I'm trying to get a lot of context out to you this weekend. Keep an eye out for updates. Hope you enjoy! xox
"8.25 flawless carats," Donald, my jeweler at Cartier, says as he hands me the ring I've had intricately and painstakingly designed for Ana. The clarity and brilliance are astounding. And the platinum and diamond basket setting are breathtaking. Eight carats for eight glorious years of "yes" and a little bit more.
"It's perfect," I say as I take it from his hand, hold it up to the light and examine it. "Now, you've made it a size-and-a-half larger, right?" Ana's fingers have swelled considerably during this last trimester of pregnancy. She's had to take off her wedding rings and wear them around her neck on a chain, which drives me absolutely insane. Any man can use her naked finger as an excuse to sexualize her. She says being eight months along with twins is some sort of a deterrent. Ha! It's like peach pie to the ants at the picnic. What's she going to do when they strike—shake her chain? Though, none of that is the reason I'm buying her the ring. Having a stone that could signal ships and blind dicks is just icing on the cake. I wanted to do this for her. Ana deserves diamonds, always. And tonight is special.
"Yes, just like you asked," he says. "We can re-size it later."
"Good, it'll be perfect for tonight."
"Are you giving Mrs. Grey her push present already?" He's such a nosey little bastard. Although every time Ana gets pregnant, he gets a new Ferrari. Coincidence, I think not. Perhaps he and Dr. Greene are in cahoots.
"This isn't her push present. She's not due until next month. I'll be back for that." The dollar signs immediately flash in his eyes.
"But, your anniversary isn't until the end of July." Of course he remembers my wedding day off the top of his money soaked head.
"This isn't an anniversary gift either," I say. "It's in celebration of the other most romantic, monumentally important day of our lives."
"What's that?" he asks.
"My birthday," I smile.
#######
"Christian, what have you got planned out in the boathouse tonight?" Grace asks as I talk to her on the phone in my study. I peek out the door to make sure Ana is nowhere in earshot. The coast is clear. She and the kids have been working on something in the kitchen that I suspect is for me. I have to laugh, she thinks we're celebrating my birthday with a simple dinner at my parents and then coming straight home. But, I've got a surprise up my sleeve—or rather in a red box in my pocket—that's going to knock her Manolos off.
"Just let the men I've hired do their work, Mom," I whisper, closing the door and heading back to my desk. "It's just a little surprise for Ana."
"For your birthday?"
"As you are well aware, my birthday isn't just my birthday. In fact, eight years ago today my birth slipped to a distant second place in celebratory importance."
"Oh Christian, I remember so well." She starts to sniffle.
"Mom, don't cry. Please."
"I can't help it. I'm so happy." She sobs. I hope there's a tissue nearby.
"It's been eight years."
"The feeling lasts."
I smile. "Tell me about it."
"Can I take a peek out there?" she asks.
"Just a small one. But, don't tell Mia, for heaven's sake." Hell, she'll call Kate and Kate will blab all over creation and the next thing you know the photographer will have his lens so far up in my boathouse he can smell the flowers.
"Okay. I'm running out there now. Happy Birthday, son. And get ready for dinner tonight, because I've made your favorite!"
"The buttermilk fried chicken?"
"No, pork tenderloin." She sounds disappointed. When have I ever been crazy about pork tenderloin?
"My other tied-for-first favorite. Thanks Mom."
"I love you so much. I'm so proud of you."
"Thank you, Mom." I clear my throat. I got a little emotional there and I don't want to let down my big bad wolf guard. Although, I think eight years ago that girl who said yes to me blew that house down. "I love you, too."
The second she hangs up, there's a knock at the door.
"Come in," I call out and Taylor enters.
"Sir, you messaged for me?" he asks, approaching my desk and I stand.
"Yes, it's about tonight."
"What time will you and the family be leaving, sir?"
"Six o'clock. But, that's not why I called you in here."
"Yes, sir?" He looks at me so expectantly, he almost looks more expectant than Ana. Almost. Eight months along with twins is a level of expectant even Taylor can't master.
"Ana and I wanted to ask you something."
"If it's about the oil residue left from my mustang in my garage, that's been fixed, sir. Faulty valve."
"What? No." Does he really think I monitor the floor of his garage or anything shooting out of his valve that closely? "We wanted to invite you and Gail to my dinner tonight."
"Do you need us to watch the children, sir?"
"No."
"Does your mother need help with the cooking and heavy lifting?"
"No."
"Is there a security risk I wasn't aware of, Mr. Grey?"
"No. Nothing like that. It's just an invitation to my birthday dinner, that's all."
