Author's note: Well, not eight hours after I posted that last chapter my girlfriend went into labor. The world is richer by one healthy baby boy! Such a joy to be a part of new life. If you haven't already checked out my Pinterest page, you'll want to by the end of this chapter. Link in my profile.
CPOV
"I do hope that this new level of betrayal clues you in as to what kind of person you're dealing with, Christian. I understand the desire to want closure, to wrap things up in a nice neat package and cross this off your list of unfinished business but when you're dealing with a psychotic individual, that's just not possible."
He's right of course, he always is even when I don't want him to be. He sits with his legs folded, waiting for me to respond. I feel like I need to make a decision in relation to these sessions with Flynn. I have been coming here for years and have rehashed the same shit over and over and over and each time his answer is the same. And each time, without fail, I argue with him. Maybe I'll take a grain of something he says and apply it but as a general rule, I do nothing but come back at him and dig my heels in. Maybe, just maybe it's time to trust him enough to just do what he says.
Something my father said to me years ago comes back to me just as I open my mouth. He was teaching Elliot and I to sail the summer Elliot left for college and after our third time out he told us that the next time we went, he'd hang back and let us run the show.
"How? Aren't you afraid we'll screw up your boat?" Elliot had asked him in a moment of panic but my dad just shrugged and casually explained himself.
"Trust is something that you have to earn and also a choice you make. You boys have shown me that I can trust you to remember what I've taught you and to take the responsibility seriously. Now I have to choose to trust that you'll make the right decisions."
I have chosen to trust Ana. I have chosen to trust my family. I need to choose to trust Flynn now.
"You don't think there is any gain in me meeting with her and trying to ask her questions? Nothing that I can use to get over this mind fuck she did on me?"
"No, I don't. I think you sitting down with her is exactly what she wants. She's a master manipulator and your abuser. Sitting down with her, needing something from her gives her power if for no other reason than she is back in your world on some level. Any type of acknowledgement will add fuel to her fire."
"The worst...punishment for someone like her is to ignore her and be happy in your life without her. The best thing you can do for yourself is process this new information, let it run its course and then let it go. It can do nothing but cause you further harm. What about these new revelations is the most upsetting? Let's break it down and tackle it head on."
For the first time ever I feel like lying down on his couch. I know why shrinks have them. Sometimes, it's too much effort just to hold your own head up. But I'm through with being weak in front of people so I sit back instead, my legs sprawled out in front of me, thumbs pressing hard into my eyes.
"It's hard to verbalize. It's like the shit is just bouncing around my brain and I can't nail any of it down to even figure out where I'm at. I knew she was sick. I've come to terms with her being a pedophile and me being a…victim of hers. But even then I thought there was some sort of…I don't know…respect or affection or…fuck I have no idea what I thought. I guess I thought she cared for me on some level but now I find out that she saw me as something she could sell. A fucking commodity. I feel like a god damned fool!"
"I equate someone like Elena Lincoln to baking a cake with arsenic. It looks good, it smells good, there's lots of normal benign ingredients in it. But that little bit of arsenic makes it inedible. Just a small bit will kill you. Any contact with her at this point is equivalent to you eating that cake."
"Fuck! I want this shit over with! Just make it go away for fucking good!"
Usually when I go off the handle and make to leave he sits back and lets me go but this time he stands, puts his hand on the door and motions for me to sit back down.
"Don't backtrack now, Christian. You have come too far and worked too hard in the past few months to let anything push you back. Sit down, I'll have Gloria bring in some coffee so we can keep going." I sit.
"I don't want any coffee." I huff, my thumbs resuming their pressing and centering pain. I hate that pain still helps to center me. Hate it.
"What's done is done. Nothing you learn going forward will change the past. You may find out more of her perversions and learn more about how she viewed you but that shouldn't change how you now view yourself."
"But why did she see me that way? Why was I disposable to my mother and that asshole?" My finger slams into the center of my chest. "I was a kid and she wouldn't so much as feed me for days because she literally forgot I was there! I was a god damned kid! And then Elena, what the hell was wrong with me? Why did she think so little of me that she knew she could manipulate me?" Flynn rubs his nose and uncrosses his legs, leaning his elbows on his knees.
"You are looking for drug addicts, pimps and a pedophile to determine your worth." Before I can interrupt he holds his hand up to stop me. "You don't see it that way but that's the reality. You want answers from people who, to start with, can't give them to you and who would never give you a helpful answer anyway. This is all on you. You don't have the luxury of playing the 'why' game."
"Are you my shrink or my friend right now?"
"Your friend. You need a dose of reality right now, tough love as they call it, not some psycho mumbo jumbo. I'm not telling you to get over what the first four years of your life were like but I am telling you to look past them. I'm not telling you to get over being molested but I am telling you to look past it. You are so much more than the sum of those two things. They do not define who you are even though for years you thought they did."
"The reason you're doing so well now, the reason you're not having nightmares or anxiety attacks or insomnia isn't because of Ana. It's because of what she makes you see in yourself. You are not the empty shell you thought you were, you are not the emotionless heartless man you thought you were. You are not the ambivalent unattached person you thought you were. She may have been the catalyst for you to change your perception of yourself but ultimately, you made a choice to believe those things."
"John…"
"My turn now, Christian. You have the tools, you've put in the time. Now you just need to accept that you are a good person who was treated very very badly. You are not the sum of their sins. You are a grown man capable of great love and great compassion. Accept that. Hurt when you hurt, be angry when you're angry, ask for help when you need it but do not, do not let someone as sick as Elena Lincoln define how you see yourself."
"Why is it so important for you to know what their reasonings were? What do you think will change if you know the reasons why they hurt you?"
"Because if I know what made them hate me and what made them want to hurt me and ultimately why they found me unworthy than I can ensure that I never let myself be like that. If I can fix that part of me, then Ana won't leave, my family won't one day wake up and decide I'm not who they thought I was." Where the hell did that come from?
