A/N: One more to go after this. I'm pretty certain chapter 46 will close the book. Stay tuned...

Chapter 45

"Ana! Oh my God, it's been weeks since I heard your pretty voice. What have you been up to, and are you coming home anytime soon?"

"Hi, Mom. Um, well, I don't know where to start."

"Uh oh. Am I going to be unhappy by the end of the next sentence?"

I laugh as my stomach does a jaunty little flip. "I hope not. Just listen, OK?"

"I'm all ears. Shoot."

Now that I have her attention, where to begin? Do I tell her about Hans? About the whole escort thing but make it funny rather than terrifying? I clear my throat to stall, deciding moms don't need to know everything. Lead with the most important so that comparatively everything else seems minor. "So Mom… ever hear of Christian Grey?"

"Christian Grey? Christian Grey. Hmm. The name sounds familiar. Should I know it?"

"Not unless you read Forbes or the Wall Street Journal. Or you live in Seattle, which you don't."

"Oh. Is that the man you've been photographed with? A friend of mine sent me a clipping of you on the arm of someone famous. You looked spectacular. I left you a message on your phone."

"You mean you sent me a text, right?"

"That's what I said."

"No, you said you left me a message, which implies that you left a voicemail. If you did, I didn't get it."

"No, I typed you a note and sent it to your phone. What's the difference?"

"The difference is a big one. I thought I might have missed a voicemail… I did get a text from you, though…"

"Ana, for heaven's sake, will you just get to the point and tell me what you have to tell me before I perish from the suspense?"

I laugh because Christian has said basically the same thing to me more than once. I'm easily distracted, I guess. "Right, well, I got your text, but honestly life has been sort of crazy lately. I'm sorry I've been a bad daughter."

"Well, I think I can forgive you. Probably. Depends what you're going to tell me."

"What friend? Sent you the clipping?"

"I doubt you remember her. Sally Ronson? She lives in Spokane now. Used to live up the road from us. So… stay on track. Who is Christian Grey?"

"He's a hotshot CEO here in Seattle, but he's nationally known in financial circles."

"Oh my God, I know exactly who he is. I knew the name sounded familiar. I was reading an article about him in a magazine in my doctor's office. Very handsome and so young for such a successful man. Do you know him, Ana?"

"Yes, Mom, I do. Very well. I've just agreed to become his wife."

"His what? Ana, are you nuts? You're only twenty-two, for God's sake. That's way too young to get married."

My mother's ditzy spells make me roll my eyes on a continuous loop. "Mom, I'm about to turn twenty-four."

"Oh, that's right."

"Weren't you twenty-six when you married Dad?"

I hear her exasperated sigh—she hates when I turn things around on her. "Yes, but I want so much for you, honey."

"Ma, trust me, I won't be deprived of anything as Christian's wife."

"How did you even meet a man like that, Ana?"

"It was a chance encounter in a restaurant. As a matter of fact, it was the night of our graduation party and you were supposed to be there. Remember?"

"Don't make me feel guilty, sweetie. Your sister had been in a car accident."

"I wasn't trying to make you feel guilty… I was just saying…"

"How long have you known him, Ana? I mean, when did you actually start dating him? You've never mentioned him or any serious boyfriend before."

How long have we been dating? There was so much time apart but I really don't have to tell my mother that, now do I?

"Ana?"

"I'm counting, Ma. Give me a chance; I only have ten fingers. Well, it seems like a lot longer but it's a year and seven… almost eight months. We began seeing each other shortly after we first met."

"And in all that time you've never even mentioned him. Why? Seems to me if you were getting that serious you might have let slip a little to your mother—you know, the woman who gave birth to you, ruined her figure for you, lost sleep for years for you…"

I roll my eyes. This never gets old for her. "I didn't mention him because we were off and on for a while… I wasn't sure it was going to last, Mom."

"Now you are?"

"Yes, now I am. He asked me to marry him."

There's a long pause but I can hear her breathing so I knew she's there—just chewing it all over. Finally… "So… when is this wedding supposed to take place?"

"We haven't set the date yet but I wanted to check with you and Dad to find out what's a good time for you to travel here."

