Hi guys! Thanks for your reviews and support of my stories! It means the world! If I make you wait, it's because I want to take my time to give you my best. Thank you for your patience! There will be a Darker update soon, I promise! I'm chopping this one up, as there is a lot of material. Hope you enjoy and there's way more to come! I was thinking about doing a one shot election story where Phoebe runs for preschool president and Christian heads her campaign... xox
"The witches are coming! The witches are coming!" Phoebe yells as she bounds down the stairs and into the living room dressed in full revolutionary garb as Paul—or rather Paulette Revere for the show today. I'm tempted to ask if Aunt Kate and the photographer are here, but I refrain.
"Phoebe, it's the British, not the witches," I say. "And it's not Halloween. It's the Fourth of July." Chester, who's on her shoulder in a powder blue wig and tuxedo tails that frame his own, stands on his hind legs, hissing at me for no reason other than the fact he wishes me harm. Typical. Who would've ever thought a hamster would tell me to go fuck myself daily and I'd buy him a Versace wardrobe.
"Oh yeah. I forgetted again." She scrunches her nose up at me. "Why can't it be Halloween yet? Or Christmas!"
"Because you have to have fireworks before you get the costumes and candy, and then once you deal with some colossal turkey and a Black Friday it's all tinsel and candy canes from then on out." I think I just described Ana and my love story in a holiday themed nutshell. Though we had more than one colossal turkey to deal with, and after all this time the photographer's still around.
Speaking of turkeys...
"Can Boone come with us to our boat, Daddy?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"He could accidentally fly up and fall off, and he doesn't know how to swim."
"Uh huh. Teddy and I teached him in his bubble tub." Oh that's right I had a therapeutic bath installed in that barn bachelor pad for what Phoebe called his achy leg muscles from having to carry around so much chest. Elena complained about that after she got silicone double d's.
"Swimming is not the same as bathing," I say. Maybe I should embroider a towel with those words and gift it to Elliot.
"Oh no!" Phoebe gasps. "I almost didn't 'member to give Boone his happy birthday 'merica socks." She pulls out a pair of Stars and Stripes knit booties—made to fowl specifications— and then starts to take off for the yard.
"Not so fast." I catch her and kneel to face her. "You're not running out to the barn by yourself in those colonial death trap shoes. You'll slip. Plus, it's too far. What are the rules?"
"Don't go walking off without your mommy, or your daddy, or your Taylor," she recites.
"And how long do these rules apply?"
"Until I'm thirty."
"Exactly." I know that's ridiculous. It'll last way past thirty.
"But, Boone will be sad and his feet will be naked and he can't celeb-er-ate the birthday of 'merica right if he has no sparkles and cold toes." She looks up at me all pouty, lip quivering with disappointment, just like Ana. It stabs me through the heart every fucking time.
"Okay, tell you what. I'll give it to him. But, you keep your own revolutionary toes out of the mud and slippery puddles." I look to the colonial rodent who looks like he's about to defect to my neck by way of his teeth. "That goes double for you, Chester." Of course he hisses at me. And then I notice he has the same patriotic socks. Who's making these things—Gail?
"Thank you, Daddy." She hands me the socks that I put in my pocket, and throws her arms around my neck for a hug. I have to laugh. I used to control everyone in my universe. Now, a four-year-old little girl has me delivering socks to her pet turkey like I'm Amazon next day air. And I'm smiling about this.
"Why do I gotta be a clock?" Teddy asks, adjusting his costume as he stomps down the stairs.
"I thought you were excited about being a minute man," I say, standing again.
"Yeah, but I thought I'd just have to wear the watch, not be the watch." He adjusts the gigantic clock face on his torso.
"Well, some men have greatness thrust upon them..." I say.
"Can I wear my princess tiara in the show, Daddy?" Phoebe asks. I can just imagine that on Revere's ride. They'd all claim traitor.
"No, the forefathers were against kings and queens and princesses."
"Who would ever be so weird not to like princesses?" she scrunches her nose.
"Who are the four fathers?" Teddy asks. "I thought you only had just one."
"Not four—fore. As in before," I say.
"Before what?" he asks.
"Before anything made sense," I say. "Ask me after."
"We should get going, the family will be at the boat, shortly," Ana says as she starts down the stairs followed by Gail. God, Ana's beautiful. She's worn her hair up so I can see the length of her neck. Oh, how I wish I could have her. It's been three long days and three even longer nights. I think my cock assumes I went to prison, as he's certainly trying to escape the bars of my zipper. I want to run my tongue down Ana's neck and suck on her earlobe. But, wait...