He smiles, a shit eating grin that I'd punch right off of his smug face if I weren't so shocked by my own subconscious admission.
"Christian, that is what we call a breakthrough. They're hard, they hurt, they make us want to tear at the ceiling and they're not easy to come by but once you get there, the war is almost over." He stands and makes his way back towards the door, turning and pausing before opening it. "One last thing. Ana, your family, they already know these things about you. They don't see you as unworthy or weak or bad. They just love you. You're holding back on a fulfilling life with the people who truly see you as valuable because you're still letting trash from your past speak in your ear."
I'm fried. The whole lead up to this meeting with Lillian, the meeting itself, the disgust I feel for having to utilize Ana in this whole thing and this session has all but killed me today. I want a beer, my girl and sleep. I'll even forgo sex right now I'm so off kilter.
Well, maybe not forgo it. Maybe just a quickie…
Ryan pulls into rush hour Seattle traffic and informs Sawyer that we're on our way home. Taylor has the night off to spend time with his daughter and Ana wouldn't let Gail cook dinner either, insisting that they spend family time together. I'm looking forward to this actually. Going home to a meal that my woman cooked and enjoying a normal quiet night at home.
Stepping into the great room automatically makes me feel better. Just knowing that she's here makes it easier to breathe. The apartment smells delicious, the scent of dinner pulling me towards the kitchen to find Ana in an apron stirring something on the stove while a small blond girl sits at the breakfast bar pushing M&M's into cookie dough. What the…?
"Hi baby! You remember Sophie." Ana wipes her hands on her apron and embraces me, kissing my cheek and whispering, "Smile," into my ear.
"Hi Sophie. It's nice to see you again." She blushes the darkest color of pink I've ever seen which alarms me but Ana just leans over and compliments the cookies.
"Gail's sister was in a car accident so Sophie's dad is driving her down to the hospital and then he'll come back for bedtime. So in the meantime, we get to hang out and have some fun." Ana widens her eyes at me but I know not to ask how serious the accident was. I'm not that stupid when it comes to kids.
"Great, so, uh, what are you doing there?" Poor thing looks terrified.
"Ms. Ana said I could decorate these however I wanted." Did she wash her hands first?
"Well they look great. Ana, can I talk to you for a second?"
When we're far enough down the hall she unties the apron and lifts it over her head, sighing as she does so.
"She got here around four I guess and Gail got the call at five. From what I could gather her sister is going to be ok but the accident was still pretty serious. Taylor left Sophie with Reynolds in the security room but that's no fun for her and definitely not part of his job description so I thought she could hang with us until they got back. It'll give you a chance to get to know her too."
"What? Get to know her? She's terrified of me and besides, I don't have a freaking clue how to 'hang' with a…what is she? Ten?"
"Seven. Just turned seven two weeks ago. And I'm not exactly an expert with kids either but she seems pretty easy. I figure dinner and a kid movie. You've got kid movies, right?"
"Of course I don't have kid movies!" I hiss, tugging at my tie and unbuttoning my sleeves at the same time.
"Alright, chill out. Go download a few princess ones while I finish up dinner."
"Princess ones?" I dead pan. I don't even know what that means.
"You're not an idiot, in fact, you're a damn genius. Go into the library, search under princess kids movies and download a few for her. Dinner will be in ten minutes. I made a seafood paella." She says this as if it's the most normal thing in the world to have a seven year old girl in my house.
"What about her mother?" I hiss before she's out my reach.
"She took a long weekend with her boyfriend to Whistler. That's why she was ok with Taylor having her for a few nights." Fucking perfect. "It's going to be fine, Christian." I'd argue but she's already back in the kitchen by the time I formulate an argument.
In our bedroom I change into jeans and a t-shirt and then call Taylor to see what the fuck is going on. When we became babysitters I don't recall. Before I can even start in he speaks.
"Mr. Grey, Sir, I'll be able to make my way back in about 20 minutes, we're pulling into the hospital now, I'd like to walk Mrs. Jones in and make sure she gets where she needs to be and then I'll head back." In the back ground I hear Gail sniffle and realize what an ass I'm being. How many times have I screwed up their plans without a second thought? How much of their own time have I intruded on without so much as a second thought?
"No rush, Jason. Take care of Gail and keep us posted on her sisters condition. I just wanted to check in and see how things were and let you know that we've got things under control over here. Don't rush, we're good."
He says nothing but I can hear his doubt. Or maybe that's mine?
"Sir, I'll just be a few more hours."
"Take your time. Ana's got her making cookies and then we're going to watch a princess movie." What am I even saying? Is this my life now?
He's dead silent on the other end of the phone. Even Gail has stopped crying. I need to hang up before I screw this up.
"Drive carefully and keep us updated. Tell Gail to take as much time as she needs and to not worry about the apartment at all."
"Thank you, Sir. I'll touch base in an hour or so."
I wonder if they would have left her if Ana wasn't around. Somehow I doubt it. Immediately my phone buzzes with a text from Taylor.
-She will be fine with Ryan and Sawyer in the security suite.-
-She's fine here, T. Just take care of Gail.-
Back in the kitchen Sophie is on her knees in front of the oven door watching the cookies bake while Ana plates up dinner and pours drinks. A crisp sancerre for us and apple juice for Sophie.
"Soph, will you please run these plates into Mr. Ryan and Mr. Sawyer for me?" She jumps up and grabs one plate, balancing a fork and napkin in one hand and dinner in the other. My heart is in my throat but she manages to bring the first plate in and then runs to come and get the other.
"You made them dinner too?"
"Mmmhmm. Gail always does. They'd probably starve if she didn't feed them." Sophie comes back and sits on the plush silk covered dining room table chair. I resist the urge to put a towel underneath her, a feat I'm pretty proud of. She's too old for a bib, right? Shouldn't her cup have a lid? Ana seems to be confident in her abilities so I remain silent and sit at the end of the table, Ana on my right, Sophie on my left. Surreal is the only way to describe this meal.
