Chapter 7

Christian

Gail lightly raps on my office door, then sticks her head in. "Mr. Grey. I'm sorry to interrupt, but your mother is here."

"Thank you, Gail." Ah, yes, Grace popping in to see that her elusive younger son is still breathing. I'm sure she has better things she could be doing on a Saturday morning, but she is ever a present parent.

I walk into the living area to find her busying herself making coffee. "Dr. Trevelyan-Grey, I can do that," Gail protests.

"Gail, it's the weekend! Heaven forbid I have to make my own latte. I'm perfectly capable, I promise."

"It's no use, Gail," I add. "Please, go do something enjoyable with your time."

She sighs. "Thank you, Mr. Grey. Let me know if I'm needed." I nod to dismiss her, and she goes.

I walk around the island. "Good morning, Mother." I lean in and kiss her cheek.

"Good morning, darling." She pats my cheek affectionately. "I hope you don't mind me popping in. I find the coffee tastes better in your company." She gives her drink a stir and strolls over to the sofa, patting the spot next to her. I oblige. "So, what's new with you?"

"Nothing exciting." Nothing ever is.

"I heard you won an award recently! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Truth be told, Mother, someone had to tell me. I only went because my PR team wanted me to be seen there." To distract from other, newer, more punchable faces.

"Did you meet this new fellow everyone's been talking about?" she asks curiously.

For fuck's sake. My own mother. "In passing."

"Have you spoken to Mia lately?"

"Not recently. Why?"

"It's the strangest thing. She became friendly with Cameron Westerley's fiancée at some event or another, and we're having them both over for Sunday dinner tomorrow. I don't know much about what he works on or how it could be useful, so I think it should make for some very interesting discussion."

My ears began ringing after the second sentence. "Westerley is going to your house?"

"Yes. I know you're very busy, but would you be interested in joining us?"

"I'll be there."

"Oh, wonderful!" she gushes. "Do you have any requests for the menu?"

"Did you say Mia met his… fiancée?" That word leaves a bad taste in my mouth, knowing who it's in reference to.

"Yes, I suppose. She didn't say too much beyond that."

"What exactly did she say?"

It's been a good long while since I've been to the family home. Maybe Christmas dinner? And we're in July now. I feel a pang of guilt at this, because my mother asks me to family gatherings fairly often. I have a morbid thought that maybe it's my karma that the thing that gets me back here is a scenario that my nightmares might produce.

I walk in and feel a slight gratefulness that my eyes immediately zero in on my target. "Mia? A word?"

She's leaning against the kitchen counter and whirls around when she hears my voice. "Christian? What the hell are you doing here?"

I don't answer her. I simply gesture towards the terrace with my head and go off in that direction, waiting for her to follow me. She does.

She holds her hands up like she's surrendering. "You cannot be mad at me. I really didn't think you'd care."

"So, you know who she is."

"Of course I know who she is! We met again at Kate's brunch, and we even talked about you a little bit. She specifically said there's no bad blood. You guys knew each other for five minutes seven years ago, why is this an issue?"

"I'm your brother. You don't think a courtesy call would have been warranted?"

"I did call you!" she all but yells. "I call you regularly, you just don't answer the phone. I wanted to and was planning to tell you this was happening, and I also thought there was a zero percent chance you would want to come because you never want to have dinner with us." She sighs. "Did I really fuck up? She wasn't lying, was she? Are you guys not on good terms?"

I run a hand through my hair. "We're on fine terms. Anastasia is not the issue."

"So, what, the guy? I haven't even met him. Is he an asshole? Respectfully, you can't really be mad at someone for that."

I don't know if I have the words to explain what the issue is. "Are you going to invite all my competitors into the family home? Would we be giving Steve Jobs tea if he were alive?"

"Christian? I see your car outside!" I hear Grace call.

Mia sighs. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't think of it that way. I just wanted to help out a new friend, mainly. You can tell Ana is bored as shit with all of this."

All of what? Seattle? Society? Him? Before I can verbalize this thought, she's heading back inside. "He's here, Mom, we're coming!"

I begrudgingly follow her, feeling another wave of guilt when Grace's face lights up upon seeing me. "Darling, I'm so glad you could make it!"

"Yes, so am I." Glad I could make it, maddened that I had to in the first place.

"They'll be here any minute. How exciting!"

