Chapter 10

Ana

I jog down the street, feeling too eager for walking. I burst through the door of the shop, then skid to a stop when I see a few patrons look up in alarm.

"Sorry," I say softly, my cheeks flushing. They chuckle to themselves.

I look around for Iris and spot her curly hair in the back, stocking shelves. I settle for a speed walk this time and tap her on the shoulder. "Ana! How nice to—"

"Guess who owns the building next door," I interrupt.

Her jaw drops and her eyes light up, the sides crinkling as she smiles hugely. "They accepted your offer?"

"They did! This is happening!" It's all I can do to keep from jumping up and down.

"Oh, Ana, I can hardly believe it!"

"Now I just have to apply for building permits, and we can get this show on the road. You might want to hang some signs up in your shop mentioning that this place will be getting a facelift. If you have a newsletter or any social media, put it out there too."

She smiles. "My daughter made us an Instagram and a Facebook page, so she can do that. The emails, I can handle, even at my age."

"Oh, please, Iris, you're only a year older than me. Twenty-nine, right?"

"Ana, really," she scolds, but she's laughing.

"I'm going to start interviewing chefs soon. I thought I might have my friend Mia consult on that, too, if that's okay with you."

"I wouldn't know what questions to ask. Do you think your friend would?"

"Well, she is a chef, and a rather successful one, so probably better than either of us."

"Oh? Is she local?"

"Yes, she's the owner and executive chef at Chez Mia."

Her eyes widen. "Mia Grey?" I just nod, surprised by her reaction. Iris seems like she lives under a little bit of a rock, but I guess she reads newspapers. "My goodness, you really are well-connected in this town."

I shrug. "Same circles, I guess," I reply, hoping this subject moves on.

And yet it gets worse. "Have you ever met Christian Grey? I know I'm far too old to say this, but he's rather a dish, isn't he?"

I can feel myself go pale, when mercifully, the customers I nearly accosted come up to us. "Ma'am? Could we check out?"

"Oh, certainly!" Iris leaps into action towards the register. I sink down into one of the armchairs.

This passion project has been a tremendous distraction from the dumpster fire that has been my life and emotions lately. The last name I expected to hear in here today was his, and the last thing I want to think about is how he arrived at my house the other day, then gallantly apologized, a thing I had truly never imagined him capable of, then abruptly left. Not to mention how he apparently took time off for this in the middle of his work day, which my own fiancé can never seem to do for me for any reason, even if we're in the middle of a conversation. And I especially don't want to think about how I felt as I watched him go until the car was out of sight. Or how I had to pretend that my feet were nailed to the floor to not reach for him at the door as we said goodbye.

Reaching for him. Now that would have been a truly silly thing to do. Reach, and do what? Hug? Jump and wrap my legs around his waist? Curl my fingers through his hair? Pull his lips up to—

No! No. This is ridiculous. Fantasies like that are unrealistic, unhelpful, and unhealthy to both myself and my relationship. I twist my ring around my finger a few times. Yes, we are in a rough patch, but Christian Grey of all people is not here to save me. On the other hand, sometimes it feels like he's here to throw me completely off course. When I should be focusing on repairing my newly ruptured relationship before we get married, I'm thinking of things I absolutely should not be.

Lust is a liar. I need to remember that.

"Ana? Are you okay? Goodness, you look like you've seen a ghost." Iris pats me on the shoulder. "Was it something I said?"

"No, I'm fine," I say quickly.

"You don't have anything you want to share with the class?" She puts her hands on her hips and looks down at me with an almost maternal sternness.

Oh, man, she's got me. I look around and see that the shop has vacated now. "I do know him a little, and yes, he is rather a dish."

"How much, pray tell, is a little?"

"I really can't talk about this," I sigh.

"Oh dear. It's like that, huh? Best friend's brother syndrome?"

If only it were that simple. "Actually, I met Mia through him… at a family dinner."

Understanding colors her expression. "Ah. I see. And… does Cameron know about this?"

I wave my hand dismissively. "Yes. It was ages ago. Honestly, a misguided crush that went a little too far."

"If you say so, love." Her tone says she's letting this go, but her expression says this isn't the last of it.

"I have to get going. So much to do before we get started." Not really a ton of it that's pressing, but I want out of this conversation. "I'll keep you updated on permits!"

"Okay, thanks for stopping by." We hug and I leave, grateful for the anonymity the city streets provide me. No one is going to ask me about any significant billionaires here.