In silent awe I eat, listening as Ana chats about second grade and jumping off of diving boards. I breathe a silent sigh of relief when Sophie drinks out of the crystal glass and doesn't spill it. At first she's quiet and reserved, her little blue eyes flitting nervously from me to Ana and back again but when Ana brings up some guy named Justin Bieber Sophie comes alive, practically bouncing in her seat.
"My dad said he'd try to get us tickets to see him in concert if he ever comes to Seattle or anywhere near Washington. I'm so excited, my mom said I could get one of his t-shirts for my birthday but then she didn't get me one so I'm asking Santa for it. And then Ms. Gail said that her niece has one that she doesn't fit in anymore so she'll ask her if I can have it."
She's this excited over a t-shirt? Mentioning this guy, apparently some sort of singer or dancer or something, has eliminated any nerves she had about being in my presence. From that point on she doesn't. stop. talking. Not when dinner is cleared away, not when she collects Ryan and Sawyers plates, not when we scoop out ice cream for the cookies, not when we sit down in the library with popcorn and chocolate milks. Constant. As in…constant. Shit, this is like a new type of torture.
"What movies did you find, Christian?" Ana asks while Sophie takes a breath, no doubt to reload and start tommy-gunning more information at us. I feel battered.
"I had no idea what I was looking for so I just searched 'princess' and downloaded those." On the giant screen the titles of 158 movies pop up, all with the word princess in them or in their description. Sophie, for once, is silent while she reads through them.
"You got…all of them." Ana looks at me, her eyes twinkling before she pushes her fist against her mouth. "You're too cute Christian Grey."
"You said princess movies. I don't know what the hell that means and Mia didn't answer when I called so I just got them all."
"Can we watch 'Princess Bride'?" Well fuck, I already had that movie!
Sophie settles into the oversized armchair while Ana and I sprawl out on the couch. After a few minutes she begins to mindlessly play with my hair, running her fingernails over my scalp and the back of my neck. Sitting here next to her, half of her body on top of mine I find it as calming and as sensual as sex itself. It makes me feel cherished, cared for, and vulnerable in a really safe way. Suddenly the emails I was returning on my phone don't seem so urgent. Instead my lids grow heavy, my body slowly turning to Jell-O under the tips of Ana's fingers.
When the movie ends I look around, my arm stretched out on the back of the couch behind Ana, popcorn all over the floor and Sophie's shirt, empty cups of chocolate milk on the table. This is most definitely not the way I saw my night playing out.
Ana stands and stretches, gathering the food and drinks to take them to the kitchen. I just assumed Sophie would go into Taylors apartment and go to bed but Ana reminds me that she's never even been here let alone slept here and that she shouldn't be so far from us should she wake up afraid.
So somehow I find myself turning down the guest bed in the room next to ours, filling a glass of water and watching with my heart in my throat while Ana tucks her in. I want this. Every night for the rest of my life I want this.
She leaves the guest room door open, telling Sophie to just call for us should she wake and then goes into our room to change into pajamas.
"Have you heard from Taylor again?"
"About ten minutes ago. She's fine, stable with no significant injuries so he's going to head back here in a little bit. I'll text him to let him know she's in that room."
"And Gail?"
"Upset obviously but alright. She's going to stay down there for a few days until her sister is home and acclimated. It's really only one day since she's off on the weekends anyway. But I told her she can stay longer is she needed to." I rush to add that last part.
"I'm tired. Today was totally exhausting. Are you coming to bed?" I'm tired but at 10:15 there is no way I'm going to sleep yet.
"I'll get some work done in the office. I guess sex is off the table tonight?" Dainty shoulders shrug and then point at the open door.
"Well, since we're leaving our door open and so is she, I'd say it's a pretty sure thing that sex is off the table. And lower your voice!" Well, damn. That is definitely not how I saw my night panning out. "But I will say that watching you drink chocolate milk was one of the biggest turn-ons for me."
"I'll call Hershey in the morning." She snorts with laughter but I'm dead serious.
On the way to my office I can't help but look in the guest room where a little blond head peaks out from the comforter. Add this to the list of 'never in my life did I see this happening' list.
On my desk is a folder that I have avoided for two full days now. There is no title, to tab, no indication of its contents. Just an ordinary run of the mill manila folder. The information it holds doesn't even have a real effect on me directly but I dread it just the same.
The bourbon I poured before I sat swirls around the crystal tumbler, smooth and rich. One finger flicks the top of the folder open, the other hand cupping the cut crystal glass. I've not read anything inside yet but I know what it says already.
Carla Adams is getting out of jail. There will be no trial, there will be no criminal record. She will exchange information on her lover, the man who abused her daughter and helped her ruin two marriages, and she will walk free. With the charges Morton brought on himself from the stolen earrings and subsequent sale of stolen goods, along with his parole violation he was looking at 12 years. But with the information provided by Carla, he'll spend an additional ten to twenty.
Silver lining, right?
Except now she doesn't pay for what she did to Ana and that just pisses me off. I've tried to initiate conversations with Ana about her mom but she shuts me down each time after a few minutes. To her, the best way to get past the hurt is to face it head on with her therapist and then let it go at the end of each session. Or so she says. I believe her when she tells me that she and Dr. Fischer spend a lot of time on Carla Adams and I'm glad for it. I am. But how you can let go of something that hurtful I wish I knew.
Is it worse to have been neglected, to have been unloved and to have been unimportant to a woman who was struggling with addiction? Or is it worse to have been raised by a woman who said she loved you and took care of your basic needs only to fuck with your mind over and over? Is one worse than the other?