"I'll have to check with your father—he's not home right now. As for me, my schedule is wide open and I'll be happy to come help you plan it… if I can't talk you into postponing it for at least a couple of years."

"You can't, Mom. Christian just spent some time and effort talking me into it. And guess who's designing my dress?"

"Who?"

"The famous couture designer Kent Gable."

"Oh, that's the man with you in the photograph! Ana, how it that you're meeting these kinds of people? What in God's name have you been up to?"

My face burns as hot as a pancake griddle. If only she knew, but trust her to get close without even realizing it. "Mom, I have a lot of friends in Seattle and I go to parties and meet people. Will you stop with the Spanish Inquisition and just try to be happy for me?"

"I'm sorry, Ana. Of course I'm happy, but it's tempered with concern. You're not pregnant?" she asks, a trace of panic evident in her voice.

"No! Is Malia there?" I ask quickly to get her off the subject. I'm afraid she'll start asking me about my sex life—she's been known to do that.

"Not right now. Your sister has become a little social butterfly since she started college. And she has a boyfriend."

"Really? Good for her. I can't wait to see her and show her around. You know, Christian has a younger brother just about her age. Well, I guess Malia is a little older. Nineteen to seventeen."

"And how old is Christian?"

"He's twenty-nine."

I missed his birthday while we were apart. Next one I'm going all out for him—make it spectacular. I'm so focused on that idea that I don't even hear what my mother's saying.

"… at the end of the month."

"Um, okay, Mom. Listen, call me back after you've spoken with Dad. Okay?"

"Yes, alright. Talk to you soon. Love you, Ana banana."

"Love you, too, Mom."

...

So we set the date for November 18th. I suggested Halloween would be fun but that only netted me a dirty look from Grey. How much fun would it be to have wedding guests show up in costume? Some people have no sense of fun.

It's August now so that gives Grace three months—what she asked us for to pull it together. Christian wanted to do it next week but his mother made him see reason, telling him that an important man such as he had to have a splashy wedding and that took time to plan. Three months was barely enough—a year would be preferable. He stood there listening to her with crossed arms, and a rigidly erect posture. In other words, his fighting stance. No matter how haughty he presented himself, tapping his toe and giving her a stern look, she totally ignored his cues, instead telling him what he needed to do and allowing no room for dissent. So… stony-faced and all, he ultimately caved and told her she had three months, not a minute more. Grace smiled and winked at me. I couldn't keep myself from grinning and Christian's gaze bounced between Grace and I until, annoyed, he spun around and went in search of male company. Grace and I giggled.

...

Kent has been closeting himself in his studio every night this week and he won't talk about what he's doing, so I'm pretty sure he's designing my wedding dress. He doesn't even have to do fittings since he knows my dimensions like the back of his hand, but he swears he'll need to do fittings once the dress has taken shape. I can't wait to see it, for I trust his design sense implicitly and know it will be stunning.

After calling him almost every day he finally calls me back with an invitation to dinner.

I get there at six and Jared greets me at the door with a specialty mojito. I take a sip. "Yum."

"Watermelon, baby doll. Come on, we're out by the pool. Did you bring your swimsuit?"

"Nooo. Kent didn't mention it. Damn. I'd love to go for a dunk."

"Careful. I might take you literally." He grins mischievously.

I stick out my tongue at him and, drink in hand, flounce outside to the patio where I find Kent lying on a gorgeous chaise near the sparkling pool.

Pool. To call it a pool is like saying the Taj Mahal is a house. This pool looks as much like a natural body of water as a natural body of water. It's been cleverly landscaped to hide all the machinery—the pump, heater, etc. The gunite cement is tinted so the water reflects as deep blue and the shape is irregular, as if designed by currents and erosion. Even the stones around the pool, though leveled and smoothed for safety, are in haphazard fashion, as if nature plopped them there.

"Ana!" Kent pops up to give me a hug and kiss.

Hands on hips, I give him a reprimanding look. "And why didn't you tell me to bring my swimsuit?"

"Why? Because I've designed some swimwear for your honeymoon and I thought you could take one for a test drive."

