Chapter Fifteen
~Anastasia~
Kate and I were sitting Indian style on the king size bed in one of the guest rooms. The room, the one Ray always stayed in, is not as big as Christian's, is huge. It's decorated in the same style as his, only the bed isn't a four poster. It is made out of that same gray wood that reminds me of driftwood. It was my second night of sleeping in it. My hurt and anger were too heavy for me to share a bed with Christian. It would surely would have broken from the weight of it all.
Right then, all I cared about it was the woman in front of me. She came to check on me with Elliot once she got off work. She was wearing a gray pantsuit with a black shirt underneath, and her black Louboutin's were on the floor. Elliot and Christian were tucked up in his study and I'd finally gotten Kate to myself.
She no longer looked apprehensive or guarded. She didn't look tired when she first stepped out of the elevator with Elliot, but after our deeply informative conversation, Kate looked deflated and exhausted.
"You didn't tell Elliot back then? He still doesn't know?" I asked her once again.
"No, of course not, and I'm not going to. I'm not tattling about his brother's sex life," she replied. "Nor am I going to break your confidence. You already know this."
"I can't believe you didn't kill Christian back then. Or confront him, especially after the belt incident."
"Trust me, I wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill him slowly. But it was like you told me back then, you were an adult and could do as you pleased. Naturally, I was knocked on my ass, but I wasn't going to mess up our relationship with an attempted murder charge, or running to some news rag detailing the secret life of Christian Grey." Kate undid the clip holding her hair up and it fell past her shoulders. "Things were rough between us the first couple of days after he hurt you. I wanted to confront him and tell him what I knew. Again, we talked about it until I was over wanting to throttle you for getting involved with him in the first place, putting yourself in the position to be hurt. And we both knew that going at the mogul wouldn't have been the best idea," she finished.
"I had a feeling you were keeping something from me. Once Christian told me the specifics about our early days, I was positive that's what you were hiding."
"Ana, it wasn't as much as hiding. I was hoping that Grey would tell you. He didn't, and yes, it drove me crazy and pissed me off, but I couldn't go to him and tell him to fess up. If I had, then he'd know I was aware of everything. You would have been pissed if I'd done that, anyway, and you know it."
"If those were your feeling about Christian, why are the two of you friends now?"
Kate had pursed her lips and looked deep in thought. "He means the world to Elliot. You love the man beyond reason. I watched him genuinely change. I had two options: have an enemy of a person who is greatly loved by the two people who mean the most to me in this world. That would have hurt everyone. I wasn't going to hurt anyone. At some point, my animosity thawed and he stopped being an ass, and we realized that we're more alike than we like."
I stretched my legs out straight and tossed my journal in her lap. She'd eyed it warily when she first saw it on the bed.
"Open it up. Go to the beginning of May," I told her. "Skim through it. All the way to where I stopped writing." I'd told her.
Kate's manicured fingers flipped through the pages. I watched her eyes as they ran across every page." Her brow furrowed in a few places but she didn't appear to be outraged or shocked by any of it. I sat in silence. The only sound in the room was the rustling of paper.
"So, it stops a few days before you left, Grey. What of it?" she'd asked.
"Don't you think I was being vague, as in, extremely vague about what I wrote?"
"Well, considering you'd signed an NDA, I'd surmise that's why you kept it vague. You wouldn't want anyone to find and read that."
"Why wouldn't I have written about me leaving him and why I did? There are twenty blank pages left. I counted them. I wonder why I didn't write about it, or continue to write in it until it was full," I'd replied.
Kate shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe you didn't feel the need since we talked about it non-stop. As far as not writing in the damn thing until it was full, I've got zero theories. You never wrote in front of me, so I can't say whether you'd stopped." She shrugged.
"I looked to see if any pages had been torn or cut out."
She'd raised eyebrow at me, opened the journal again, and scrutinized the pages. "It doesn't look like anything has been. Are you saying that you think that Grey did some creative editing, or what?"
"No, I'm just saying that the thought did cross my mind, so I checked. Plus, the fact that I never wrote about what happened, our break up, and when we got back together. I'm curious that I quit writing in it before it was full."
She'd sighed. "Did you ask him?"
"Yes," I'd told her. "He swore that he hadn't."
"But you don't believe him? You're confusing me, Steele."
"I believe him. I could tell that he was being honest. It just makes me wonder, and I can't remember anything about that time, so it's disconcerting."