In some ways I can rationalize my own birth mother's behavior by chalking it up to a drug addiction for which she had no help overcoming. She was young and alone in a rundown apartment in the middle of downtown Detroit. There was no lifeline offered to her, no social worker that knocked on the door and forced her to get help, no family to hold her accountable. Ella McIntyre was quite literally on her own with a disease that ate away at her brain. I hate the woman and I blame her for a lot but I also recognize that she was a child drug addict who had nobody.
But then you have Ana. Born into middle class America, adopted by a man who adored her and loved her and treated her as his own through instinct. He certainly didn't learn to parent from Carla. And while her house may have been clean and she may not have had men in and out, there was still abuse. I've come to realize that physical abuse is destructive on many levels but the emotional abuse our moms waged on us was far more detrimental.
She could have had a wonderful childhood but instead it was marred by constant rejection and emotional abandonment. Which is worse? It's a question I have no answer to and not one I'll burden myself with tonight. I'm just too tired.
Carla knows the charges against her are for the stolen earrings but she has no idea that I had her followed her or that I was the one responsible. I'd love to tell her, sit down across from her and smile big while I told her that it was me who she could thank for outfitting her in that hideous orange jumpsuit. I don't care what Ana says, I will never allow that woman back into our lives on any kind of regular basis. She's cancerous and needs to be cut out and tossed away and I'll be damned if I will let her hurt her daughter again.
Yesterday morning she sat with the prosecutor and told them all she knew on Morton's drug distribution. It makes no difference that in the scheme of things he's a minor player, her testimony will help an ongoing investigation into a medium sized cartel operating out of Tampa. In some circles, Carla Adams is considered a hero.
On Monday she'll stand before a judge who will formally dismiss the charges against her. There will be no one there to pick her up, Bob has filed for divorce and has cut off all forms of communications with her. She has less than sixty dollars in a bank account and no job. I give her five minutes before she's calling Ana looking for money. She can go to hell and fuck herself on the way if she thinks that's going to happen.
I sniff into the tumbler appreciatively and huff. Parents.
The enormity of their influence reveals itself to me more and more. Were it not for Grace and Carrick, would I be as successful as I am today? If it weren't for Ray, would Ana be a hollow shell of girl? My birth mother had only four years with me, most of which I was too young to remember. My parents had the rest but it was those first four years, my own flesh and bloods rejection of me that has had the most profound influence.
The bourbon burns my throat but I pour another anyway. Maybe I'm not cut out for this parenting thing. I'm still angry at a dead woman who could barely remember to feed me when she was alive. How am I supposed to have a child and love that child and raise...
"Mr. Grey?" A tiny voice pulls me right out of my head and into the present.
"Yes?" I answer softly, my eyes looking around Sophie who is standing in the doorway with a coloring book and some crayons. Oh shit, she's alone. What am I supposed to do in this scenario?
"I can't sleep." Midnight. She needs to be asleep. "Is my daddy going to be here soon? That bed is too big for me."
"I expect him in the next half hour or so. You need to sleep, Sophie."
"I can't." She looks so…small in her pink cupcake pajamas with her hair all messed up. I'm tempted to wake Ana but I know she's running with Sawyer in the morning so think better of it. I can handle this. Thirty minutes. I own the fucking world, I can manage a seven year old in cupcake pajamas. Regroup, Grey!
"Why don't you bring your coloring book in here and sit at the table while I finish up my work. By the time I'm finished Tay, uh, your dad will be home."
And that is how Taylor finds us a few minutes later. I admit I forgot she was there, my attention directed into pouring over spreadsheet analytics but when Taylor clears his throat and knocks once on the door frame I pull myself up and shut the computer for the night.
"Sir." He says, eyeing up his daughter who has jumped into his arms and is talking, again, about how her night went. She should come with a warning label and ear plugs. She definitely didn't get her loquaciousness from him, that much I know.
"How is Gail's sister?"
"She'll be fine. The car was totaled and the other driver was injured pretty badly but she's fine. Gail will stay with her until Sunday night but wanted me to assure you that she'd be back on Monday."
"No matter, she can take as much time as she needs." He looks down at Sophie as she rips a picture out of her coloring book carefully as if it were an original Rembrandt.
"I apologize, Sir. For leaving the way I did. Gail was beside herself and I just needed to get going at that point. We knew nothing so time was of the essence and I didn't want to bring Sophie if something really tragic had happened. I had no intention of leaving her here for you and Ms. Steele to watch, Ryan said he was fine with her."
"Taylor, it was fine. She may have had a few too many cookies and she definitely had too much chocolate milk but it all turned out ok." Taylor stuffs the crayons and coloring book under his arm and motions for Sophie to follow him but she pauses and holds up her pointer finger.
"One second, daddy." I'm frozen to the floor when she hands me the page she so carefully tore out of the book, the words To: Mr. Grey From: Sophie Taylor written in purple crayon. "This is Prince Eric. Your hair reminds me of his, it's all floppy. I'm going to marry him one day." Taylor raises his eyebrows at me, his shoulders stiffening under his shirt.
Oh shit.
APOV
"OK, OK, OK. You win! God, what is it about you and this stupid competition thing you've got going with me?" Sawyer laughs, smacks the button in the express elevator and leans against the wall to catch his breath.
"You're an elf and you can take me down in less than two minutes in a fight. I can't let you run faster than me too. Makes me look like a pansy." His only answer is a roll of my eyes. Men.
"You're off tonight?"
"Yup. You get dropped here at six and then you and Mr. Grey are all Taylor and Prescott's until you leave for camping. I'll be meeting you at the site along with nine other officers."
"Nine?"
"Twelve if you count Prescott, Taylor and myself."
"So ridiculous." I shake my head already embarrassed at what my friends are going to think until he ushers me out and taps in the key code for the front door.
"Not ridiculous at all. You're going to be in the open wilderness sleeping in what's essentially a sheet. I'm surprised Mr. Grey is allowing this to be honest. Elliot can be persistent and persuasive but we all were shocked by this."
