Chapter 3

Ana

"Look up for me, gorgeous."

I do what she says, turning my gaze to the ceiling. A sigh escapes me as I find myself itching to check my phone again. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to this."

"Really? I would think that this is just like a freaking Tuesday for you," she giggles.

I turn the corners of my mouth up the best I can, trying not to mess up her work. "No way. I don't normally do things like this." That used to be true, anyway. And it seems the jury is still out on whether I'm doing it tonight… And the urge to check my phone is back.

"Well, there must be other glamorous parts?" she probes, her voice lilting up an octave or so.

I guess no one could blame her for being curious. I sometimes wonder myself how on earth this is where I've ended up. A tightness that's quickly becoming my new normal rolls through my chest, the anxiety rearing its head again. "Um, I don't know. This is new. Before, it was just… I go to work, he goes to work, we had a normal life, and now… we're here."

"What's it like being with an inventor? Is he, like, super creative?"

"He's creative," I allow, relieved that she's finished whatever brushwork was happening under my eyes and tilting my chin back down. I check my phone again, hoping against hope that there will be a text. Nothing. "He's also late."

"Oh, where is he?"

I hadn't realized I'd said that last part out loud. "Oh, uh, work." His new fortress. Where else?

"Is he meeting you here?"

I resist the urge to sigh. Are makeup artists always this chatty? She's nice and I'm glad she's been so approachable, but I'm just not up to small talk. "I think so." I thought so. I watch as my call rings five times just to go to voicemail again.

"Well, I guess timeliness doesn't matter so much when they get you a rock that big." Her eyes lower to my left hand suggestively and I feel my cheeks heat. "Close your eyes." She sprays some fruity-scented mist onto my face. "There! All done. Look at you, Cinderella, you're all ready for the ball."

She turns my chair so I can see myself in the mirror. This version of me looks like she's wearing a very heavy Instagram filter. My hair is falling in gentle waves all around face, and this makeup certainly looks… professional. This is too weird… "Thank you. Looks great."

She smiles hugely and fluffs my hair once more. "I'll go grab your dress!"

I'm still staring at whoever is in the mirror when I feel my phone buzzing in my lap. I wrench it to my ear before I can even check who's calling, almost dropping it. "Cam, jeez, are you—"

"Kate, Ana, not Cam. But I don't like the sound of that. Is he late again?"

I quietly groan and lift my hand to my face but drop it quickly when I remember that I can't touch anything. "I think he must be caught up at work. He just goes down these rabbit holes and disappears. I haven't heard from him yet." We had a similar conversation last week when I was sitting in a similar state of glam and wondering if we were going to make it to her event.

She groans in sympathy. "I thought all those fucking trophy wives were going to crucify me at their ladies' lunches last week. You know I'm the only one I know who has a job outside of party planning and going to pilates? Maybe it was my karma for enjoying the looks on their faces a little too much when I told them he was coming to my benefit, but this dude's tardiness gives me anxiety. I can't imagine what it's like for you."

I sigh heavily. "Oh, I'm just all dolled up with nowhere to go." And I just want a bath. And bed. But if I went to bed now, I would leave a tattoo of my face on the pillowcase.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. I feel you. This is still so not my thing even after all these years. Elliot knows, I'm always bitching about it…" She pauses for a moment on the other end. "Uh, speaking of Elliot, I did want to tell you, he mentioned… he'll be there tonight. I didn't think he would show up. He never does to those things. But like you said, it's all ancient history? It's okay, right?"

I know that she's not referring to Elliot anymore. I stare at the doll version of me in the mirror as she says this. My face doesn't flinch, despite the cocktail of emotions suddenly brewing. "Yes, of course. I knew it would happen at some point." This isn't entirely true. There was a time in my life not so very long ago that I was one thousand percent sure I would never see Christian Grey again. It's just that those odds have recently changed dramatically.

I can't even speak to Taylor as I close the car door behind me. My life, my heart, my future, it's all crumbling before me, and I think I may be going into shock. I've just left him, the only man I've ever loved, and an emotional pain that's so acute it's becoming physical rides through me.