Leave it to Kent to think of everything. I casually place my drink down on the bar top and then launch myself at him, peppering him with kisses. "You are the bestest of friends, Gable. How dull my life was before I met you."

"Don't I get a hug and kiss? I helped him decide on the colors."

I turn around to see Jared holding his arms out, grinning. I swing over to him and give him a tight hug, chiding him, "You tricked me into thinking that Kent wasn't inviting me to swim."

"True. A guy's got to take his pleasure where he can."

I laugh. "If that's your idea of pleasure, I feel sorry for you. But somehow I doubt it, Jared." I wave my arm around at their backyard paradise.

Kent puts his hand on my shoulder. "All right. Let's go look at the suits… and bring your drink. This could take a few minutes."

"Why? How many did you design?"

"About ten or so. I figured you'd be going away for at least three weeks so you'll need an assortment. Especially considering there's sure to be some paparazzi."

"Ten? That's not enough, Kent." I keep a straight face.

"You think? All right. I'll make a few more."

"I'm kidding! Ten is ridiculously excessive. I doubt we'll spend every day on the beach and I really don't care if I'm photographed in the same swimsuit twice."

"Well, I do, since many of my admirers know you're my muse. I want you to look spectacular, even when you're sweaty and you have sand in your crotch."

"Lovely sentiment." I tilt my head, trying not to smile. "Besides, sand is not what I plan to have in my crotch."

"Whoa," Jared whoops. "She got you, Kent." Jared is chuckling hard and I suspect the two of them have had a head start on the mojitos. I've got to catch up. Then again, I'm driving home.

Kent lays out the swimsuits on a table in his home studio. There's one in just about every color: black, white, cobalt blue, red, yellow and light blue, purple and pale green, aqua and charcoal, and three metallic—gold, silver, and copper. Most of them are bikinis but the red and the black are one-piece suits with daring cutouts. I'm most attracted to the cobalt and the copper ones and I tell Kent.

He looks at Jared and smirks. "Do I know my girl or what?"

Jared's smiling. "He guessed those two would be your favorites. I voted for the white and black, since you're perfectly virginal now but you won't be when Grey gets through with you on your wedding night. Lucky, lucky girl." He winks at me, and my face heats. Jared knows how to embarrass me and he does it gleefully.

"Stop it, Jared. You are such a brat," Kent, my champion, berates him.

Still laughing, Jared grabs Kent around the waist with one arm, and with his free hand holds Kent's head so he can't move away, proceeding to give him a passionate kiss. After the hot and heavy liplock, he releases a red-faced Kent who immediately starts sputtering and averting his eyes, refusing to look at either Jared or me.

Jared lifts Kent's face by the chin and announces, "It was time to get it over with already. Ana knows we're a couple, she knows we're intimate, and guess what, Kent? It doesn't faze her in the least. You have to get over this puritanical streak of yours." He looks at me. "Am I right, Ana?"

I nod, arching my brows at Kent. "Yes, Jared, completely, but I do find Kent's puritanical streak charming, I have to say. But Kent, Jared is right. You can't live your life worrying about what other people think of you. And you know what? Ninety percent of people think very highly of you anyway."

"Thank you, Ana," Jared says. "We consider you family so it was getting awkward and annoying that Kent refused to let you see any affection between us."

I look at Kent, and he winks at me. "Only ninety percent? I expected better."

Jared puts an arm around each of us. "C'mon, pick a swimsuit and let's get toasted and go swimming. I'm sure we won't drown."

I reach for my least favorite—the purple and green one. Two minutes later when I take a quick peek in the mirror I realize it's not my least favorite anymore—I look fantastic in it. Kent is such a brilliant designer that the bathing suit highlights all my assets while diminishing the flaws. Incredible. I rejoin the men and they whistle when they see me in the suit.

"Perfect… as always, Ana. Wait until you see how you look in the red one. I have the complete image in my mind and when your intended sees you in it, he shouldn't be held responsible for what will surely ensue."

I grin—now Kent's getting a little dirty. Jared and I are rubbing off on him. Finally.