I feel my pocket vibrating, and I see Mia is calling. Maybe I spoke too soon… I swallow. "Hey, Mia."

"Hey! Huge favor to ask you."

"What's up?"

"My parents are wanting to hold a small charity event at my restaurant next week. It's kind of last minute, their previous venue flooded, and I'm scrambling to get some important names."

I laugh. "I can't possibly have made that cut."

"You are important, silly! But I was sort of hoping to get you and Cameron? I know they liked you guys."

Ah, date night with the Greys. Again. "I can ask."

"That would be amazing! But if he's too workaholic for it, please, you come anyway!"

"I'll do my best, Mia, I promise."

"You're an angel. Hey, if you're in the city right now, coffee?"

I stop walking and take in my surroundings. As it happens, I'm not far. "Sure. I'll meet you there?"

"Perfect!"

We hang up and I go to my contacts, my finger hovering over his name for a moment. But ultimately, I decide I can't take the disappointment right this second. Coffee it is…

I fluff my hair in the mirror, and this time I don't look at my phone. No professional help this time, either. No, I watched a good old YouTube makeup tutorial and took matters into my own hands. I don't personally see why anyone would need a makeup artist just to go to a simple dinner.

I'm not even nervous this time. It's becoming strangely routine, and at least I know Mia. I give myself one more coat of mascara and go downstairs, wondering idly what the parking situation will be like. This is one of those times having a driver might honestly be nice…

I get into my far less flashy car than Cam's and begin the journey. I'm distracting myself with one of my playlists when the music shuts off and my Bluetooth informs me that Cam is calling. I sigh and press the green phone button on the steering wheel. "Hello."

"Hey, babe. Are you about ready? I'm just finishing up here."

"I'm already on my way."

He's quiet a moment. "What? Why didn't you wait for me?"

"Why are you never on time? I don't want to be late for everything, you know that's not me. So you can either meet me there or you can just stay at the office, whatever you want."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, figure it out." In a moment of rashness, I hang up. I am so tired of being on the back burner. Not even the back burner, I'm on an entirely different stove that he keeps forgetting he owns.

I sigh and try to slow my heartbeat for the rest of the drive. I'm on edge because I'm not used to speaking to Cam like that, but I'm also not used to this version of him at all. I'm not even sure if I want him to show up or not at this point, and that's a sobering thought.

I manage to park around the block and get into the restaurant just after the rain starts. "Good evening. Name?" an attendant asks at the door.

"Anastasia Steele."

He scans the list. "Ah. Here you are, Miss Steele. Have an enjoyable night."

"Thank you."

I barely have a change to look around before I hear a squealing. "You made it!"

Mia is launching herself into my arms. I laugh in surprise. "Hey!"

She pulls back, her smile bright, her cheeks pink, and her breath reminiscent of vodka sodas. Oh, Mia… "Where's your beau?"

I wilt a bit. I had almost forgotten for half a second. "I'm not sure if he'll be here. He was still at the office."

"Seriously? What a lame ass. Even Christian tore himself away from work to come here." My stomach does a flip. I haven't seen him since our kitchen encounter. "Come with me!" She grabs my hand and starts towing me through the crowd.

She leads me over to her parents, who are laughing together over champagne like they're in a commercial for a Hallmark movie. They make such a lovely image together, it takes me a moment to see their stoic son standing just off to the side of them.

Grace smiles when she sees me. "Oh, Ana! How lovely to see you again."

I see out of the corner of my eye that Christian is focusing intently on his phone. "Hello. You as well."

"And where is Cameron?" I swear I catch Christian glance this way now.

"I'm not sure he'll be making it."

"Oh, what a shame. Well, we're so glad you were able to! It's really for such a good cause…" I listen to Grace speak about the charity they're supporting tonight, but I have trouble tuning in. For some stupid reason, my attention is mostly directed to the fact that Christian has now slipped away.

I guess I can't really blame him for avoiding me. We have a strange history and maybe he's realizing that I'm an unwelcome intruder back into his life. The thought depresses me further.

Both Grace and Mia attempt to make conversation with me for a bit, and soon I excuse myself to find a drink. As I lean on the bar waiting for my gin and tonic, I start to think to myself that maybe my social battery wasn't up for this, especially not fresh off of a fight with Cam.

"I didn't expect you here alone."

I jump. Jesus, does this man ever announce his presence? "Neither did I." My drink arrives and I take a hefty sip.