I'm in the stairwell of my apartment building that doesn't feel like mine, that has no one I can talk to, and my hands come up to my chest as I try to hold myself together. It feels like a gaping hole is opening up in my physical body, not just my soul. I wrack my brain with what to do. I can't stay here. This is not home… this is his home. This whole city, it's his world, and now it's become painfully clear that I don't belong anywhere near his world. God, I'm supposed to start a new job on Monday… but I haven't yet.

I can get out.

There's really only one person who might be my way out, given that my usual partner in crime is in Barbados. I dial the contact with shaking hands.

"Ana? Hi, honey. How did things go?" Her pleasant, optimistic tone reminds me of the note we'd left off on before…

I gasp a sob. "Mom, can I please come back?"

The air leaves my lungs like I've just been punched in the chest as the memory surfaces. The day I left Seattle, and until recently, I hadn't been back since.

"I mean, you probably won't even see him! He'll probably just grab his little trophy and go back to his skyscraper. We're technically family and even we never see him, so I doubt he'll give the Seattle general public much time of day."

I nod even though she can't see me. "Okay. It's fine, of course. It's all water under the bridge now." I see out of the corner of my eye that my makeup artist/plastic surgeon has returned. "I have to go, it's time to squeeze myself into a dress that looks like it's more fitting for the Met Gala than a business event."

"That's how it goes around here," she sighs. "You get used to it. Or so they say. I'll let you know when I do. Okay, see you soon! Love you!"

"Love you." I hang up and take in the massive garment. "It looks… heavy."

She laughs. "Oh, it's not so bad! You think Cinderella was worried about that on her big night?"

If I recall the story correctly, Cinderella wanted to go to the ball because she wanted a night off. There was no prince involved until later. Me, I find myself wanting a night off from going to the ball with my absentee prince. Life has just been a whirlwind lately, and now I have to play arm candy. If he gets here.

I get the dress on and then practice walking back and forth through our new, enormous house. You've seen bigger… I sigh exasperatedly and shake my wrists out. The last thing I need right now is to think about what other cavernous buildings in Seattle I've been to. Or the fact that this one is another living space that doesn't feel like home yet.

I've done such a good job putting all of these memories on the shelf these last several years. Honestly, it was easy when it was out of sight, out of mind. It was so long ago; I was only twenty-one, I'd experienced nothing in life beyond what I read in books, and when things started to change when I met… well, it was intense. Too intense, more intensity than is good for someone. You can't live life like that. The way he fried my nervous system, both good and bad, was completely unsustainable.

And yet here I stand, a twenty-eight year old woman with a career, a life, a stable relationship, and a ball gown, wringing my hands over old ghosts.

Maybe I won't even recognize him. Maybe he's gone bald or something. Maybe he won't even recognize me! God, for him, I was just another in a long line. It's ludicrous to imagine he's ever thought about me again since then. We haven't talked since that one phone call, and that was… I swallow uncomfortably. I'd buried that memory deep. I don't think it's safe to go there now, not when I might have to lay eyes on him tonight.

But that was ages ago. So, if he doesn't remember me, I can just go with the flow. I'm just Ana, I'm nobody, I'm arm candy.

I continue to pace for I don't know how long when I finally hear the buzzing of my phone again. I hurl myself towards it, trying not to break my neck in these shoes, and start breathing again when I see who it is. Finally. "Cam? Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry, babe, I lost track of time at the office. Too many cool things going on. Are you all ready?" His voice is warm and calm, which would normally be a balm to my stress, but at this moment is just irritating me further.

"Yes, but don't you have to get your tux and everything on? We're going to be so late."

"I had my tux brought to the office, no worries."

Oh, just perfect. "Well, you might have mentioned that! I thought we were both getting ready here. And by the way, we're late anyway."

He chuckles. "Yeah, yeah, I know, but I figured after last time it was just better to have all my stuff here. I'll just pick you up and we'll be there in a flash, darling. I can't wait to see how beautiful you look."

"I look like a cupcake."

He laughs with abandon, and I feel my mood starting to defrost. "Well, you know I love a good cupcake. And I love you. Be there in two seconds."

"Okay, fine. Make it one second," I say, feigning petulance, and hang up.