After downing our watermelon mojitos we take turns leaping into the heated pool and we don't drown, but just barely. The pool is the perfect temperature and all the lights come on as dusk settles. It's such a beautifully landscaped yard with small green lights twinkling in the privacy hedges and the rainbow colors of the underwater lamps turning the pool water multiple hues.

An hour later the three of us are lounging around the pool, sloshing back mojitos with chunks of fresh, sweet watermelon, while Kent's personal chef grills halibut and vegetables for us.

"Ah, this is great," I say, leaning back in my beautiful chaise, and enjoying the delicious aromas in the air. "I could get used to this."

"Don't worry, princess," Jared says. "With Mr. Grey as your husband, you will be one pampered wife."

"True," I say, feeling devilish, "but I'm not marrying the man for his money. I'm marrying him for his massive penis."

I hear Kent gasp loudly and Jared throws his head back and guffaws. "Nice, Ana. Do we have any verifying photos of the allegedly large instrument?"

"None that can be shared, I'm afraid. You'll have to take my word for it. I do, perhaps, have a photo of his talented tongue, however."

Jared hoots and kicks Kent, who is shaking his head in mock disapproval. He always yells at Jared and me for this kind of raunchy talk.

"Well," Kent sniffs when the conversation loses steam, "it does seem a bit excessive. Superb good looks, enormous wealth, and a massive penis? Rather unfair to the rest of us mortals."

Jared doesn't respond in words but sniggers wickedly. I'm not sure how to interpret it. At that moment our dinner is served at the dining table. It occurs to me that I'm ravenously hungry.

At the first bite I nearly moan in appreciation. "Oh my God, this is amazing. I think I'm going to eat everything in sight."

Kent points his fork at me. "If you're going to gain weight, you better do it before the first fitting or you'll throw everything off. Once we start tailoring the gown, you had better stick to a regimen to stay the same size. Got it, girl?"

"Aye, aye, sir." My phone begins to chime and I glance down to see it's Christian. He must be back from San Francisco early. I wanted to go with him so badly but I had to work—it was only fair since I'm going to be taking so much time off. I answer it quickly. "Excuse me, guys. It's the man with the big penis."

"Oh, well go right a-head," Jared jokes, emphasizing the last syllable.

I shake my head as I push the answer button. "Hi," I say into the phone.

"Where are you?" His voice is low and devoid of any inflection.

"I'm having dinner with Kent and Jared at their house."

"Do you have your car there?"

"Yes."

"Ask Kent if you could leave the car there till tomorrow. I'll have someone pick it up."

"Isn't that too much of a hassle?"

"No, baby. I need you tonight."

As soon as he says those words, all my protests fly out the window. He needs me. "Okay. I'll be waiting for you."

"Be there in a little while."

The lines goes dead and I look up to see two pairs of eyes watching me. "Is it all right if I leave my car here until tomorrow? Christian says he'll send someone to pick it up."

"Of course, Ana. So…" Kent's eyes see everything there is to know about me. He's so intuitive and we think so much alike that I could never keep anything from him. "…what's going on with Mr. Grey? Is he stealing you from us tonight?"

"'Fraid so. He sounded a little down and needs my rejuvenating company." I try to hide my worry behind my grin. What's going on with my darling?

Kent knows I'm concerned but he puts on a façade, just like I'm doing. "Okay," he says lightly. "Call us if you need any help in cheering the man up. Jared plays a mean banjo."

I laugh—genuinely, despite my worry. "Banjo? Get out of town. A sophisticated urban type like you playing banjo? I'm not buying it."

"Hey, I happen to have been born in Texas, lady. Who says I'm sophisticated anyway?"

Kent chuckles and we start bantering back and forth. I know they're trying to keep me from worrying about Christian and in large part, they succeed. Until the bell rings.

We can just hear it from where we're sitting by the open doors—poolside, the whole wall of the house opens up so the interior and exterior space are combined. I look at my watch; it took him a half hour to arrive.

Kent gets up to go answer the door. A moment later I hear Kent speaking and a deep voice respond but I can't make out any of the words. Before long Kent is back, followed by a sober-looking Christian.