Christian eyes the bartender and simply points at his glass. "Are you all right?" he murmurs softly.

I feel an unfamiliar warmth curl through me at the tone of his voice. He sounds so genuine. I haven't heard that in what feels like a long time. "Why do you ask?"

"Just a question."

"I'm just tired." Of my life.

He appraises me for a moment, like he's trying to decipher what he sees, then mercifully moves on. "I heard through the grapevine that you bought a building."

I manage a smile. "Is Mia a grapevine?"

He smirks. "I'm merely trying to inquire as to how that endeavor is going."

"It's not going much of anywhere at the moment. I'm waiting for permits." Damn city government.

"I could put a word in."

"With who?"

"The city."

Of course you could. "Do what you want, big shot."

"Well, we can't always do what we want," he says, slightly cryptically.

"I'm surprised you want to be here," I observe honestly.

"I like my sister."

"Hard not to. But she's mentioned that you're rather aloof."

He sips his drink coolly. "Always good to support a cause." I start giggling and he looks at me quizzically, a smile spreading across his face. "Why on earth is that funny, Anastasia?"

"I just realized that I honestly have no idea what cause we're supporting. For all I know, this gathering could be for homeless cats."

He tries to stifle his own laughter. "Homeless cats? Is that a pressing issue of today?"

"Sure. Cats should have beds, right?" Honestly, maybe I should get a cat. Might make the house feel less empty. I suddenly feel uncomfortable and I'm not sure why, but a quick look around shows me what my gut was telling me. "Um, why is everyone staring at us?" I say more softly.

Most of the crowd is surreptitiously glancing at us, and some are just outright staring in disbelief. I see Grace looking shocked and Mia smiling hugely, and I feel my cheeks color. Christian barely turns his head. "Who cares what these people think about?" he says dismissively.

Mia loudly taps her glass. "Alright, everyone, let's be seated for dinner!"

Oh, great. A dinner where I get to sit next to an empty chair. As we adjourn to our tables, I look at Cameron's place card next to me and officially decide that I'll leaving as soon as this meal is over. But suddenly, a hand swoops up the card and none other than Christian is taking his seat. "What are you doing?"

"You said to do what I want." He says this like it's obvious.

Despite this situation, I find myself laughing. "Isn't this rather unorthodox?"

"Do you want me to go sit with my parents like I was meant to?"

Honestly, I know the answer is a resounding no. What I don't know is whether I just appreciate the company, or if it's more than that. And that makes me feel like I should say no. But the appetizers are served just then, and I feel it's best to just roll with it. "I'm going to have a security system installed."

He smiles. "Is it too much to hope that I had something to do with that?"

"You, and others, made some good points," I admit. "Though you might consider in the future how you phrase them."

"You don't like my turn of phrase?"

"You're asking too many questions."

He arches a brow. "And you have a smart mouth."

My mouth pops open a bit in surprise. What a throwback… he must know what he's doing. "I think you just think any woman who doesn't kiss your feet on sight has a smart mouth. Could it be that you, as I've said, just like to be in charge of everything in the world?"

He looks at me with a sort of amused appraisal. "I might have once. But perhaps people can grow."

I take a long sip of wine. "Do you think that's really true?"

"Of people?"

"Yes."

"If they choose to."

"Mmm. Yeah." I think of who was meant to be occupying the seat next to me tonight. I've been contemplating the possibility of change for a bit now. But I guess for him to do that and take the steps to heal what's been hurt in our relationship, he would have to make that choice. "Sometimes they don't."

"No," he agrees. I can see him looking at me curiously, probably wondering what I've just become so mysterious about.

I decide to just change the subject. "What made you decide to come out tonight? Mia and Kate have both told me that you don't usually frequent these events."

"Mia has said she doesn't see enough of me and had recently asked me to come by her restaurant."

A very small part of me had wondered if maybe he wanted to see me. But that's a silly thought, and completely ridiculous to consider any further. "Yes, she thinks very highly of you."

We both end up looking down the table at her, laughing and talking with the guests on either side of her, a perfect hostess. "I don't know if that's wise of her, but it's a testament to how good she is." He pauses. "And… what's happened to your companion?"

I immediately reach for the wine again, feeling my shoulders slump. "Work. He was late, so I just went along."

"That seems…" He pauses again, seeming to search for the right word. "Inconsiderate."

"Why do you never go with anyone?" If he can ask me about that, I can ask him about this.

"I never want to go with anyone."