"I don't suppose you were talking about us?" Elliot calls. I can hear Kate talking patiently to my niece as they both arrive. She eyes me as they round the corner, first with confusion, and then with a look that seems to say 'I know what you're up to.' Fuck off.

I distance myself from the squealing of Grandma Grace and little Ava with a detour to the bar cart, thankful that the child will be dining with her nanny. Some motion catches my eye outside the window, and I nearly spill my drink as I see that it's Ana and Westerley outside. The lack of reaction from the rest of the family tells me that they haven't made themselves known yet. They appear to be in close discussion. He's leaning down and talking to her intently. She looks somewhat exasperated, and I see what appears to be an emphatic response from her. Just as I'm considering taking a course in lip reading, he pulls her into an embrace and a kiss. My stomach turns and I look away, taking my drink back in one swig.

Happy couples usually make me feel disinterested, at the most. This one makes me feel like throwing a chair. Or throwing up.

I can hear the commotion in the foyer, and I follow it, beginning to wonder if this was a good idea after all. "Welcome, both of you. We are so delighted to have you!" Grace is saying.

"The pleasure is all ours, Mr. and Mrs. Grey." It's Doctor, you fucking prick.

"Please, come in! You know my daughter Mia, and this is my son Elliot and his—"

"Actually, ma'am, we know Elliot and Kate. Small world as this is, Anastasia and Kate are best friends."

"Oh, goodness, I never put that together. I thought you looked terribly familiar. Anastasia, you're…" She abruptly stops, and I take it upon myself to finally show my face.

I see the budding recognition on Grace's face. "You've met before, Mother," I supply. Everyone turns to look at me, some with great shock, some with amusement, Ana herself looking uncharacteristically flustered. Well, this is sure to be a night to remember.

She collects herself quickly and smiles. "Yes… I know Kate and Elliot well, and I know Christian from way back. Funnily enough, this isn't my first dinner here." Her tone is genial enough, but her smile hasn't reached her eyes. I remember the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled, maybe a little too well. Instead, she seems guarded with a pleasant persona.

Grace looks back and forth between me and Ana almost cartoonishly. "My goodness… I haven't met many Anastasias, but the world suddenly seems smaller than I've ever imagined. Well, it's quite a pleasure to see you again." She shakes her hand, beaming.

"Please call me Ana. I keep telling Cam, no one ever calls me Anastasia, yet he always introduces me like a Russian princess."

"Ana, Cameron, please, let's go through," Carrick says, extending an arm towards the dining room. What a shame to break up this little exchange. I was so enjoying watching Ana's face. It's like watching a tennis match.

"Pretty funny to think you might be sitting here anyway if things had gone differently with you and Christian, Ana," Elliot says as we're all sitting. His tone is casual, but the delinquent grin on his face gives away the pretense of sincerity. Older brothers never change.

I note that Westerley has no reaction to this. She's told him?

Kate smacks him on the arm with a profound thwap. "Hardly. Things didn't work out for a reason, and that's fine! Look at you now. Christian, still a bajillionaire, and Ana, a business owner and engaged!"

I feel that Kate's tone is a little too saccharine, but that thought is pushed aside by a piece of information she delivers. "Business owner?" I look directly at her.

She turns her head to me, seemingly surprised I've addressed her. "Formerly. When we lived in Boston, I founded a publishing company."

"Oh, how wonderful! What sorts of books?" Grace asks.

"Where did you get the investment?" I interject. I'm shocked. She never said a thing about wanting to open a business. She and I never talked about it, and why wouldn't she have mentioned it to me of all people?

Ana blinks once and stares at me unreadably. "I took out a small business loan."

"You took on debt?" When you could have asked me?

"It's paid off," she says more sharply.

"She made a killing when she sold that baby," Westerley says, giving her a sidelong grin. Who fucking asked you?

"Will you be opening another one here?" I continue.

"I'm exploring my options," she says curtly.

"I'm sure you have so many, dear," Grace says politely. I turn to look at her and realize that most of the table is staring at me like I'm insane, minus Westerley, who is looking like an idiot, and Ana, who is looking at me in a challenging way.

Something in me stirs. Absolutely maddening. She always was. I loved that about her.

"Right now, she's just making our house into a home. Maybe we'll start working on filling it up, who knows?" Westerley comments, and I get another wave of nausea. Ana looks similarly disconcerted for the briefest of moments, but it's over almost before it began.