"Ana, you shouldn't be doing that!" I say.
"Doing what?"
"What you're doing!"
"Walking?"
"Down the stairs, yes!" I make a run for it, taking two at a time until I reach her.
"How else do I get down?" she asks. Fuck. Why didn't I install an elevator? You're an idiot, Grey. Next kid for sure!
"I'll help you," I take her hand, and as our skin touches the electricity that has been unsated pulses in our veins. Yes, I definitely need to install an elevator!
"We'll be late if we don't hurry," she says, and as we reach the bottom I just want to reach for her juicy top, but I refrain. "The drive is farther to our boat than it would be going the Tidwilers who are only eight minutes away, you know." She cuts her eyes up to me. Oh no. She's still pissed at me for pulling the rug out from their damn celebration. Oh, fuck Tidwiler. I gave him a hundred dollar bill for that $99 box of fireworks he bought. He should be happy. He profited and now he can have his sex party and set them off in the middle of the night while heavily intoxicated. It's a win-win-win for him.
"Jason has the car running," Gail says. "I'll take the children out."
"I get the way way back!" Teddy says and runs for the door.
"No, me!" Phoebe says and she races to push her way past him.
"You'll sit where there are fully functioning seat belts!" I yell out. What is it about the way way back anyway? Elliot and I used to fight over that in Mom's station wagon, but that's just because Elliot wanted to sneak candy and nudie magazines and I wanted to sulk. It's a place where all childhood crimes take place. So, the way way back is way way outlawed by Dad.
"Thank you, Gail," Ana calls out, smiling at her, but not at me.
"Ana, you're not still mad that I insisted the show be on The Grace, are you? I told you, I'd feel more comfortable to have control of the surroundings with you almost due—"
"Why didn't you come to bed last night?" she snaps. This is what she's so upset about?
"What? I was working, I told you." I gulp, much like Washington, I'm finding it impossible to tell Ana a lie.
"You were working the whole night until morning, where you slinked into the shower and didn't invite me?" She squints her eyes in suspicion.
"We can't have sex, how could we possibly be alone and naked in box of steam?"
"So, you just decided to sleep at your desk and never come to bed at all?"
"No. I mean yes. I mean..." Fuck. She's caught me. But, as much as this pains me, I have to dodge her. She'd never understand the truth about why I had to spend the night alone with another man...
"Taylor, I need a word that rhymes with Delaware!" I said, feverishly typing on my laptop at my desk in my study.
"Summer hair?" Taylor said. I looked up at him to see if he was fucking serious. He was.
"Summer hair?!"
"The grass blew soft like summer hair as I led my men across the Delaware," he recited, too well for me to feel comfortable with in a dimly lit, late night, dark wooded situation. It did rhyme, though.
"This isn't a skip-along through the flowers! What the hell does summer hair have to do with the dead of winter in revolutionary wartime Delaware?"
"The hope for a better tomorrow, sir..."
I shook my head. I thought he was supposed to be a hardcore military man, not Bob Dylan.
"I have it," I said. "Not wind, nor sleet, nor enemy dare will stop my men's cross of the Delaware."
"That's quite good, Mr. Grey."
"I know. Where are you on the tea party?"
"Just throwing it overboard, sir." I vaguely wondered if Twinings English Breakfast was a thing back then, and if I should buy a load in honor of Ana. Yeah, fuck it, why not.
"How much more of it do we have?" I asked as I looked at the clock that read 4:22 a.m.
"Only ninety-seven and a quarter more pages to go, sir."
"Oh my god!" I swore, but I just kept on typing.
"Ana, I told you, it was just work—"
"What could you possibly have to work on until 7:03 this morning when you entered the bathroom?" she asks and folds her arms over her belly. Fuck, she actually spied the clock on my shit. Like literally on my shit. She means business.
"Ana, I—" I say, about to blurt out some word clutter for my defense, when I give her the once over, thrice. I've been staring at her breasts so much, I hadn't noticed the horror of the ruffles and the apron and the laced up boots in front of my eyes. "What are you wearing?"
"My Dolly Madison outfit." She shrugs. The shrug jiggles her perfect tits, but I have to remain focused on enemy ruffles.
"Oh no, you're not!"