He looks at me like he's either contemplating the depth of this moment or something extra slipped out with a silent-but-deadly.
"You really want me to be there, sir?" He's all choked up sounding. Jesus, it's like I offered him the final rose.
"Yes, of course. You two are family. And well, you're sort of like the friend I never had."
"Oh, sir." Now he's a bit teary. It's like watching King Kong fall off the Empire State Building to see Taylor get emotional. Well, he's got the hands for the role, anyway. "Yes, of course we'll be there."
"Good. There will be pork."
"Lovely," he beams. If there are two things Taylor loves, they're war and pork. "And I have something for you, sir." All of a sudden he's got this shit eating grin on his face. Something's always afoot when Taylor looks like he just ate shit.
"For me?"
"For your birthday, Mr. Grey."
"You didn't have to get me anything." Now this is getting weird. First he's coming to my birthday party, then he's giving me a gift. What's next—jagged heart halves on chains around our necks? Oh God, I hope that's not what this is.
"Here," he says as he pulls a small box out of his jacket pocket. "It's just a small something I thought you might want to have."
I open the package and inside is a single, solitary penny.
"You shouldn't have spent so much, Taylor," I tease.
"No, that penny isn't just a penny, sir," he says, pointing at the penny. "That penny is the penny I found on Mrs. Grey's porch the day I dropped her off."
"Dropped her off where?" Why is Taylor taking Ana anywhere without my knowledge and dropping her off, then picking up coins? That penny better not have been on the floor under her skirt!
"Sorry, sir. I should say the day I dropped Miss Steele off."
And like a bolt of lightning shot right through my chest, suddenly I know what he's talking about. The day she left me and he drove her home. The day she cried into his handkerchief. The worst day of my entire life.
"It was a miserable day, raining and everything," he says. "She was crying into my handkerchief as she shut the door."
"I remember all of that," I grimace.
"And I knew her coming into your life couldn't be all for naught, Mr. Grey. She was sunshine to your black miserable cloudy day."
"I didn't know you thought so highly of me, Taylor."
"Well, when I looked down that morning, after she closed her door, I saw it and then I knew."
"Knew what?"
"That you were a lucky s.o.b., sir."
"That I am, Taylor." We both laugh. Well, as much as Taylor ever laughs. It's more of a half smile that could me mistaken by others for indigestion, but I know it's affection.
"Why did you wait so long to give it to me?" I ask.
"With all that was going on at the time, I forgot about it. I had put it with my dog tags and I found it recently when I was trying on my fatigues for Gail—"
"Okay, I don't need to hear about all that—" I say, holding up a hand to hush any talk of dress-up with Gail. "But, thank you, Taylor."
"Happy Birthday, sir." He smiles and heads for the door. "And I'm looking forward to the pork later, Mr. Grey."
"I know." I laugh to myself and shake my head.
After he leaves, I sit in my chair and look at my penny for a moment. To the casual observer there's nothing remarkable about it; it's not shiny or weighted and its monetary value small. But, the man sitting in this chair, after all the billions he's made, would trade it all for this one single cent.
#######
"Daddy, close your eyes," Phoebe says, covering my peepers with her hands as she rides on me piggyback style.
"Yeah Dad, you can't look 'cause it's the hugest surprise of your life," Teddy says as he holds my hand and leads me. Ironic, coming from the mouth of the first hugest surprise of my life. "And if you saw it before it was ready for you, the aliens may have to take you back to their planet."
"I promise you, I can't see a thing." Though I can feel Chester crawling on my neck and inside my shirt collar. Is he wearing high heels with his purple satin ruffled tuxedo birthday party ensemble? Either that or he hasn't had a nail trim for half his life. Maybe he'll spare me a bite on my birthday. Shit, I was wrong.
Suddenly I feel a swoosh of air from an opened door and the scent of chocolate fills my nostrils and takes root in my soul. It's not just any chocolate—it's Ana's. The same frosting she made for me eight years ago and ever since.
"Can he look, Mommy?" Teddy whispers and I can hear Ana whisper back a yes, although Phoebe's arms are wrapped so tightly around my head, I'm surprised my ears even made any of that out.
"Okay, you could look, Daddy," Phoebe yells into my eye as she drops her hands and the first thing I see is Ana holding a cake covered in lit candles that says: Happy Birthday Dad—dy. The last part didn't fit, so it's written on the side of the cake.
"Is this for me?" I ask as I help Phoebe slide off my back and into my arms.
"Yeah, 'cause it's your birthday day and it's the special-est day," Phoebe says, and with her arms wrapped around my neck she gives me a big kiss on my cheek.