I roll my eyes at his forgetfulness as I gather my things and head out through the garage to wait in the driveway. It's allegedly a driveway, anyway. To me, it looks more like an entirely separate private road. And it's supposedly mine.

It's Cam's. It's his world. You're just living in it. That thought sobers me once again. Though my name is on the title, this seaside ultra-modern new build was a Cam impulse purchase. Since he now has the means to make such purchases. An impulse purchase used to be McDonald's on the way home.

I see the lights of one of his other impulse purchases coming down the way now. If I don't look enough like a peacock in this dress, this car will certainly do enough to draw attention. He gets out and jogs around to my side, opening the door for me and helping to gather the dress. "Babe! You look sensational. Just like a princess."

"Thank you. Tell me again, why you had to go with one of the most expensive cars in the world?"

He shrugs and smiles boyishly. "Because I can."

Between the two of us, we manage to load my entire garb into the car, and he shuts the door behind me, leaning in for a kiss as he slides in next to me. "Don't mess up my face paint. She worked so hard. I'm just saying, don't you think a less flashy car would be more practical?" The cameras at Kate's event went wild when we pulled up. I was a complete deer in the headlights with a smile plastered on.

"Ana, come on, aren't you happy for us? We don't need to be practical. The world is our oyster."

Then why do I catch myself longing for the days when our world was just a crappy apartment in Boston? Me trying to make it in publishing, him with his little robot friends, us against the world? I must be being silly. This outcome is what most people would dream about.

And maybe it would be a dream if you didn't feel so alone, but he moved you to this city and you sit in a cavernous house contemplating whether or not it's time to learn how to knit…

Yes, I'm still figuring out how I'm going to start again. In this city, of all places. The one place he wanted to set up shop is the one place where my demons live. But what was I supposed to say? Darling, honestly, I don't think Seattle is for me. It would be uncomfortable for me to run into my ex-Dom, who also happens to be your main industry competition there. Could we pick New York instead?

Part of me worries for Cam. If I recall correctly, he had very adverse reactions to the thought of sharing.

But let's be honest. I barely knew the man, and now I certainly never will. Maybe I'm inventing these demons, anyway. I didn't feel this way until I was back in the belly of the beast. I just need to adjust. Everything has happened so quickly, and I just have whiplash.

I gaze out the window as the city speeds by, and a knot forms in my stomach as we pull up outside the Fairmont Olympic. I fix the smile onto my face as Cam walks around to my side of the car. I'm a bit unsettled by how quickly I'm getting used to playing pretend for flashing cameras.

"Mr. Westerley. I'm here to show you to your seats," a hurried hotel employee greets us. Probably because we're late. Again.

As we breeze into the auditorium, me one step behind Cam, I take a surreptitious look around for any familiar faces. One familiar face in particular… I don't know why. I don't want to see him, but I guess I want to know what I'm in for? Regardless, I don't see him, and the lights quickly dim. It seems they were waiting for us.

I take a deep breath as the emcee starts making his spiel. I don't know why I'm so nervous. This is not about me. No one is here to look at me. And judging by the size of this crowd, the chances I would even run into him must be so slim. So I just fold my hands in my lap and clap along when I need to.

"Our next award is a special one. In fact, one we've come up with just for its recipient. This man's work in business is only rivaled by his global sustainability efforts. Innovation comes with efficiency, and efficiency can be measured by how our planet keeps the score against our actions as humans. Grey Enterprises Holdings is the largest carbon neutral corporation in the world…"

My lungs seize up mid-breath. It's happening. He's here. I feel an urge to bolt from the room, and an equally compelling urge to keep my eyes glued to the stage. Just a glimpse… I twist my engagement ring around my finger, trying to anchor myself.

"…so, here to receive our Sustainable Global Leader award, please welcome to the stage the CEO of Grey Enterprises Holdings, Christian Grey."

And suddenly, I'm quite unanchored, free-floating into the space where old daydreams used to live.

He walks out with a determined but neutral look on his face, every bit the professional. He always had it ruthlessly together, that one… He looks older, but somehow in a more manly way. Fuck me, I didn't know that was possible. Of course it's ancient history, and of course it was wrong for me, but I'm still a human woman, and it's hard to forget looking at him now just how right it felt for a second. He is a sight to behold, and at one time, he made me feel like I was too.