I take one look at him and all my innards drop: he is such a beautiful male. I hardly can believe he loves me, and he's all mine.

He's wearing jeans but still has on the shirt he no doubt wore earlier with his suit. It's rumpled and the sleeves are rolled up his forearm. He's wearing brown Italian loafers with no socks, and his hair is tousled by the wind. I want to fire myself at him like a cannonball and plaster kisses on his luscious body everywhere but I resist out of consideration for my company.

He makes a beeline for me, his port in a storm, just as he is for me. He wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses my cheek.

"Hi Ana. Are you having fun?"

"Yes. Christian, have you ever met Jared?"

He looks up at Jared. "No, I haven't."

"Jared, this is Christian Grey. Christian, Jared Parks."

Christian extends his hand and Jared rises to shake it. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Christian. Ana has told us so much about you that I feel as if I know you already."

He smiles warmly but his eyes are scanning Jared in measured assessment. If Jared's remark has made him at all uncomfortable, no one would know it. "Likewise," he answers.

"Guess what, Christian? Kent has designed a bunch of swimsuits for me to wear on our honeymoon. They're really gorgeous. I had one on earlier when we went swimming but I changed since it was wet."

"Really? I can't wait to see them."

Kent chuckles. "To tell the truth, I suppose I designed them more for you than Ana. She looks pretty damn great in the one she wore tonight."

Christian looks at me. "I'll bet."

"Christian, would you like a drink?" Jared pipes up.

"No, thank you. I'm driving us back to my place so I won't indulge."

"A soft drink then? Or coffee?"

"No, thank you. I should apologize, though, for spiriting Ana away when she was your guest. I've been out of town recently and was hoping to spend some time with her tonight."

"We forgive you," Jared says sprightly. "You can make it up to us someday." Jared winks at me. He's so bad… but I have no idea what he means when he says that. Christian doesn't either because I see him giving Jared another long look. Kent saves the day by interjecting.

"Well, thank you so much for sharing dinner with us, Ana. I'll pack up the swimsuits and have them ready for you when you do your wedding packing. I'll have the one you used tonight laundered, as well."

I get up and give Kent a hug. "Thank you for everything, Kent. I'm forever saying thank you to you like a broken record because you're always doing such nice things for me. I feel as if I don't do nearly enough for you, but I don't know what to do."

"Ana, your company and your friendship are quite enough. Now, go. We'll talk later in the week."

"Okay," I give him another squeeze and go to Jared to say goodnight. Christian shakes hands with both men and then leads me outside where the Maserati awaits us. Christian always takes the fast cars when he's feeling blue because speed helps him feel better, I've noticed. I need to know what's going on.

Opening my car door, he helps me in and then scoots around to the driver's side as I strap in. I always feel like a race car driver in this sports car. Once he's behind the wheel and ready, he peels out and, expertly handling the car, heads toward his penthouse. I wait until we're on the open road before speaking.

"Do you want to tell me what's troubling you?"

He takes his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at me then swivels them back to focus on his driving. "Long day. Shitty day."

"What was shitty about it?"

He sighs and the weight of it convinces me he did have a lousy day. "I had to fire a lot of people. It's never easy. We took on a firm that was a hot mess and we went in today with a machete rather than the scalpel we prefer. It was a bloodbath, so to speak. It always depresses me when I have to conduct this type of operation."

I frown. "How many?"

"How many what?" he asks without looking at me.

"How many did you fire?"

"A lot. Some richly deserved it, however, Some didn't. Whatever. I lost my temper at one point and I think I scared everyone so much that those who were terminated were glad because it meant they could get away from me sooner." He chuckles weakly.

"What can I do to help?"

Now he looks at me out of the corner of his eye. "It just so happens that you have the ability to cure what ails me, baby. I want you in my arms; I need you in my arms tonight."

I reach over and put my hand over his on the stick shift. "As soon as we get there, Christian... I'll make you feel better. Promise."

Another quick glance from him tells me he gets my drift for I see the heat in his eyes. I can't wait to get home now and I squirm in my seat. He notices—of course—and gives me a wicked grin.

I guess I do have the cure for what ails him… and that is so nice to know.