"Well… has anything changed? Do you ever try to meet people in… different ways?"

"Different how?" he asks suspiciously.

"Different from how you did before." It's just a question…

"I think there was only one circumstance where I would have tried something different." He looks me directly in my eyes, no trace of teasing or sarcasm in his expression. Does he mean…?

Just then, a plate is placed in front of each of us, and we're forced to sit up straight. I hadn't realized how much we were leaning into each other. It's almost as if the bubble popped and I suddenly remember that we're in a crowded room humming with the conversation of other diners.

I focus diligently on my food, though I can feel Christian's eyes on me from time to time. "Are you ignoring me?" he says with amusement in his voice after some time.

"I'm just eating."

"Yes, I see that."

"Isn't that a good thing?" I counter.

"It's certainly different."

"It's really not anymore."

We manage a few more minutes of silence and then he murmurs in my ear, the proximity sending a shiver up my spine. "Why do I feel like you're trying to start a fight?"

"With who?"

"With me."

I sigh, put my fork down, and look at him. "What could we possibly have to fight about?"

"You tell me, you're the one ignoring me."

"Christian. I just think… with our past… boundaries are important, that's all. Look at the way everyone is looking at us, and we get to talking and barely notice. I just think it's not good for either of us to not be aware of that." In other words, I can't get caught up in a moment with you. I can't.

He looks like he's searching my face while searching for a response, but Mia stands up and claps her hands a few times. "Thank you all for coming, everyone! We've managed to raise $25,000 for our cause tonight, so your dinner came with a side of activism! Stay tuned for dessert to come out, and until then, the dance floor is now open!"

People start getting up and mingling, so I stand up too. "I think this is my cue to leave."

"Ana—" he starts.

"Ana!" Mia bounds up to us both. "Whatever the hell was up with Cameron, I'm so glad you came. You ready for dancing?"

"Actually, I think I'm going to get going, but thank you so much for having me."

"Oh, come on! Just one? I'm sure Christian would be happy to escort you. And I'd be interested to see the other guests' faces when they see grumpy old Grey participating in the fun."

Christian looks at her with indulgent amusement, then looks back at me. "What do you say, Miss Steele, one dance?"

Both of them are looking at me expectantly, and I feel on the spot. "I guess one couldn't hurt."

He takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor, and just then the song changes. I stiffen slightly as I realize what's started playing. I may be reliving a core memory right now.

"You remember?" he asks softly.

Witchcraft by Frank Sinatra. In his great room, in another lifetime. "Yes."

"Perhaps this is your cue to stay?"

I look into his eyes as I think of my response. I really don't understand this behavior. He's been seeking me out all evening. He seems sincere and honestly, much calmer and more considerate than I remember him then, but is that part of the act? "I think you're playing with fire. And you're playing with me because I'm not falling into your arms like I was then. But that's really not fair. You wanted my fiancé to know about our past, what, so you can tease it in public?"

"Respectfully, Anastasia, your fiancé isn't here. There's nothing and no one to tease. Is it really me that's treating you unfairly?" Jesus Christ. This is the last thing I want to talk about with the last person I'd want to talk about it with. "Don't pull away," he says insistently. "Don't you think this behavior of his is unfair? He's meant to accompany you to an event, and he just doesn't show up?"

"Christian… you don't know what's going on with us." Hell, I don't even know what's going on with us. "I appreciate the concern, but please, leave it alone."

We are barely swaying now, talking closely. "It's not easy for me," he says in a low voice.

"What isn't?"

"Leaving this alone."

I think about asking what he means, but then I feel like I would be playing with fire. The song wraps up and I step away, needing oxygen in my brain, not just his scent swirling around up there. "Thank you for the company tonight, Christian. Have a good evening." Before he can answer, I head back to the table with as much speed as I can, grab my bag, and hightail it for the door.

In a not unexpected move, I hear someone calling me as I book it down the street. He just can never leave things alone. "Ana!"

I turn and Christian is hastening towards me. "Christian, I'm fine. Please don't."

He stops in front of me and puts both hands firmly on my arms, looking me right in the eyes. "If you need anything, you will come to me."

I'm struck by the intensity in his voice. "Is that an order?"

"It's a plea."

I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. "Okay," I breathe.

He reaches up and brushes my cheek once with the back of his hand, then clenches his jaw and steps away, turning and walking back towards the restaurant, leaving me standing on the street.

A/N: Thank you for your patience! And yes, Ana is in some serious denial.