And at the same time, I feel a pang of ageless sadness for the young girl in me who once saw the sun rise and set with him, and how carelessly he took advantage of that. I handed him my heart and soul and I would have taken on any pain on for him, and he used that. His gravity pulled me down from cloud nine so harshly that I had to flee town. Maybe the years have dulled that, but they sure haven't erased it.

Even now, he has a starring role in the story of my life, but as time has slipped away and perspective has gathered, the lines became blurred between hero or villain.

I blink an errant tear away, overwhelmed by the direction my thoughts have taken, and I glance over at Cam, who's fixated on him like he's seeing Brad Pitt for the first time. He's blissfully ignorant to the violent flashbacks I'm having, and God, I hope it stays that way. The last thing I need is for this chapter of my past to have a reprise.

"…There is an Indian proverb that I have carried with me as I've achieved my own personal success, and I think it is a worthy reminder to us all; 'Only when the last tree has died, the last river has been poisoned, and the last fish been caught will we realize we cannot eat money.' Thank you."

He said something so similar at his speech at my graduation. If this is any indication, he's hardly changed… and that thought makes me unexpectedly blue.

The room erupts into applause, and I join just a beat behind. I watch him all the way until he disappears behind the curtains, and then I grip Cam's forearm a bit harder than intended. "I need the bathroom, darling. Be right back."

"Okay, okay," he whispers hurriedly, still appearing to be a Grey-induced trance. I almost want to roll my eyes. First time? I get up and haul it to the nearest exit just as the applause is dying down.

In the ladies' room, I lean against the sink and stare at myself in the mirror, finally allowing the mask to slip as I watch my face reveal all the confusion and disarray of this moment, my lungs heaving with anxiety. I drop my chin to my chest. I don't know if I'm built for this. That's why I left. He has an all-consuming presence that completely stops a room, and now I'm meant to be in these rooms? I feel like I'm regressing to the girl he knew me as just from one glance at him.

I lift my head again, my eyes drawing to how my shoulders are hunching inward, as if I'm trying to disappear. I can't remember ever seeing myself like that, and it stirs something in me. Oh, for fuck's sake, get a grip! You did disappear. And now you're back. It's been seven years. Does he really still get to puppeteer you like this?

I stand up straighter. That subconscious pep talk makes some points. I'm not the same as I was then. I'm older, I'm stronger, I'm just different. He's a significant part of my past, yes, but it's the past. That's all it will ever be. This is my chance to prove to myself that I've moved on, that I'm not a young girl hoping I'll get it right for him anymore.

I'm not. So, no more running.

I fluff my hair in the mirror and put my poker face back on, newly determined to soldier through the rest of these silly awards.

Cam smiles and kisses my cheek when I sit back down. I immediately feel a bit guilty for the direction my thoughts took before. This is the present… Christian Grey made it very clear that he doesn't do hearts and flowers. How could it have ever lasted? Here, I've got hearts, flowers, and recently, diamonds.

Life is strange. It's been six months, and I still haven't gotten used to thinking of myself as a fiancée.

Time passes as I continue to try to ground myself, and before I know it, they're pulling Cam backstage. Looks like he's the big finale. Probably because we're always late, I think with amusement.

"And last but certainly not least, we would like to welcome to the stage a newer face in this realm, and we hear in this city as well! Westerley Technology has made waves in the artificial intelligence community, and its founder officially has our attention. Please welcome to the stage the recipient of our Best New Entrepreneur award, Cameron Westerley."

I smile widely and clap as loudly as I can as he practically skips onto stage. He really lives for the limelight. "This is a fantastic honor from American Innovation. Thank you to our incredible team of both robots and humans at Westerley Tech, to Seattle for such a warm welcome to the city, and of course, to my beautiful fiancée, Anastasia Steele. Let's get a camera on her, come on."

Oh, Jesus Christ, let's not.

But suddenly there's a bright light in my face. As practiced, I smile and give a little wave. Cam! What the fuck! He loves the limelight, sure, but I'm supposed to just be arm candy! I continue to smile, but I'm screaming on the inside. He knows the cameras are not my thing.