"Where will you guys be?" He wags his pointer finger in my face and then presses it to his lips.
"Security protocol. You know nothing. It's safer that way." I just roll my eyes again and leave him in the foyer to get ready for the day. On the breakfast bar is a box of bagels and fresh cut up fruit in one of those grocery store containers. Taylor must have picked this up before he and Christian left to meet with Bastille downstairs.
Next to the box of bagels is a coloring book picture of Prince Eric except he's got brown hair. When I see Sophie's name I smile and put it back down. A-freaking-dorable.
One long hot shower, a grey pencil dress and a cream cheesed bagel later and I'm ready to leave for her office. Matt is still in Laos, Missy is on her honeymoon until tomorrow and Eliza is busy cleaning up some travel brochures she's been working on. Despite the paparazzi and the uptick in my security because of 'unnamed and veiled threats', life is finally feeling like it's back to normal. Or however normal life can be when you're with a billionaire.
Christian breezes in, sweaty and disheveled from his workout and grabs an apple from the fruit basket before giving me a quick but firm kiss on the cheek.
"Good morning good looking."
"I'm a disgusting sweaty mess, Ana."
"And somehow still the hottest, sexiest, most handsome man in the world." He grins like a shy little boy and pours his coffee before coming back to stand across the counter from me.
"Do you think you can skip out of work at four today? I want to take you out for a really nice dinner tonight but I have something I want to show you first."
"I think I can. How dressy?" He shrugs.
"Mia would call it cocktail casual." I chuckle at his default for everything fashion going right to Mia. "Be ready to leave here at 5:30, we've got reservations at seven and I want a few minutes to show you around."
Show me around?
"You're unusually sprightly this morning. What's going on?" Devilish gray eyes blink in fake innocence, so beautiful that I don't even care that he just swiped my bagel and the piece of watermelon I was about to eat.
"Well for starters I got some very good news on a hopeful acquisition early this morning. I also laid out Bastille twice and ran a five minute mile afterwards. Oh, and you've got yourself some competition." He points to the colored picture and smiles at it. "She said I reminded her of Eric and then said she was going to marry him." I can't help but giggle and wrap my perfectly clean arms around his perfectly sweaty body.
"And when did all of this transpire may I ask?" I hear him hum appreciatively and suck in a deep breath after burying his nose in my hair.
"Last night after you went to bed. Apparently, Ms. Sophie's a bit of an insomniac so she colored in my office while I finished a few things." Damn it! I missed it! "Isn't this the movie you said you liked? The singing fish or mermaid or something?"
"Yes! You remember that dream I had about Ursula and the boat?"
"Uh. Not really. I remember you saying you liked a cartoon movie and thinking that was really strange." One hand pinches my butt, before gliding under my skirt to cup my ass. "Thongs. I like. But I don't like that you'll be at your office today without me."
"I'll be fine. And nobody will see this butt except you."
"Damn right, Ms. Steele." He pulls away, kisses me quickly and then shoots back, "Next time she sleeps over we should watch that movie with her," before tossing the apple in the air, catching it and walking down the hall. I didn't think I could love him anymore than I already did.
I was wrong.
"I can't believe I've never had this before. This might be the best reason for working here. No offence."
"None taken, I'm glad we could open your horizons." In front of me Eliza stabs at another piece of yellow fin tuna sashimi, drags it through the wasabi soy sauce and then rolls her eyes heavenward while she chews it.
I have come to love this girl. Not like, not appreciate, love. She is my idea of awesome. For all of her gawky, nerdy, unkempt outward appearances, she is probably the most put together person I've ever met. Nothing fazes her, nothing flusters her, she's comfortable in her own skin and is non-judgmental in the most sincere way possible.
And she's a Star Wars geek. Like, she owns every figure, every Lego set, every book ever written about it. I had always liked her but when she told me her password to her computer was hothiscool, she catapulted to the highest level of awesome.
"How'd you learn all those martial arts moves anyway? You seem like a pretty quiet girl, what makes someone like you want to be able to beat the shit out of someone?"
She answers only after she's finished her routine; sashimi, wasabi soy, eye roll, moan.
"Five older brothers. It was eat or be eaten at our house."
"But you're at expert level in three styles." She winks and wiggles her eyebrows at me.
"And I can dismantle, reload and shoot almost any gun you put in front of me. I'm deadly accurate, better than all of my brothers and my dad."
I eye her warily. "You don't have anything on you now, do you?"
"No, of course not. You've got enough security here already, you don't need me and my Beretta to help out."
The rest of lunch is spent planning out next week. With the move on Monday taking up the entire day and Matt not getting back until that night, Tuesday and Wednesday are going to be overwhelming. I'll still need to go to GEH on Thursday for three planning meetings with the Chinese. Christian assured me that he'd be on one of the calls himself but it will be strange to conduct business, at his office, without him there.
Five days away from him is starting to weigh on me. I'd pushed the reality of it to the side and have kept myself busy with work but now that his departure is right around the corner I'm beginning to feel the distance already. Monday morning I plan on scheduling a breakfast with Lillian and we're supposed to have dinner with his parents that night but Tuesday I've purposefully kept our night clear so that we can spend some quality time together.
It's obvious to me that as hard as this separation is going to be for me, it will be even tougher for Christian. I will be here, in our home with our friends and our routines while he will be in a foreign country in a lonely hotel room.
Dr. Fischer has said how good this will be for us and how necessary it is for Christian especially to have time alone to process the new emotions he's recently acquired. I get it, I really do especially since I still feel like much of his progress over the last few months rests on my shoulders.
But what I want for Christian is true inner peace and reconciliation with himself. I want him to know that he's a good person, not just believe it because I say it. I want him to see his value to his family and to the people in his life as something that he's always had, not something brand new because I'm with him.