"I get it. You're frustrated that you can't remember. Well, my advice will sound callous since it's about you losing four months of your life; stop over analyzing an unfinished journal and why you'd written so vaguely in it. There's a much more important situation going on with you and Grey," she'd said.
"Kate, I told you about my relationship with Christian?" I'd asked one more time.
"Steele, I know everything."
It's been two weeks since my conversation with Kate and I feel lighter. It's like I started out with what Christian had told me about our relationship, and then I connected the dots back to Kate, where they matched.
That night, I insisted that Kate and Elliot stay for dinner and we ordered two pizzas. When the pizza's arrived, Kate poured a glass of white wine and the guys grabbed two beers. When I poured a ginger-ale out, two narrowed Kavanagh eyes were boring a hole in my face. She's no fool, so we told them that I'm pregnant and swore them to secrecy. At times, I think that Kate is more anxious about my pregnancy than I am. She has definitely, at times, made me quite anxious about it, but she means well. Elliot, on the other hand, keeps asking when we're getting married, and that's when you can see a roll of tension enter the room. He's clueless about the current situation with me and his younger brother and doesn't know how uncomfortable it makes Christian and I. We're still uncomfortable because we're still spending minutes, hours, and days discussing what he did and why he did it. I'm having a hard time processing the fact that he lied to me for so many months.
Discussing all of that doesn't fix the trust he broke more than it could fix a broken bone.
When Christian and I are in a room alone together, I immediately feel exhausted and my thoughts quickly go to inflicting self-induced pain. Of course, that's not an option. I can feel that Christian is repentant, however, I can't feel forgiveness on my tongue when he asks me to grant it to him. I'm not doing it to be cruel or childish and I'm trying like hell to work through it with Dr. Powell. I don't want to end my relationship with Christian, I'm in love with him, and that's why I'm dragging myself over the hot coals of therapy. If it weren't for therapy, I'd have never stopped sleeping in the guest bedroom.
My problem with my over bearing boyfriend isn't about the BDSM or that he hit me with a belt. I've worked through that the more I learned about what exactly happened and that I could have told
Christian to stop by say one three letter word: red. He got carried away and I in my own way, did too.
He spends his time around me trying his hardest to act non-threatening and I spend mine acting like all is perfectly fine. I don't quite understand how two people who routinely see their psychiatrists could still be so fucked up.
Today is my first appointment with Dr. Greene. I don't know who's more nervous: me, Christian or Kate. Kate, is now putting my hair in a high pony tail. It's in the early evening and she came here right after work. I'm not sure if it was to wring her hands or to loudly disapprove of my black leggings and long white sweater. I don't care about her protests. I'm dressed for comfort.
"I can't wait to see the ultrasound. Or find out your due date. It's got to be in September. I've counted back too many times to have gotten it wrong," she blabbers. It's like Mia talking.
"Hush, Kate. We don't know if Dr. Greene will do an ultrasound." I sigh.
"Oh, she will. It's routine when you first find out your pregnant. The doc checks to see if everything is running like it should."
I laugh at her. "I can't believe you just said that. Elliot's wearing off on you."
"Maybe, but I'm excited. You'd better call me the minute you leave that appointment, Ana Steele, or I will be supremely pissed off."
'Yes, Mom. I wonder if Christian paid Dr. Greene for this after-hours appointment. He has to, because he's already asked her for house calls and it's obvious, she doesn't care for him at all."
"Who cares if he did? Let's go, it's time to leave," she replies, nudging me towards the door.
Christian is waiting in the living room. He's still in the suit he wore to work and looks outrageously handsome. He smiles, but is radiating anxiety. Maybe he's the winner of the who's more anxious game.
"Mogul, I did try to get Ana out of these leggings, I swear. Naturally, she refused," Kate tells him, smiling.
"Anastasia could be wearing a paper bag and still look beautiful," he answers her while looking me over. "How are you feeling?" he asks me.
I make a face. "The usual. Feeling sea sick, and throwing up whatever I eat."
Christian frowns and I mentally kick myself about bringing the food that I'm not holding down.
Before he can ask for a detailed list of what I've tried to eat, and how many times that I've thrown up, I ask him, "Are you going to change clothes?"
He grimaces at my words, checks his extraordinarily expensive watch and shakes his head. Of course, he isn't. He's Mr. On Time. "No. I don't want to be late. It was hard enough to get Dr. Greene to agree to an appointment this late."