The appetizers are brought out and the conversation shifts as my father engages Westerley with questions about his bullshit line of work. Mia leans over to me. "Subtle," she whispers with amusement.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say flatly.

"Uh huh. Sure you don't." She takes a bite of some pastry hors d'oeuvres and chews a moment, then leans back in. "Just tell me, did you come here so you could slip poison in his soup?"

"Mia, for fuck's sake."

"Okay, okay," she chuckles.

I keep a running commentary of snide remarks in my head as Westerley speaks, but I mostly watch Ana. She stares at her plate, fiddles with her hands in her lap, glances around every so often, but nothing about her body language is conveying that she's feeling comfortable. Maybe it's this situation we've found ourselves in, sitting together at dinner again, but maybe it's the way she subtly leans away from him or the moment between them I caught before this persona of hers began.

"And how is wedding planning going for you two?" Kate asks.

I flinch. Ana also flinches. Maybe it's not visible to everyone, but it is to me. "I think we've—" she begins.

"We're looking at a ceremony in Lake Como," the shithead interrupts.

This time her eyes obviously widen, and she turns to look at him. "We what?" she laughs, with an undercurrent of discomfort.

"I was talking to my mom about it. She sent me some venues there, and it looks incredible. It was a surprise for you, babe."

"Damn, how romantic!" Kate gushes.

"Lake Como is beautiful," Mia agrees.

"It's… a little far," Ana says. "But yes, beautiful, I'm sure. We'll see what works, I suppose."

"Tell me, how did you propose?" Grace asks. I do not fucking want to hear this.

Ana shifts a bit in her seat, giving Westerley a sideways glance. "We were on our first vacation in forever, since we had a decent amount of money, in Portofino. I was too nervous to do it at dinner, so I ended up doing it on our hotel balcony," he says, smiling at her. It's the first of his I've seen that's felt somewhat sincere and not sycophantic. She smiles back, a small one. I find myself wanting to bolt from the room and book a session with Claude.

"I was shaking like a leaf when I proposed to Grace," Carrick chuckles.

"Elliot just kind of blurted it out after a night of wining and dining," Kate giggles.

"Mia, if you don't mind, I'd love to hear more about how you came to open a restaurant," Ana redirects. This surprises me. Aren't most blushing brides eager to talk wedding plans? She's barely spoken about it.

Am I seeing what I want to see, or…?

"Well, ages ago when we met, I'd just come back from culinary school in Paris…" And the conversation changes tack. I even think I catch Ana's shoulders relax a bit.

As tumultuous as this evening is for me internally, watching her around him is fascinating in the most confusing way.

The conversation shifts again when Grace asks Westerley about the implications of AI technology in medicine, and he drones on and on to the point that I'd like chloroform for dessert. I tune out until I hear my name.

He's looking directly at me. "Perhaps Mr. Grey may be able to see some of the benefits of what we're working on? Not to be so forward at a social visit like this, but my team and I would love to set up a presentation for you. We may make good allies."

Jesus Christ, a sales pitch at dinner. "We just started a contract with another expert in that realm. Perhaps we can revisit the idea next quarter." The fifth quarter, maybe. Fucker.

"Well, shall we adjourn for coffee and dessert?" Grace says, very hostess-like, and stands up, finally freeing me from this hellish table.

I make my way to the terrace to take a moment away from everyone else. Truthfully, this has been torture. I have always known my feelings for Ana were unlike any I'd felt before, and though it's in a different way now, that phenomenon continues. She is obviously different, more mature, more outspoken, fiercer to behold, but so much is the same too.

"Christian?"

I almost think I've imagined her voice, but I turn and there she is. It also dawns on me that this is the first time she's used my name since we've met again. And just like before, it's strange and wonderful. "Ana."

She looks at me, a torn expression on her face, biting the corner of her lip. "I'm sorry. I had no idea you would be here. I wouldn't have agreed. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

She's apologizing for coming? "You have nothing to apologize for. If I didn't want to come, I wouldn't have." But I wanted to see you. Or I wanted to torture myself. Or both.

She nods, her teeth freeing her lip. Thank fuck. "I don't want you to think I'm trying to… weasel my way into your life. It's just, I do like Mia."

"I think you and Mia would get along famously."