"Well, I love it." I pull Teddy in tight to my leg and ruffle his hair. "And I love you guys so much." Phoebe tucks her head into my shoulder and Teddy hugs snug to my leg. And Ana is standing there watching us as the candlelight flickers in her eyes and warms the color of her hair. Ana—she's magic.
"Happy Birthday to you..." Ana leads the kids into traditional song as Teddy pulls me to the kitchen table where there's a set-up of balloons and wrapped presents and a stuffed frog in a tie holding a small bouquet of meadow flowers. When Ana sets the cake down in front of me, it reminds me of the first time she gave me that cake, but it's definitely not the same. It's even better.
"You look like a monkey and you smell like one, too," the kids sing and laugh hysterically at the close of the song.
"You think that's funny do you? To call your father a monkey?" I ask as I tickle them both, sending them into giggle oblivion, then pull them onto my lap. They're getting so big now. They're not my babies anymore, they're real little people.
"Blow out your how many sticks," Phoebe says.
"My how many sticks?" I ask. She's wearing her tiara and her fourth birthday dress that I had made for her by Givenchy for her special princess party. The sleeve is a bit torn and the seams have done their job well, but are near ready for retirement in the closet. The truth is she's already growing out of it and before I know it she'll be five.
"Yeah, how many fingers you is old," she says.
"How many fingers old are you, Dad?" Teddy asks.
"Thirty-six," I say and they look at me like I'm Methuselah's great granddad.
"How did you ever find enough hands for all your fingers?" Phoebe asks.
"Well, I use all of your hands," I say, taking her hand and kissing her palm. "When I didn't have enough of my own, I used your mother's, and you two, and the babies, too. All of your fingers helped me to get to my birthday today."
I look over at Ana, who's smiling and there's a tear in her eye. If you would've asked that twenty-seven-year-old kid the day before he met her where he'd be at this age, it surely wouldn't be here.
"Well, you could keep one of my hands," Phoebe says. "But, I need the other or I'll never have the fingers to turn five."
"It's only a loan," I say and pretend to nibble her fingers and she giggles. If only holding onto her hand would keep her my baby girl forever.
"Happy Birthday, Mr. Grey," Ana says and gives me a kiss on the head.
"It is the happiest," I say, and lean over to kiss her belly.
"You gotta make your wishes, Daddy!" Phoebe says.
"Oh yeah?" I ask. "What should I wish for, guys?"
"You have to wish from your heart," Phoebe says. "'Cause your heart knows what it loves."
"It's got to be the biggest, most bestest, something you never thought could come true wish," Teddy says.
"Well, then I know exactly what I'll wish for."
I smile and close my eyes tight, listening to my heart as I'm surrounded by the ones it loves most, and wishing for nothing at all. I already have everything I never thought could come true and a whole lot more.
"Mommy said because it's your birthday you could eat cake before dinner at Grandma and Grandpa's," Teddy says.
"Well, it definitely is my birthday, then." I smile and look at the cake in front of me. The frosting is uneven, the writing is a bit of a mess and the layers aren't stacked properly so half of the back is cracked and about to break off—it's perfect.
"We got you presents, too," Phoebe says as she slides off my lap and grabs a long, flat box wrapped in paper with little white mice in party hats and Hawaiian shirts dancing around on it.
"Did Chester pick this wrapping out?" I ask.
She nods. "But, he doesn't want to be their boyfriends. He likes the bigger girls."
"He does?" Are the mice wearing the Hawaiian shirts women? News to me.
"Yeah, like Henrietta," she says. Oh yes, his pig girlfriend. "Or this new chicken he met he wants to marry maybe."
"Where did Chester meet a chicken?" I ask, hoping we don't have a surprise guest in the barn.
"The petting zoo," Ana says and smiles.
"Better not tell Boone," I say.
"Boone doesn't like girls as much," she says. "He likes his freedom and his apartment."
"The girls don't like his apartment?" I ask.
"No, they love it, but no girls like a boy who eats his crackers on the floor."
"Tell me about it; I had to stop all my cracker eating ways when I married your mother." I look up to Ana, who smiles and rolls her eyes.
"I'm gonna eat crackers forever," Teddy says. "I just don't care what nobody says!"
"Give it a few years," I smile as I open Phoebe's gift. There's a picture she's drawn inside. It's me, or at least I think it's me. It's a man's face with brown hair and little reddish-orange zig-zags at the top that look like lightning bolts made out of spaghetti, though I suspect they're supposed to be my copper highlights. The man's got gray eyes and a five o'clock shadow and he's holding a briefcase with papers sticking out of it that say: work, work, work. There's also a bubble coming out of my mouth that reads: Taylor, get on it!. The only thing that makes me question if this really is me is the fact that this man is wearing a shirt and tie on top, but what looks like a Cinderella hoop skirt and glass slippers on the bottom.