I give Kate a knowing look and she looks away to keep from laughing.
Christian helps me into my coat, places a hand on the small of my back and leads the way to the elevator. Kate's grabbed her coat and purse and is on her heels. We're all mostly quiet as we watch the floors drop until the elevator doors open and reveal the garage. I exhale a deep breath that I didn't know I was holding as a cold gust of air hits my face. I didn't realize how cold it was.
We step out of the elevator and Kate engulfs me in a hug. "I love you. Call me the minute you're finished."
I nod. "Pinky promise, I'll call you. Now go home."
She gives me a quick peck on the cheek when her security detail appears out of nowhere. Only this time, there's another. A female that I've never seen.
Christian put a male CPO on Kate after our apartment was torched, and surprisingly, she didn't complain. No one's told me that he's added another. I walk to the SUV wondering why. I know that I've thought that Kate's been jumpy since my last hospitalization at Harborview. I never brought it up and she's never said that anything has her out of sorts. It's probably nothing but Christian being the overprotective person that he is, so I don't ask him about I t.
Kate's whisked away by her highly paid watchers while Christian opens the backseat to the SUV and helps me inside. Taylor's driving with Sawyer riding shotgun. In other words, their norm.
Heavy, dark clouds meet us as we leave the parking garage. An annoying mist of rain is falling from the sky. I hope this moody weather doesn't hint at a less than pleasant doctor's appointment. I don't know anyone who enjoys going to the doctor, but since I've seen so many, in such a short period of time, I really don't relish this appointment.
"You should have worn gloves," Christian's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. He's holding my hands in one of his. I didn't notice when he took them.
"I'm fine, Christian. We're just walking from the curb to the front door of Dr. Greene's office."
"I don't want you sick, Anastasia. Your body is already weak from your morning sickness," he replies.
I sigh. "Christian, germs make people sick, not the temperature or the weather. And it's all morning, day, and night sickness."
His warm lips make contact with one of my hands. "I'm sorry. I know that you've been miserable." He smells so good.
"It's been the worst. I'm going to see if there's anything that she can give me to make it stop."
Christian squints at me.
"I thought taking medication while you were pregnant wasn't safe," he says.
"Not every medication. And I've read up about it. Don't start worrying about something that you're unsure about, all right?" I reply.
He kisses my hand again and agrees begrudgingly. A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips. I do love it when I win an argument – or what could be an argument – with Christian Grey.
We shortly arrive at Dr. Greene's, and Taylor parallel parks right in front of her office door. Sawyer hops out and I watch him walk up to it and tap a few times. My gynecologist, my very annoyed looking gynecologist, walks to the door and lets him in. He disappears, and I look at Christian.
"He's doing a sweep of Dr. Greene's office?" I say in shock. "How much did that cost you?"
"Yes, he is, and he's doing it because I'm not letting you go anywhere that hasn't been secured first. She got paid enough not to complain about it," he replies.
"I know she already didn't have the warm fuzzies about you, but I bet she really doesn't like you now."
Christian smiles. "Her bank account certainly likes me." He's so cute when he's arrogant.
Sawyer comes out and leads me and Christian inside. He follows us inside, turns around and locks the door, and I want to fall in a crack in the pavement. This is so embarrassing. I hope this doesn't make her dislike me the way she dislikes Christian. I turn to look out the door and see Taylor standing in front of the door. Thank God there's an awning over his head or his fancy suit would get ruined.
Sawyer leads us into an empty waiting room and plants himself by the entry way. I understand we need their protection, but tagging along at an appointment with my gynecologist is embarrassing. I wonder if this extreme babysitting will end once they find Hyde and Williams, or is it the norm in the life of a billionaire and his girlfriend?
Dr. Greene's office is painted in rich blues and always smells like a honeysuckle. The waiting room has comfortable chairs that aren't' hard plastic like most doctor's offices. The carpet is just a shade lighter than the walls. Classical music is barely audible. The entire office screams comfort.
Dr. Greene, immaculate as always, emerges from her office and gives Christian a disapproving look.
"Good evening, Ana," she says, ignoring Christian altogether, "Follow me," she says briskly.
Before I can respond, she turns on her very high heels and leads us down a hall. She's wearing a black pencil skirt and ruffled red top. I think it's made of chiffon.