As to my current state of mind? Well I'm feeling pretty good. I was secretly afraid that sitting down with one of his past lovers would put me in a self-esteem tailspin but just the opposite happened. I sat across from a beautiful intelligent woman who had had the opportunity to be 'the one'. But he hadn't chosen her. He hadn't chosen any of them.
He chose me. Little Anastasia Steele from Montesano who's favorite past time is reading and whose worst habit is forgetting that I can't sing a lick. All those women. Smart, beautiful, groomed for his sexual appetite and yet, it was me whom he fell in love with. Me whom he wants to spend the rest of his life with. Me whom he rushes through work to get home to. And in the still quiet of night it's my name that falls from his lips on a sigh.
If that doesn't help get you over that whole negative self image crap, nothing will. Because in the end, the only opinions I care about are his and mine and that seems to be a slam dunk win.
At three Eliza pops her head into the office. "A Bob Adams is on the phone for you. Said he was your step father?" Bob? Calling here? Guilt prickles all over my body. I didn't reach out to him even once with all the crap my mom did. I hardly knew the guy to begin with but frankly, I just didn't really think about him. Hell, I didn't really think about her unless it was in therapy.
"Hi, Bob. How are you?"
"Ana. I'm…hanging in there. I'm sure you know your mom is getting out next week but I wanted to give you the heads up on her plans. She's not welcome back here, ever, so she's got nowhere to go. Her plan, if you can call it that, is to rent a car and drive to you. With what money I don't know but I thought I should at least let you know." Oh fuck.
"Here? In Washington?" Of course you idiot!
"Yeah, I'm sorry sweetie. This is just a shitty situation all around. I saw the signs, heard the rumors but you know, sometimes you're blind on purpose."
And because I feel the need to explain myself to a man I hardly know but who has been deeply hurt by the same women, I blurt out, "I'm sorry, Bob. For everything. For what she did, for not coming to you first. For not calling you when this all went down. I'm really sorry." He chuckles a deep laugh that makes me think I might actually miss him one day.
"Aw, nobody holds you responsible in the least, kiddo. It's a wonder you turned out the way you did but I guess you've got Ray to thank for that. I'll be ok, got my kids to keep me going and the business so don't you worry about me for a second. I don't mean to overstep, Ana but I'd be remiss if I didn't at least encourage you to remain estranged from Carla. She's a cashew short of the nut house and now that you're with that rich guy, well, just be careful with her."
I laugh, because despite the flare of protectiveness I always get when anyone says something negative about her, I also realize that Bob, well he's earned it.
"Take care, Bob. And thanks for letting me know. I'll make sure to put some strong boundaries in place. As to us reconnecting, don't worry about it, I don't foresee that happening anytime soon." When the line goes dead I feel a twinge of sadness. More than likely, that will be the last time I ever speak with Bob Adams. Not one minute later Eliza knocks on the door again.
"Hey, do you know a Paul Clayton by any chance?" My head whips up to meet Eliza's eyes which grow wide at my obvious concern.
"Why?"
"I was going through the GEH switchboard call log and it says that he calls every day for you. He's not a reporter but they must have instructions not to put him through because his messages get dumped and I get no notification. I recognized the other names as your creepy little fan club, who, by the way, are outside again but his is new this week."
"Does Sawyer know?"
"I told him about an hour ago that they had congregated at the mail drop box on the corner. You know they're all drinking 'your' coffee drink now?"
"Can you go out there and kick their asses for me?" I'm joking of course but when she stands and wipes her palms on her pants I know that should I ever really need protection, she'd be the first in line. "I'm kidding, Eliza!"
"Say the word, Ana. So, Paul?"
"He's an old friend. I didn't realize he was on the proscribed list." Though I'm not in the least surprised. "Just leave it be for now but thanks for letting me know." Does he think I'm going to all the sudden fall in love with someone else? Is he that insecure about my feelings for him?
And just when I start to feel sad at his insecurity when it comes to me wanting to stay with him, the awareness that he had to have known that my mother was getting out hits me like a ton of bricks. He had to have known. But he's said nothing. Hasn't even alluded to it. In fact, recently he avoids mentioning her name as much as I do.
I chose to let the Stiletto Mafia party on my birthday go. Poor guy had enough to deal with yesterday and in reality, what good does it do for me to know about something like that? But this? The rest of the day is spent debating how to approach this. I feel left out and hurt. I should have been the first person to know. Maybe he doesn't know.
I snort and shove my chair back. Christian Grey knows everything. He decides who gets told what and when even when it's not his decision to make. I need to cool off before I bring this up to him though and get all the facts. Maybe he wanted to take me out to dinner and tell me tonight.
At four Sawyer knocks to take me home, all but carrying me to the car due to the paparazzi outside still clamoring for a picture. Of what? Me going home? Losers.
Before Christian can get home I shower, shave and exfoliate. The hot water does a good enough job of relaxing some of the tension from my shoulders that by the time I turn the water off and begin to dry myself, I've made the decision to give him until the end of the night to tell me. If he doesn't, I'm going to verbally flay him and then I'm going to burst from frustration. Until then I'm choosing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
He saunters in, and I do mean saunter, just as I wrap my towel around me after applying my lotion. I bite my tongue to hold back the snark and the accusation. Give him until the end of the night. For now, just have a good time.
"Damn. I missed it." His strong frame leans against the door jam, hands in his pockets, one leg kicked in front of the other in an attempt to look casual but I can see that he's wound tight right now.
"What's up with you?" His head drops to his chest, brows raise and then he kicks off the wall, moves towards me and tugs at the towel leaving it in a heap on the floor.
"What's up? My cock." His pointer finger traces a lazy line across my collarbone and down the valley of my breasts stopping just at my navel. "I didn't get to fuck you last night or this morning. We're screwing around with our average."
"Our average?" That same finger slides further south, his foot nudging my foot so that I open to him. With practiced ease he circles my clit and then steps closer so that his chest is against the side of my body. When his other hand runs over the curve of my butt and then down between my legs, stopping only when he's pushed two fingers inside of me do I realize what he's doing. He grins.