"Oh yes, I am. And you're not getting off the subject—"
"Ana, we've had this discussion. You're not tiring yourself out doing the show today. You're nearly due with twins! You need to relax—"
"Christian, it's one line. All I have to say "My oh my," the fireworks sound and the flag is raised. It's fifteen minutes. Dr. Greene said it was okay."
Which is suspicious. Dr. Greene says no sex, but acting is allowed. I think Dr. Greene did it to fuck with me by having it so my wife couldn't fuck with me. Gynecologists really do have men by the balls.
"Ana, I just don't know about this."
"Then just don't know, because I do." She grins, but not happily, more like she's flipping me off with her lips. Such attitude today. She's hormonal, so I'll shut my trap before I fall into one. "Now, we'll be late. Will you walk me to the car?"
"Yes," I say. "But, I have to do something before we leave."
"What?"
"I have to put socks on Boone."
#######
"Rocketz glare and bombz mid air have called our nation's rise, and now the foot of Whipple stands on Plymouth Rock, ready, steady and wise," I practice read as Taylor helps me into my costume in a guest bedroom at the bottom of the boat. I've ordered—or more like pleaded with— Ana to rest before the show in our master suite. We'll see how long that lasts. Defying me is her favorite pastime. "Plymouth Rock? Why is there still so much bullshit here?"
"Because if we cut everything that you deemed the feces of intact cattle, we'd have no show, sir."
"But, this thing goes on forever! It'll be the next Fourth of July before we get halfway through."
"I'll try to fall fast, Mr. Grey." What the hell is he saying? Oh, the cherry tree chopping incident.
"Why are you fiddling with my lapels so much?" I ask as he continues to finger them.
"I'm trying to turn you on, sir."
"What?
"I'm looking for the place that makes you light up."
"Taylor, this is fucking weird. Even for you."
"For your jacket, Mr. Grey. The button. To illuminate it."
I turn to look at myself in the full length mirror.
"Why does it have Christmas lights stuck all over it?" I ask.
"They're independence lights. For the big finale, sir." He smiles excitedly as he grabs for my cuff, presses down and I do light up, quite literally, like the the Fourth of July. "I found it!"
"This is fucking ridiculous," I say, watching as I twinkle, flickering on and off.
"Just press this little button on your sleeve after Mrs. Grey's line and before the fireworks begin, sir."
"Why do I look like the casino Vegas forgot and you're wearing a brown turtleneck and corduroy pants?" He looks like he's about to read me poetry and offer me red wine while we talk about our feelings. Actually, he reminds me of Flynn.
"I'm a tree, sir. I need to blend in with the bark."
"Oh right." I adjust my wig. "It won't stay."
"Here, let me help." He pulls out a bottle of some stuff you'd expect a mad chemist to mix into a beaker before he makes a man an evil bionic version of himself and sets him loose in society.
"What is that?" I ask.
"Wig adhesive, sir." He takes out the little brush from the bottle and the smell nearly knocks me out.
"I don't want this thing glued to my head."
"You don't want to lose your hair in the ocean before you sign your name to the Declaration of Independence, Mr. Grey." There's a line I never thought I'd hear Taylor say.
"Fine. Just a little." He smears the smelly glob of glue all across my skin. "Has this been approved by the FDA?"
"I'm sure it has," he says, but he doesn't sound convinced.
"That's enough!" I swat him away.
"But, you have frayed edges, sir."
"Good. It's my subliminal message to the audience of how pissed off I am about this fucking thing." I give him a look. "Put the bottle away, Taylor."
"Yes, sir." He follows instruction.
"You glued it too high on my right side, now my eyebrow's all stretched and raised," I say, examining myself in the mirror. "I look like I'm suspicious of everyone."
"You are, sir."
"Funny."
"Do you want me to reposition it?"
"No, keep your toxic glue away from me. I'd rather have a raised brow for a few hours than lung cancer."
"Yes, Mr. Grey."
"Are the fireworks set?" I ask.
"Permit obtained and explosives in position, sir." He's so damn excited about the prospect of lighting things off.
"Good. You sure you know how to do them?"
"I've been in charge of major stockpiles of ammunition, explosives and missiles my whole adult life, so I'm most ready for a fireworks show, sir."
"Don't salivate all over your bark," I say. "How about the script changes? Are they ready for distribution?"
"Affirmative. But sir, I do have one question. How are we going to ensure Tilly keeps her mouth quiet once the changes take place on stage?"
"Trust me, Taylor. I have a plan for that."