Once inside, she hands me a paper gown and a plastic container. I frown at her. "You know what to do with this," she tells me while handing me the container. "Remove your leggings and panties. Cover your bottom with this. Not couture, but necessary for the ultrasound. You can keep your sweater on."
I hear Christian and Dr. Greene conversing quietly as I return to the exam room. She points at the exam table and Christian helps me onto it. The piece of paper that's covering me is thin and this office is cold. Dr. Greene must notice I'm trembling because she leaves the room and returns with a warm blanket that she places over me.
"We know the blood serum test they did while you were in the hospital confirmed you're pregnant, but I'm doing one to make sure nothing's happened in the past two weeks," she says, dipping a small white stick into my urine sample.
"What kind of changes are you referring to?" Christian asks her. I can hear the alarm in his voice.
She looks up at him, her eyes serious. "I'm simply double checking, Mr. Grey." Dr. Greene doesn't like Christian Grey one bit.
The stick immediately turns pink as we all knew it would. "Well, Ana, since there's no question, you're pregnant. Now let's see how pregnant you are. Excuse me while I dispose of this." She nods at the plastic container and quickly hustles from the room.
"Calm down, Christian. And please stop giving Dr. Greene dirty looks," I whisper hiss at him.
"How can you expect me to be calm, Ana? I don't know how to handle this shit," he replies in a gruff whisper.
I scowl at him. "You don't know how to handle this? You aren't on an exam table half naked, draped with a huge piece of paper, and not knowing why. Calm down, for my sake, please? And will you please stop fidgeting? I'm already a nervous wreck."
Dr. Greene clicks her way back into the room. She drapes another blanket across the lower part of my body, then pulls the ultrasound machine closer to the table. After a few clicks, the screen comes to life, and she quickly types in my name.
"Ana, I need you to scoot down a bit and bend your knees, then part them wide," she orders.
"Why?" I mutter, not moving. I look up at Christian and he looks as uncomfortable as I feel.
"Because it's too early to do an external ultrasound, I'm afraid. This one is a transvaginal ultrasound." Dr. Greene holds up a long probe and pulls a condom over it and then lubricates it.
"Will this hurt Ana?" Christian asks. I look at him, and he's furiously running a hand through his hair. "Absolutely not. Now scoot down, Ana, and keep yourself covered with the blanket."
I do as she says after taking Christian's hand. The one he isn't using to tear his hair out with.
"We don't have a missed period to calculate how far along you are, but your blood serum levels indicated five, maybe six weeks. Ana, please relax and we'll take a look," she says matter-of-factly.
Christian has finally stopped tearing at his hair and offers me a reassuring smile. I don't return it, I'm too busy feeling Dr. Greene slowly and gently inserting the probe. It doesn't hurt; it's uncomfortable. Slowly, Dr. Greene moves the probe around, which in return, increases my discomfort and anxiety.
Christian and I are watching the screen, which is nothing but gray fuzz. He's squeezing the hell out of my hand. I don't think I'm even breathing. Fear and anticipation have mingled and is coursing through me.
Dr. Greene speaks. "There we go," she murmurs. She hits a button and it causes the screen to freeze. Taking the mouse, she uses the cursor to circle a tiny black dot in that mass of gray screen. "I know it doesn't look like much, but that black dot is your baby, and it's showing you're farther along than they told you in the hospital. You're not quite over nine weeks."
She continues to slowly move the wand around and touches some more buttons and then the room is filled with the sounds of a beating heart. It's a loud and fast whooshing sound that takes my breath away. I'm paralyzed as I listen to what I know is the beating of my baby's heart.
Dr. Greene smiles. "That's a sound heartbeat, Ana. Everything looks good." She delicately removes the wand and hands me paper towels to clean myself. "I've printed off a few shots of the ultrasound for you." She hands them to Christian. "Get cleaned up and dressed and come to my office so we can discuss some things," she tells us.
I don't' move or answer her. My head is still tilted as I stare stunned at the tiny black dot on the screen. I'm not sure how long the silence drags before Christian shakes my hand to get my attention. I take in his face and shake the cobwebs from my mind. His gray eyes are watery as he looks from me, to the screen, and back again.
I'm nearly choking on my spit, as even my throat has ceased to function properly. I slowly nod, still not speaking. His hands are shaking. My insides are quaking, and I feel unsteady from the heavy emotions that have landed upon me.