"Payback, baby. You almost killed me that night." Lust becomes a living thing inside of me, snaking down through every pore to twist and turn in my belly until I'm desperate to release it. I can feel him hard against my hip, his shallow thrusts giving him just enough friction to hold himself together. In the mirror I see his forehead leaning on the top of my head, his eyes closed in reverence. Under his fitted white dress shirt the muscles of his arm flex with the small movements of his hands and fingers. Movements concentrated between my legs.
"So wet, Ana. You're always so ready for me. I can't tell you how much that turns me on." Hot breath sweeps down the side of my neck but when I turn my head to kiss the mouth producing it he tsks me and stops moving his hands.
"Eyes forward, Ana. I want you to watch in the mirror while I fuck you with my fingers." He looks with me, lids heavy, face flushed like mine. "Does that feel good, baby? Look at you all breathless with pleasure. Damn you're so fucking hot."
He withdraws his fingers and I watch while he sucks them clean, a look of absolute bliss all over that handsome face. This man is mine. As if he senses my thoughts he looks at me and gently resumes impaling me, the possession slow and steady. My eyes are drawn back to the muscles under his shirt.
"See something you like?" I'd laugh but I'm about to come so I just moan and let my head fall back.
"Eyes on you, Ana. Look in the mirror." His pace doesn't increase but the pressure does and that's where he keeps me for what feels like hours. Standing on the precipice where the pleasure coils so tight you think you might die from it and then he leans in, white teeth nipping at one lobe. "Come for me," he breathes. The coil snaps, lust unleashed to whip through every cell of my body. "Yes." He growls against my ear, removing his fingers just long enough to move behind me.
I don't hear his zipper, don't feel the fabric of his pants still belted to his waist, don't even realize he's bending me forward to grab the counter but I feel him thrust in, long and hard and deep. "Fuck!" He roars, the echo of it bouncing off of the marble walls. Outside of his suit jacket he's fully dressed, the only part of him exposed is his cock which is now clothed in me.
"This is going to be fast and hard, baby." Just what I need right now. Between harsh thrusts he grunts, "I…want…you…so…much." And then the grip of his hands becomes painful, the swell of him inside me stretching me tighter. Liquid heat flows from his body into mine, my cries of ecstasy urging him on until he collapses on my back.
When he finally pulls out and stands I giggle, a trail of his ejaculate tickling my leg all the way down to my knee. At first he looks confused but then laughs at me when I cup myself and walk right back into the shower.
"Aw, damn. I like when you walk around with my cum inside of you." He looks truly forlorn.
"You'll just have to put more there later." I offer, a sweet innocent smile on my face that is the exact opposite of the devilish smirk on his.
"Oh, you can count on it. Now get ready, I want to show you something and I don't want to rush it."
CPOV
"Would you stop staring at me? You're making me nervous!"
"I can't help it, you look amazing. Unbelievably gorgeous. And you're mine." She sighs and swipes another layer of chocolate gloss over her red lips.
"Well you look dangerously hot. I mean, seriously, look at you. How is it possible to be that gorgeous?"
"Just a face, baby." She scoffs and holds out a dainty hand, counting off one by one.
"And a body, and a cock and a mind and a heart and a soul and a spirit. Face it, you're the total package." Her eyes glimmer with mischief. "And you're mine." I laugh.
"Hey, that's my line!"
"Not anymore. I'm adopting it. You are mine as much as I'm yours, right?" I just nod, the ball in my throat getting a little bigger. Sometimes, when she doesn't even realize she's doing it, she guts me and heals me in one fell swoop.
We drive in silence, the lights of the city slowly fading to the greens of manicured lawns.
"Where are we going?" I try not to roll my eyes. Nine times she's asked since we got in the car and each time the answer is the same.
"You'll see."
Inside my heart is beating as fast as hummingbird wings. I am so fucking nervous I can barely speak without choking. What if she hates it? What if she thinks it's too much and is overwhelmed by it? What if she thinks it's too big of a step? A light sheen of sweat covers my entire body even though the August night is relatively cool.
My phone dings with a text.
-All set and unlocked. Yours until 8-
At the gated driveway she looks at me slowly and sits up a bit straighter, her eyes darting from one side to the other. On the left are lavender fields, heavy and fragrant in the summer air and I watch her chest rise as she breathes in deeply. That must be a good sign, right?
With confidence I project more than I feel I open her door for her and take her hand, her shapely legs momentarily distracting me from what we're doing here.
"What's going on?" The urge to pull her tightly to me is one I fight often and one I fight right now. I need to get her inside, show her that back view and let the chips fall where they may. I say nothing, just lead her by the hand into the front door and let it click behind us. The house is empty but not neglected. It needs a major update but my plans are to demolish it anyway and build something entirely new. I can tell by the guarded expression on her face that she's starting to put two and two together.
"Wow. This foyer is as big as mine and Kate's old apartment."
"I want to show you the back deck."
"Who lives here, Christian?" Those sexy Louboutins's stay planted on the marble floor.
"Nobody right now." It's true. We'll move in when the rebuild is completed. Elliot said anywhere from nine months to a year because of all the shit I want done to it.
"Come with me, Ana." To the back deck, through life with me. Just come with me.
Her gasp mirrors mine when I first saw this over a week ago. The sun is low in the sky in front of us casting shadows on the Sound that cause a breathtaking display of colors and glimmers.
"It's…magnificent." Her eyes are looking at the water but mine are looking at her.
"Yes, it is." Deep breath. "Do you like it?" Her hand reaches for mine and squeezes, lingering on the sight before her before she turns to face me.
"I love it." The relief is crippling.
"It's yours. Ours. It's ours but I put it in your name. I want to live here. With you." I'm stumbling over simple words but the general message is clear.