########
"Tilly, I need to speak to you," I whisper to her up on deck and pull her aside. She looks so excited, like I'm going to make out with her before home room behind the gymnasium. I have to swallow the vomit that just shot up my throat thinking about that prospect.
"What is it Mr. Grey?" Tilly asks. That costume she's wearing looks less revolutionary political wife and more can-can girl who really can't can't.
"I've invited a special friend here today," I whisper, conspiratorially. "And by special I do mean special."
"Really? Special?" Her chest heaves and I have to dodge the boulders.
"Don't say anything," I say, looking around to ensure secrecy. "But, he's from a big Broadway production outfit and he was enthralled, absolutely enthralled reading your work."
"I know it has that effect."
"He wants to see it on its feet before he makes any big, important decisions," I say and her eyes light up like she's getting three scoops for the price of one. "So, we must remain polished and professional at all times... no matter what happens."
"Of course, Mr. Grey, I'll be in character from here on out," she says, fluttering the webs Charlotte's evil imposter spun at the edge of her eyelids. "This is so exciting! I'm going to have my mother cinch my corset tighter." She moves away.
"Don't hurt yourself," I call out, but she's gone.
"Grey," a man's garbled voice startles me from behind and I turn.
"Tidwiler," I say.
"Your boat is nice," he grimaces.
"Thank you," I say, with a suspicious squint.
"You coming to my after party tonight?" he practically growls.
"No."
"Good." Then, he walks away. What a fucking nut.
"Here ye, here ye, baby bro," Elliot says, approaching me in full theatrical garb to play Thomas Jefferson. Asshole. My brother, not Jefferson. I'm sure Tom was lovely.
"Elliot, or should I say cracked pillar of our nation's history?"
"You could say that." He laughs. "I've never been a pillar before."
"You've never been a lot of things."
"Cute jacket," Kavanagh says, hooked on him, but referring to the number on me. "Let me guess, you're playing the kite Ben Franklin catches lightning with."
"Hilarious." I sarcastically smile. "I don't want to linger to converse, so I'll hand this off." I look around before I shove a copy of the new scenes into Elliot's hands.
"What's this?" he asks.
"Changes from up top."
"Tilly never said anything about changes," he says.
"She left it to me."
"There have been changes nobody knows about?" Kate asks, scrunching her nose and putting on her junior reporter hat. It's so junior she couldn't even get it together as a senior to interview me for the student paper. Thank God!
"That's why I'm passing them out. For you to know about them."
"My part better still be the same," Kavanagh snarks.
"Yes, Betsy Ross still sews the flag." I roll my eyes. And I still have to live through that nails on a chalkboard rendition of A Needle and Thread Runs Through It.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asks.
"Like what?"
She mimics my arched brow. Oh, the glue.
"I looked at you and it just froze that way," I say, and she rolls her eyes.
"Uncle Christian," Ava says, tugging on my sleeve, which then immediately lights up. "I know who you are!"
"Who?"
"The leader of the troll people who live under ground and light up our houses and charge monies and then if you don't pay they hide under your bed and eat your toes if you hang them off the side."
"Yep, you guessed it." I switch myself off.
"Ava!" Phoebe yells when she sees her cousin and they embrace, jumping up and down. "You get to play one of the peoples I yell at!"
"Yeah," Ava says. "You better wave special to me when you go by my house!" Oh right, Ava plays one of the townspeople on Paulette Revere's ride.
"Dad, Fritzy's a clock, too," Teddy says, running up with him.
"Congratulations," I say down to Fritzy.
"Thank you," Fritzy says, but you just know he's not sincere. He's the kind of kid that would say thank you for a piece of candy while pocketing three.
"Hey, where are your life jackets?" I ask all the kids.
"They don't go pretty with our costumes, Daddy," Phoebe says.
"Too bad, you know the rules." I walk to the holder and pull some child-sized versions out. "All the kids wear them." I put it on Phoebe and hand one to Kate to fit on Ava, and the boys strap into their own.
"Aww, Dad a clock with an orange vest looks dumb," Teddy says.
"Better dumb and living than smart and drowning." I move to him to secure his.
"Where's Chester's?" Phoebe asks and I reach back in, pull the custom made number out and hand it to her.
Fritzy tugs on my arms. "It matches my dad's shoes." He then sticks his head through one of the arm holes and twirls around. What's the deal with that family and orange?
"Where is your father?" I ask. He points to the bar. Figures.
Speaking of the bar...