"You've been my rock, angel, I couldn't do it without you." Awww, that's so sweet. You're still a traitor. "Thank you all for coming!"

I sigh heavily and practically bolt out of my chair as the emcee begins closing remarks, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. I decide to wait near the stage door and just meet him out here. I watch and try to slow my heartbeat as everyone files out, eagerly heading towards the dining room. Luckily, no one pays me much mind. This crowd is pretty focused on themselves. While I'm waiting, I start fishing through my clutch for some lip balm, thinking I must need some kind of a touch-up by now, but the bag slips out of my hand. I sigh and kneel down to pick it up, just grateful that nothing spilled.

But a hand beats me to it. I snap my neck up.

Hello, stormy skies.

I've seen that shade of gray before.

That hasn't changed. A distant look didn't really do his beauty justice, either. It's surreal seeing his chiseled face so close to mine again. His scent hasn't changed. I feel my mouth go slack, trying to get some fresh air to clear my head in this delicious Grey fog…

"Miss Steele," he says softly. A shiver runs through me, and I couldn't tell you if it was danger or desire.

"Mr. Grey." I'm surprised at how steady my voice is.

We stand up in unison, keeping our eyes on each other. He's looking at me strangely, in a way I'm not sure I can ever recall seeing. It's like he's waiting for me to disappear, and I think I catch something like… guilt? Shame? Regret? It's hard to say. I never saw anything of the kind from him before.

I'm also not unaware of how fucking gorgeous he is. The way I remember exactly how my fingers feel in his hair, how his hands felt on me. The effect he has on me is undeniable. And the way that that's still so distracting is infuriating.

The familiar presence directly next to me a moment later is a bucket of cold water on that side of things. "Mr. Grey! Man, we finally meet." Cam holds his hand out, and Christian looks down at it like it's covered in mud. "It's an honor, sir."

His expression slowly shifts. All traces of the softness from before are gone. I imagine this is steely boardroom Christian. "Westerley." They shake, and I idly wonder if Cam's hand will be sore after.

"I see you've met my fiancée," Cam says brightly. Bless his soul, he is in a fantasy land right now, seemingly completely unaware of the energy coming off of Christian. "Hey, she actually used to live here! I don't suppose your paths ever crossed?" he chuckles.

I want to scream and run. Of all the things my dear fiancé could have said as an icebreaker, this won out? A quick glance at Christian reveals that he's enjoying that question way too much. Oh, fuck off. "Actually, Mr. Grey spoke at my graduation." I watch his eyebrows raise a fraction at that. That's right, Grey. Nothing too memorable.

"Wow, small world! I can't believe you've never mentioned that." Well, Grey-related topics have never really been at the top of my let's-talk-about-that list.

"That wasn't the first time we'd met, of course," Christian says silkily.

I feel my temperature rise at the implications he's making. Brazenly, right in front of Cam. I get the feeling that he still thinks he can play me like a violin, and that makes me see fire. What happened to Mr. NDA? How fucking dare he?

"No… of course." I reach over and loop my arm through Cam's, giving it a little rub. "Remember, I've told you before that there was one time I had to fill in for Kate in an interview for the school paper? Mr. Grey was the interview."

I turn and look directly into his sobered face. Try me. I play it cool with the best of them. And in this moment, I actually believe that thought.

"No shit! Damn, this really is a small world. Seattle is really starting to feel like small town vibes!" Oh, my love, if only you knew.

"I do hope you're enjoying your time here," Christian says flatly. Looks like I've got his goat.

"We love it here!" Cam chirps. I suppress a sigh. I can't say that's exactly how I've felt, but the things you do for love… "I've been trying to get in a room with you since we moved. You're pretty hard to track down. Maybe we can sit together at dinner? If you look at the things we both specialize in, I think you and I have so much to talk about. I'd love to set up a—"

I note Christian's gaze directed on Cam's hand that's touching my back. The looks in his eyes is strange, almost haunted. It cools the fire in me and replaces it with confusion. "I apologize, but I have to be going."