"You…you...you bought me a house? This house? You bought us a house?" My heart is literally hammering at my sternum to get out. I can't breathe fast enough, it feels like a tidal wave is coming my way, emotions I'm unprepared for are rushing towards me and I'm helpless to stop them.
"Yes. I hope you're not upset that I did it without you…I wanted to surprise you and I thought maybe for your birthday but we'll be in Rome for that and then" But she stops me mid sentence, eyes shimmering with tears.
"Marry me." What? "Marry me, Christian Grey." My heart just stops altogether. No beats, no words, no sounds. Just me and Ana. Nothing else exists right now.
"Marry you? Did you just ask me to marry you?" When she nods two tears slip out and run down her cheeks. I'm flabbergasted. Totally and utterly floored right now.
"Yes. I want to be your wife. I want you to be my husband. I want to live here with you and marry you and have babies with you and grow old with you. I want you. The house is great but if we lived in a trailer I'd be happy so long as I could call you my husband."
Just as my knees tingle the stinging in my eyes becomes unbearable and I blink, the sharp lines of the woman in front of me suddenly going blurry.
"You want to marry me? I'm…I'm supposed to ask you, I've…I've got a ring and everything. I was waiting for you to tell me you were ready."
"I just did. I told you. Now marry me, please." Her arms wrap around my neck and I hold her so tightly to my chest that she whimpers but I need the connection. If she lets go, I just may fall to my knees. She wants to marry me.
With a chortle and a quick wipe of my eyes with the back of my hand I release her long enough to grab her face and kiss her hard. She wants to be with me forever.
"I will marry you anytime, anyplace, anywhere." I chortle, again, and then take two paces to the left, face the water and raise my arms whooping as loudly as I can. Next to me she laughs and wipes away her tears, wiping her nose on my hand kerchief that she somehow lifted from my pocket. In a flash she's pinned against me, one hand holding her face to mine, the other pulling her ass against me as tightly as I can. "Mine, Ana. You're mine forever now. You know that, right? Are you ready for that? To be Mrs. Anastasia Grey for the rest of your life because I will never let you go. Ever. This is it for me, Ana. Me and you. A lifetime."
A new stream of tears streak down her face, her head nodding as much as I'll allow it before I kiss her with so much passion that I taste blood. Mine or hers, I don't know and you know what? It doesn't matter because we're one now.
She giggles and wipes her face again. "So this is real, we're really doing this?" Oh, we're really doing this. Tomorrow if I can convince her. My face hurts from smiling so hard.
"Engaged. We're engaged." My fiancé. Holy shit and all that his good, this woman wants to marry me.
"I should call my mom." I want to tell everybody. I want every single person in the world to know that this woman is mine and I am hers. But of all the people in my life, Grace Grey deserves the first phone call.
"OK. I'll call Ray." Green eyes widen on a gasp. "Ray!"
"I asked him weeks ago. He approves." She cries so hard we never do call my mom. Or anyone for that matter. Instead I lay down my shirt in the grass of what is soon to be our backyard and make love to her until the stars come out.
We never do make our dinner reservations.
APOV
Engaged. The word rolls around my head the entire 22 minute drive back to Escala. Christian holds my hand tightly, his beaming smile not once leaving his face. My mom, Paul Clayton…all forgotten topics of conversation for now. All I care about is this little bubble of perfect joy.
On the phone he says something to Taylor about our ETA and just as Ray picks up he turns his face towards the window and says something I can't quite make out. I expected Ray to be happy and he was, but when he sucked in a quick breath I knew he was holding back tears. Joyful or the kind a father sheds when his daughter chooses another man as her number one I'm not sure of.
Grace screams, drops the phone, screams some more and then calls for Carrick who just laughs and congratulates us. We'll keep the secret from everyone else until morning. There is something so intimate about having such a huge, life altering event be known to only a few and right now, I want in that apartment and into that bed with my fiancé.
I asked him to marry me. And he said yes! I asked him! "Are you mad?" I spit out, fear creeping down my spine. Take one control freak who probably had a proposal all worked out and I could have just initiated a disaster.
"Mad?" He looks at me like I'm crazy and parks the car.
"That I asked you. I didn't plan to, it just happened. I couldn't contain it!"
"I'm the furthest thing from mad, Anastasia. I'm so fucking happy right now I don't know what to do with myself. I want to marry you, the proposal was a means to an end." His strong arms lift me, bridal style, and carry me into the elevator, through the great room and into our bedroom which is somehow awash with pale candlelight.
"When did you…how did…" Taylor?
"Shhh." He puts me down on the floor at the end of the bed and lifts a small red box from the covers. How did he do this? When he drops to one knee I almost pass out, the gasped intake of air the only thing stopping me.
"Anastasia Rose Steele, I have been waiting 29 years for you. For 29 years I lived but wasn't alive and then you came into my life and breathed joy and peace and happiness into it. I will love you until the day I die. Marry me, be with me forever."
The lid of that red box flips open to reveal ring I can't see. My eyes are filled with more tears, all of which are falling onto my cheeks and onto his face when I lean down and kiss him.
"Yes. I'll marry you." I hear him heave air into his lungs but it rushes out on a groan and then a grunt as he stands, taking me with him. In an instant the ring is placed on my finger, the ball of emotion so great that I fear it may choke me. Next to me he looks at it with tremendous pride, lifting my hand to his mouth where he kisses it so gently I don't feel it.
"I want to make love to you. Here, in this bed where you gave me your virginity I want to give you my heart." God this man!
"I already have your heart, Christian." He smiles and lifts my left hand to his chest, pressing it flat against his sternum, his palm directly over our engagement ring.
"Yes, you do." He closes his eyes and takes another deep breath to steady his emotions which are blazing behind his eyes. "Forever, Ana. You will own my love forever, do you know that?" And just because I know it will thrill him and please him I lean in and kiss the back of his hand before lifting my eyes to his with a wink.
"I do."