"Yes, I—" Her words cut off as she sees something in the distance. I turn to see what's caught her attention. I don't see anything except—

Ah.

The boathouse.

I wonder if she's remembering our little tryst in there last time. How I carried her over my shoulder and spanked her. How angry I was… how silly that seems now.

"Don't you dare," she says, trying to be firm, but a smile playing at her lips as she sees my own.

"I don't know what you're referring to. Would you like a tour of the boathouse?"

"Christian," she scolds, a slight blush pooling in her cheeks. "This is not appropriate. I just… forgot that happened. It seems another lifetime."

I can't argue with her there. But at the same time, it feels like yesterday. "I take it he knows."

She walks a few steps closer, joining me at the edge looking over the water. "I told him."

"And?"

"He doesn't care." She doesn't say more, but I get the feeling there's more she doesn't want to say. "This view is as lovely as ever."

I can't resist. "I won't impede you enjoying it this time."

"Christian!" she hisses under her breath. "We cannot be around each other if this is how you're going to behave."

I hold my hands up in peace. "I'm sorry." I pause, considering my next words. "I do want us to be able to do that. You… you loved me once. Shouldn't we be able to coexist now?"

Her face turns a shade whiter as I say this, then she casts her eyes downward, avoiding my gaze. "I didn't know what love was. I was so young. Obviously, it was a mistake to say that."

I feel freshly wounded at her words, like she told me this seven years ago, but this pain reminds me of something that's been coming to mind more and more. "What happened to you?"

She looks up, looking confused and guarded. "What do you mean?"

"When you left. Where did you go?"

She relaxes a bit. "I went to Savannah to stay with my mother."

"With no phone?"

She sighs at the implication. Of course I tried tracking you. Stalker, remember? "I didn't have one for months."

"And how is your mother?" I ask for good measure.

This gets a small smile out of her. "She's happily re-divorced, having her eat pray love moment somewhere in Europe right now."

Some things never change. "How did you end up in Boston then?" I'll keep my questions coming for as long as she's tolerating them if I have a chance at solving this mystery for myself.

"I just went there to regroup, and then I started applying to all sorts of positions around the country. It didn't matter so much to me where I settled as long as it wasn't…" She trails off here, but we both know where that sentence is going. "Anyway, Boston ended up being a match."

"And you became a woman of business." Curveball.

She scoffs. "I became a woman who just wanted to make her own rules. Who knows, maybe you had something to do with that." She arches an eyebrow at me. She can play with fire too.

"I wondered where you were," I say honestly. "I worried. I tried to talk to you within a couple of days. I couldn't…" I don't know how to finish that sentence. I couldn't bear not talking to her, not being around her. I missed her like I'd miss oxygen underwater. She'd become essential to me. But she doesn't want to hear that.

Her eyes soften as she takes in my expression, tilting her face up to fully see mine. "I'm sorry if my leaving caused you any pain. I never imagined you would want to talk again after that. And then when we did, it just…" She swallows, turning her gaze down around my chest. "I obviously wasn't ready to talk, or to listen. And I appreciate that you gave me that space. But there's no need to tiptoe around all of that now. We're both adults in a very different place in our lives. We can coexist in this capacity, seeing each other at social and business events, can't we?"

The memory of that phone call is like a razor blade to my psyche. I take a moment to control the flood of emotion within me before responding. "I would hope so. I'd like that."

She holds her hand out to shake on it. I smirk, and we do. The feel of her warm, soft skin against mine makes me part my lips, and like an electric current passing through us, she does the same. She yanks her hand back like we did get shocked. "I'm glad. Now we should get back in."

Before I can answer, she all but darts back inside, away from the view, away from the sunset, the ambiance, and me. I flex my fingers and follow in her wake.

She's rejoined the group when I make it back in. I watch her next to Westerley as I pour myself another drink. I can't help but notice the distance between them, and realize that in our private moment, she had been standing closer to me.

A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting! I moved this weekend so my life has been a whirlwind of packing and unpacking. I'm finally settled in the post-grad school dream apartment! I suppose I might start saving for a house now, but I'm not ready to leave the city quite yet lol.

To answer a common question that came up last time, I wouldn't say Ana is using Mia. She's just decided she wants to be her friend and she doesn't care, and she sort of used Cam saying he wanted in with the Grey family as an excuse to do what she already wanted.