"Christian!" Carla waves, cocktail already in hand as she stands with Bob and my parents in the distance. They really are the quartet these days. Speaking of people who should be wearing life vests. At least we'll only be a short distance out when the play and fireworks take place. There's no way I'll be stuck out at sea with Ana so pregnant, two drunk grandmothers and so many people I can't fucking stand.
"Carla," I say, giving her a kiss on the cheek as she, Bob and my folks make their way over to us. "Glad you can make it."
"We can always make it when you send your private plane," she says, and she and my mother giggle. About what, I have no idea. I don't think they do, either.
"Well, it's Ana's plane, too. So, we're happy to send it for you," I say. "Hello Bob."
"It's so cool how I don't have to check my luggage in," Bob says, with a handshake only a baboon could appreciate. If I was a small man, my feet would leave the ground. "And you have way better peanuts."
"They're not peanuts," Carla says. "They're cashews."
"That's why they're better!"
The quartet laughs.
"I always say, chose the right nut for the job," I say, and I spy Taylor fiddling with the fireworks in the distance on the dock. I think he's going through a mock trial of the events later in his mind. I see he's stock piled the Twinings for the drop, as well.
"Oh Christian, you look so cute!" my mother says, giggling. "I can't wait to see you up there on stage. Let me take a picture." She pulls out her iPhone and starts snapping away. She acts like this is my school performance. I guess, in some odd way, she's reliving the childhood I never was able to have now. Maybe I am, too.
"Isn't this a great picture," Grace says, showing it off.
"Mom, my eyes aren't even in it."
"I wanted the costume!"
"How long has Ana been pregnant with this baby?" my grandfather asks, far too loudly. His hearing aid broke last week, so everything is at amped volume.
"It's two babies," my grandmother says, waving her hand to hush him.
"She's been knocked up twice since we ate that blue cake?" He winks at me and claps his hands like he's applauding a one man circus. "Damn you've been busy!"
"Not that busy," I mutter and sigh.
"Daddy, Uncle Jose is here!" Phoebe says, as she and Ava take my hands and drag me over to him. Why are they doing this?
"Yay," Ava says. "He's my favorite uncle."
"He's not your uncle, I am."
She looks up at me like I told her Rudolph wasn't really a reindeer. Damn, that guy has infiltrated my life! The disease of his kind not only infected my generation, it's going to infect generations to come.
"Uncle Jose," the girls say as they run up to him and he kneels down for hugs.
"Okay, enough hugging. You'll scuff up your costumes," I say.
"Hey Christian!" Jose says as he stands and then gives me a half hug. But, half a hug from Jose is still too much of a hug.
"Why are you here?" I ask. I always ask.
"To take pictures," he says. "And I brought my dad."
"Of course," I wave to Jose Sr. No holiday would be complete without a man completely unrelated to us who hates being here and wishes me ill will. After all these years I get no more than a grunt out of him. Today I think it's something about being seasick. Just what I need Photographer Sr. vomit all over the deck. Wait, wasn't he in the navy?
"Where's Ana?" Jose asks.
"Resting," I say. "Why?"
"I just wanted to take some pictures of her costume."
"I'm sure," I say. "Don't worry about it. I'll take the all the photos of that."
"Hey, there's Mia." He waves at her in the distance and she waves back, then he takes off fast, leaving me awkwardly standing with his father, as Phoebe and Ava have now devoted their interest to Chester's shiny jazz pants. What a douchebag. I swear, that guy doesn't quit! I'm about to follow and shove his lens up his ass when Ray rushes up to me from behind.
"Christian!" Ray says. He's dressed like Uncle Sam. He's not in the show. He just does this every year.
"Hello Ray," I say. "You're friend is here." They exchange a nod. It's the most excited I've see Jose Sr. get since I tripped on a tree wire at Christmas and spilled nog all over the fireplace.
Where's Ana?" Ray asks.
"I was actually just about to check on her. She's supposed to be resting."
Kavanagh breezes past.
"Oh yeah, Ana was up here looking for you before. She went to lie back down," Kavanagh says, overhearing our conversation, then adding her four cents short of a nickel. "She wanted to see you."
"When was this?" I ask.
"Before you came up here."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I just did." She smirks.
God, Kavanagh is a pain. But, I pay no mind to her royal bitch-foolery. I take off fast to find Ana.
"Ana," I say, entering the master suite. I find her propped up on the bed. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes," she says, but she looks away. She doesn't seem okay. She's sniffing. Is she crying?
