction? Fortunately for him there's nothing very handy to send flying in his general direction.

"A distraction, huh?" The more words that come out of his mouth, the more my blood is getting up. Truth to tell, I want to kick him. I turn my back on him to collect myself. He's up off the couch and on me in a second.

"Ana, what? What's the matter?" His tone is clipped, almost as if he's annoyed.

I spin around, taking him by surprise, my eyes probably giving me away. "What's the matter, you ask? Why don't you just leave now and you can have all the time you need to think? Get out, Christian. Now."

"Is that what you want?" His tone was challenging.

The truth hits me like a smack in the face: he doesn't care about me… or us. He's doing this on purpose, riling me up to get me to walk away from him so he doesn't have to do it himself. That's the sense I'm getting and I'm not sure if it makes me angry or so very sad.

"Ana, look, I'm sorry if I said something to upset you. I didn't mean to…"

"Christian, everything you've said since you phoned me has upset me. Now I'm done listening. I'm sorry you feel uncertain or whatever it is you feel about getting involved with me… or maybe that's not even it. Maybe it's something else entirely. I don't know. Either way, no one, even the most confident person on earth, wants to be continually rejected and I'm definitely no exception."

I look at him, keeping my eyes stuck on him for his maximum discomfort. He is so not getting off easy. "I want you to leave and I don't think I want you to contact me again. You're not good for me… I'm not going to keep bleeding for you, do you hear?" I know I may be going too far but I can't seem to stop myself. My voice is rising in pitch and I feel the tears approach inexorably. Fuck! I hate that.

"Ana, you're overreacting. Please calm down."

Does he not know that the very worst thing someone can say to a person whose rage is on the upswing are the words calm down? I mean, everyone knows that. Except maybe police officers.

"Grrrrr!" I stalk over to the door and fling it open. "Out. Now."

He got what he came for. He grabs his jacket off the back of a chair where he'd slung it when he walked in. Then he walks out without another word, without another look my way. I slam the door behind him.

The loud noise reverberates throughout the empty room. For about five seconds it feels good—I feel strong. Then for the next five seconds I pretend I'm fine with how things went… that I stood up for myself… and that he was only toying with my affection.

But the cold, ugly truth that I'm forcing back with all I'm worth is that I'm horrified with what I've just done and I suspect I may have pushed him away forever. Maybe he was just scared of commitment and trying to work through it.

Try though I might to be brave and strong in the face of severe heartbreak, I can't stop the tears from spilling and I weep myself into a blasting headache and burning, swollen eyes. That's the moment when I hear my cellphone tinkling. The ringtone I selected sounds like glass wind chimes. I lunge up from the floor where I've sunk in my misery, snatching it just before it goes to voicemail. Hoping, hoping, hoping it is Christian. Please God, please let it be. Give me another chance.

"Hello?"

"Ana?"

Not Christian. My heart sinks at least a foot.

"Yes, this is Ana." I don't recognize the voice at all. "Who's calling please?"

"You don't remember your own husband's voice? It's Hans, Ana. How are you?"

"Hans? Rehnquist? Is this really you?" I ask, sniffling quietly so he won't hear.

"Yes, Ana. I'm so pleased to have your number. My mother and sister tried to find you before they left the U.S. but had no luck. Joline thought for sure she'd find you on Facebook but do you how many Steeles there are with some spelling variation of Ana?"

"So my attorney tells me you're all in Australia. Is that right?"

"Yes… and I understand you want a divorce."

The way he said it makes me feel embarrassed but I have no idea why. It's not as if we're really married. "An annulment," I clarify. "I don't how much you've been told about what happened to me but the short of it is, yes, I want the annulment that never went through to proceed—and quickly."

"Are you planning to marry again, Ana? Is that why?"

"No!" I realize my answer is unnecessarily sharp. "Um, Hans, I need to do it for many different reasons."

"Is it at all possible for you to make a trip to Australia to see me? I can't get a visa to come to the U.S."

"Uh, I'm really not sure, Hans. It's not around the corner, you know. It's a big time commitment, not to mention financial."

"Yeah, I know. That's the reason for this phone call. I realized that making your visit here a condition of my signing the legal paperwork was not really fair. Still, it would be so grand…who knows? I might be able to talk you out of the divorce."

"It's an annulment. Look, let me see what I can do, Hans. But I'd still like you to sign the decree or whatever it is my attorney wants you to sign, regardless of whether or not I manage to get there."

"So I can't change your mind, huh? Okay, Ana, I will. My mom and sister would be so happy to see you also, you know. They hated leaving everything and everyone behind to join me here."

"Yes, I can see how they would. God, it's been a long time."

"Too long."

"Yes, well… I'll call you back in a few days, okay, Hans? Can I reach you at this number?"

"Yes, Ana. It's my cell. Tell me something first: are you still as beautiful as you were when we married?"

I muster a nervous chuckle. "A little older but pretty much the same girl, Hans. I'll call you soon."

"I bet you're blushing right now, aren't you?" he says in a teasing voice. "Okay. Until we speak again. Bye, Ana."

...

Four long days. That's how much time has passed since I had my hissy fit and threw Christian out of my apartment. In all that time, I haven't heard a peep—not a call, not a text. Zero.

I've had plenty of time to think and none of what's been flowing through my mind is good. It seems to me that whenever things are looking up between us, one of us does something to sabotage it. This time it was both: first he started it with his need to think and pull back, and then I handily finished it with my temper tantrum. Unfortunately, it might be truly finished this time around.

I know it's my own insecurities that keep eroding my confidence in Christian's interest in me. I mean, it seems so inexplicable: a man like Christian can get any woman any time. Why on earth would he choose me? That's what I don't get and why I can't be confident in his affection. Then of course he goes and makes things even shakier by telling me he needs time to think… what did he expect me to say? Oh, okay, take all the time you need to decide if I'm good enough for you then.

Still, as angry as I work myself up to being when I dwell too long on the last conversation, I know in my gut that I overreacted… massively. I should have let it slide, given him a hug, and shown him why he shouldn't need to think anymore. Instead, I gave him all the more reason to back off.

And he took it and ran.