"This is beautiful, Phoebe," I say and she smiles. "Is this me wearing a princess dress?"
"Yes," she says. "Because this is you in the top part when you go to working," she points. "And this is you in the bottom part when you come home and play princesses with me." This makes me smile. "And the top part is just covering the Cinderella dress for your working, so they don't know you're really a princess underneath your clothes."
"You have captured me brilliantly," I say and give her a big kiss on her head. "I will frame this and put it in my office." I look over to Ana. "There's a perfect place for it right next to my glider." She smiles and blows me a kiss.
"Mine next," Teddy says and he runs to grab a package wrapped in the funny papers; taped up with some return address labels that Ana must've bought through the PTA because there's no way in hell I would've ever chosen to put our address next to Tweety Bird in seasonal outfits; and twine.
"I wrapped up your present with stuff that we already had so it would be good to the earth, 'cause I know you like saving the world and trees and air and stuff."
"What a wonderful thing you've done," I say and bring him in for a big hug. "That was very thoughtful. I love it."
"You gotta see what's inside," he says, jumping up and down like ants are in his pants.
I open the package, careful not to damage all his work, and I pull out season tickets to the Seahawks for two.
"Mommy bought them, but it was my idea, because I thought once the babies were here we could go to all the games this year just the two of us. So we could have some alone man time."
"I think that is a great idea. I love them so much." I hug him tight. My first baby. "And think of all the junk your mother can't see us eating."
"Yeah!" he says, throwing his arms in the air. Ana just shakes her head.
"Taste your cake, Daddy!" Phoebe grabs for a chunk with her hand, but I pull her back before it lands splat in the frosting, and Ana reaches over to cut me a slice.
It's funny how many years and memories and emotions a slice of birthday cake evokes. Early on you chose your flavor and it tends to stay with you, and every birthday after you taste the birthdays that came before. I can still remember how my birth mother looked that year she made my cake—the first one I can remember. I can still taste the batter from the bowl she gave me to lick and I remember her singing to me. Her celebrating my life was something I'd never known before and never knew again. It only happened once, but it stays with me. And I didn't like birthday cake at all after that day. I guess I didn't want to chance remembering any part of my birth mother well. I hated her and the flavor of chocolate might make me smile at her memory. But now, because of that first birthday with Ana, and the years following with my kids, I can finally taste how sweet it all is.
#######
"Why are you so dressed up?" Ana asks me as I step out of my dressing closet in a charcoal suit and our favorite tie, and into the bedroom where Ana's getting ready in her pink satin robe.
"I thought it would be nice to look festive," I say, hoping that sounded believable. I don't want to let on to my surprise for her.
"And you're wearing your wedding cuff links..." she squints an eye trying to squeeze my secrets out of me as she smoothes lotion over her arms.
"It's because I love them." I move toward her. "And you." I lean over and kiss her lips and she sets the jar of jasmine scented cream down.
"I need to get dressed, Mr. Grey," she says as she places a hand on my chest and backs away, dropping her robe seductively, leaving my eyes to feast on the beauty of her motherly body in harlot red lingerie.
"You look phenomenal," I say, my tongue nearly numb around those syllables as I dropped-jaw gape at her.
"Do you like?" she asks and nibbles on her lower lip.
"Like? I love."
"I picked this out special for your birthday." She slides a manicured finger along the lace trim of her ample cleavage.
"Oh Ana..." I move in behind her, since it's easier these days than moving in front of her, and wrap my arms around her waist, resting my hands on her bump. My arm are practically straight and I still can't reach the front. "This is the perfect birthday gift." I nuzzle her neck.
"Well, you're going to have to wait all through dinner knowing what's under my clothes and what's waiting for you in our bedroom tonight."
Damn.
"This red is perfect." I run my finger along her bra strap. "I thought you could wear the red satin dress I bought you." Lord, her skin and hair smell so good.
"To your parents' house?" she asks.
"Why not?"
"Because it's more like a nightgown."
"True, I don't want anyone looking at these." I brush my fingertips on her nipples. They stand at attention at my attention and so does my dick. "Just wear your velvet jacket over it and you can take it off for me later." I kiss her ear. "It is my birthday after all."
"Okay," she says and turns her head up to look at me. "You're being very strange tonight."
"Nothing different than usual." I smile against her cheek. "Now then, we still have a good twenty minutes..." I move my hands down to her behind and tuck my fingers into the back of her lace underwear. "Maybe you can give me a preview of my birthday present..."
More to come...