"Is something wrong? I'll get a doctor. We'll get you to the hospital."
"No, I feel fine. I'm just not happy..." She looks up at me. "About us."
Oh. My. God.
My whole life flashes before my eyes as my jacket does the same. Does she no longer love me? Is she really leaving me when she's nearly due with our twins and while I'm dressed as an electrical parade version of a political figure no one's ever heard of? This has to be the hormones, right? If not, my existence is over.
"Ana, what do you mean?" I'm frozen.
"I know why you didn't come to bed last night."
"You do?" I ask, switching my lights off. Did Kate slip her the script? Is that why she's in tears? Is she really this upset over a re-write of Whipple?
"I do."
"Ana, I don't think you understand—"
"It's written all over your face, and spelled out with your body language."
"What?" It's all I can say. If my body is talking right now it's speaking Swahili, because I don't know what the fuck it's saying.
"What you're trying to hide from me is that you didn't want to sleep next to me, because you don't want to touch me anymore." She wipes away a tear.
"Ana, it's not that." I rush to her. "Of course I want to touch you. I want to touch, and squeeze, and suck, and lick every part of you." I lose my train of thought for a moment thinking of the licking of every part. "But, we're not supposed to do that stuff."
"I don't like this," she says, and reaches up and grabs me by the belt, thrusting me forward, and undoing it with her fast hands. Oh my god, is she going to break my dick?
"Ana, you might want to think about whatever you're doing."
"I don't have to. I need you. Now!" She pulls my boxer briefs down like a whore's drawers and my manhood springs free. Fuck, am I hard. Three days and it's like I'm fossilized.
"Ana—"
"I want you any way I can get you." She immediately spits on her hand, wraps her fingers around my length, and strokes me up and down.
"Dr. Greene said no orgasms," I say and try to pull away, but her grip is strong and her fingers so nice. My protests are weak as I involuntarily start to pump into her hand.
"None for me, but she didn't say anything about you." She circles her tongue around my tip.
Holy hell.
"Ana, I can't do this and not pleasure you." Oh but her mouth feels so good.
"This is pleasuring me." She swirls her tongue around and around and where she stops nobody knows or fucking cares as long as she keeps doing that.
"But, the show is going to start," I mutter incoherently as she takes me fully inside her mouth and I reach the back of her throat. Sooooooo deep.
"Better come fast, then." She bobs up and down. Ana's always good at giving head, but today she's going for the Oscar, the Grammy and the Adult Film Award all at once. Fuck, this is so hot!
"Ana, you don't have to..." But, please do.
"You taste so good." She swirls her tongue around my tip, tasting my precum.
"Oh Ana." I grab her hair and she takes me into her mouth deeper and deeper. It's been a frustrating three days, so coming fast is not a problem. I pump myself into her mouth again and again. Only a few thrusts more and I explode, shooting ropes of come down the back of her throat. She sucks and slurps every last drop from me and my release extends on and on. While this is happening, she must've grabbed my sleeve, because when I remove myself I'm all lit up, figuratively and literally.
"Oh fuck," I say as I pull away from her and she licks her lips. There is nothing hotter than my wife tasting away my come from her mouth. "Oh baby, you didn't have to do that." I stroke her hair.
"I wanted to."
"Oh Ana." I pull my pants up fast and turn off my jacket before curling up with her on the bed. "I'm sorry if I was being distant. I just love you so much. I didn't want to take even a slight risk of you getting heated up and it hurting you."
"I'm fine, Christian. I just missed you so much. I missed being close."
"I missed you, too, Mrs. Grey." I kiss her head. "It's killing me I can't make you come. It's like I didn't do my job."
"You'll have to make it up to me big time in a few months."
"Don't say months again." I laugh. It's going to be a long one.
"I'm glad you're still attracted to me."
"Oh Ana." I cup her face. "You just don't know, do you?"
"Don't know what?"
"How ever since I first laid eyes on you, you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. And you still are."
"I'm nothing like I was then." She strokes her belly.
"Me, neither." I smile and then I lean in and kiss her lips softly. "And thank God for that." I stroke her face and wipe a teardrop away with the pad of my thumb. "Now, Mrs. Grey, there is nothing more I'd like than to hold you here all afternoon. But, we have a show to do. Are you sure you're up to it?"
"I'll be fine, Christian. It's only three little words. What harm could three little words bring?"
And three little words stab their way through my mind— Save Our Ship.