"Are you sure? I—"

Cam starts to speak, but if there's one thing I know, it's that pushing Christian Grey is a terrible idea. That coupled with how fucking awkward this has been, I know I have to end this. And truly, I would rather launch myself into the sun than have dinner with my fiancé and ex-Dom talking shop. "Have a good evening, Mr. Grey." I look at Cam, who thankfully stays silent when he sees the alarm bells in my eyes I'm desperately trying to send him.

I look back to Christian, and his expression has changed again. If I didn't know better, I would call it wistful. "Miss Steele." His gaze hardens again as he turns. "Westerley. Perhaps we'll meet again." He doesn't allow either of us to answer before he's striding away.

I watch him go until Cam speaks, my head swirling from that interaction. Whatever I thought seeing him again might be like, it was… none of that. "I can't believe you know Christian Grey. What else have you been hiding from me?" he says playfully, leaning down to kiss me.

I meet his lips distractedly. "Know is a strong word." I'm not sure what I ever really knew about him. But I feel my stomach flip as I think about the conversation I know I'll have to have sooner or later.

I look back down the hallway he's just vacated. Old ghosts, indeed. Maybe all it will take is an exorcism.

I stare at the ceiling while Cam peacefully slumbers. You'd think that he would be the one whose life was suddenly all sorts of complicated, but it seems like he's found the life that's meant for him. And while I love that for him, I don't know what that means for me.

A set of facial expressions dances across the darkness. Christian looking contrite, sad, regretful… things I'd never seen before tonight.

At least not in person…

Perhaps this is what he looked like during our one phone call after the end. I throw my arm over my eyes, trying to make the faces go away. I'd taken great care to keep that memory behind closed doors. There could be no what-ifs. I couldn't take it. But all my avoidance doesn't seem to matter anymore. Hearing his voice again, I remember it like it was yesterday.

I roll over onto my side, pulling my knees up to my chest. My eyes take in the other buildings outside, some with lights on, and I try to picture what's going on in their little lives. Another new city and another new apartment, but this one feels like it actually stands a chance at feeling like someplace I can stay.

I think about the conversation I had at work earlier and I wonder if this is a direction I have the courage to take. I feel my phone buzzing on the bed next to me, and I wonder if this is something I could run by my mom…

I answer it without checking. "Hey, Mom."

"Ana," he breathes. Mine stops as my fingers tighten around the phone. After a long pause, he continues. "You haven't had a traceable number."

"No." Because I was afraid this would happen.

He lets out an exasperated sigh. "For God's sakes, Ana, what if something had happened? You can't just have—"

"You can't do this anymore."

"Do what?" He sounds so confused.

"Call me. Ever again. I couldn't be what you want. I still can't. We have nothing to talk about."

His intake of breath is sharp. I almost wonder if he's in pain, like he cut his finger on something. "You are everything I want. That's why I'm calling. We did it all wrong, Ana. I did it all wrong. I want more. This has been fucking torture, Ana, please. Just come home."

My heart splinters into a thousand little pieces. His voice sounds hoarse, and a part of me longs to believe him. This declaration from him would have brought me to my knees not so long ago. But if there's one thing I know I wouldn't survive, it's this ending all over again. No amount of time would mend that.

He'll find a new toy…

"I can't."

It may be a gasp or a sob on the other end, I can't tell. I clap my hand over my mouth as the tears pool. "Ana," he rasps.

"I can't, Christian. Please, no more. Don't look for me anymore. If you ever had any warm feelings for me, please, just let me go."

"Ana, please, I l—"

"Thank you for everything that you gave while you could. Most of it was a dream. But that's all it was. This just isn't reality. Please stay safe. Take care of yourself. And please understand that this is my way of caring for myself. Please help me do that."

"Ana, I can't lose you. Do you hear me? I can't, I—"

"Goodbye, Christian." My voice is trembling as much as my hands as I hang up. He immediately calls back, and I power the phone off and throw it under the bed. I don't move for the rest of the night, sobbing into my pillow until dawn.

He didn't call back in the morning, and I was grateful. In the present, I assume a similar position to the one from that night, but this time I'm all cried out. You have to make choices in life, and I still believe I did what I had to. But sometimes even the right decision haunts you.

A/N: Manifesting that this posts with no errors!