"Yes, thank you," Christian distractedly replies.
It's like I'm a boat that's caught on choppy waters. I'm overwhelmed and reeling, and a million of other feelings that I can't name surge through me. I was expecting confusion and uncertainty, but not this warm need to protect what's captured on the picture in Christian's hands. There's not an ounce of confusion or uncertainty. Once she's scurried out of the room, Christian helps me wipe the messy gel away, and get off the table. I quickly dress. I'm turned away as I pull up my leggings, but I feel his eyes on me.
I swallow hard before quietly facing him. His eyes are guarded and he looks afraid. I hold my arm out to him and don't have to say a word. He silently passes me the picture of our baby. Now I feel it. The mixed chromosomes. Christian and I meshed, are captured in this picture in my hands. I can feel our entangled DNA. A part of this complicated man that I love is inside me. That black dot is a baby. It's our baby. A precious baby created by our love, because in spite of everything, we've always been in love. I honestly don't believe there will ever be a day we won't be, no matter what happens.
With trembling hands, I hold onto the little print out and bury my eyes in it. One day that black dot will be in my arms. I don't realize I'm crying until I see a tear land on the picture. Christian rushes to my side and pulls me into his arms. He smells so good, like his body wash and a scent like no other. It's more than comforting. It's safe, and his arms feel like home.
"It's real now, isn't it?" he whispers. He sounds dazed.
"Yeah," I whisper in return. "How do you feel?"
"I'm scared shitless." Christian's arms tighten around me and he's muttering something inaudible into my hair. Then, my tears come swiftly and wrack my body. They are tears of relief and resolve.
I'm almost sure that my mind will never be the same as it was, but that doesn't matter. My life will never be the same because of this black dot, and I'm rocked by how happy that makes me.
A white handkerchief is suddenly in my hand, and I dab my face dry. I step out of Christian's arms and look up at him. His eyes bright and filling with tears. He cups my face, bends to meet my lips and chastely kisses me.
"You don't need to be scared, Chrisitan. You'll be the best daddy," I tell him, forehead against forehead. "Who should be afraid of being a parent is me. I don't think that I've ever held a baby. What if I have an episode when I'm holding it and drop on the floor?"
"Stop that. You'll be the mother every child deserves. You're kind and love unconditionally. You're perfect," he breaks into my panicked ridden torrent of words. "I love you more than anything in this world, Anastasia."
Those three words cause me to melt inside and I shyly smile at him. "I love you, too, but I'm far from perfect. I don't know why you believe that."
Christian's face is lit up as he smiles and shakes his head. "You wouldn't be able to love me if you weren't perfect, Anastasia Steele."
"Quit calling me Anastasia," I say, my voice muffled as I pick up the task of wiping my face.
"It's your name," he says in the most playful tone that I've heard in ages.
"I like Ana."
"I like Anastasia. Anastasia." We both laugh, probably from relief mingled with disbelief.
"Let me put on my boots and we can go talk with Dr. Greene," I tell him.
Dr. Greene is behind her desk and tapping away on her laptop keyboard. She looks up when we enter the room. "Have a seat, both of you," she says.
Christian has both of our coats in his hands and drapes them across the back of his chair. I sit in the one beside him and look around the room. Despite being her patient, I've never been her in her office. One wall holds several boards of pictures of newborns that say she's delivered. The number's crazy. Christian's busying himself by playing with a model of a uterus. I almost hit him in the back of the head like Kate's always doing to Elliot.
Dr. Greene stops her typing and stands. "Ana, please stand and step on the scale. I need to get a weight on you."
Christian is craning his neck to see. We all watch the scale zero, I stand on it, and one-ten shines up at us. My food and weight tracking boyfriend gives me a dirty look. "One-ten is far too light isn't it, Dr. Greene?"
I jump in before Dr. Greene can say anything. "Dr. Greene, I've been throwing up non stop for weeks. It's all day and night sickness. That's why I've lost weight," I tell her.
"When was the last time you weighed yourself? How much did you weigh?" she asks. She sounds as impatient as Christian.
I honestly don't remember. They'll love this. "I don't recall exactly. But it was one-eighteen."
"What the hell, Ana? You've lost that much weight?" Christian exclaims.
Dr. Greene turns and gives him a pointed look that's screaming for him to shut up. Instead, she tells me to sit and rounds back to her own chair behind her desk. She goes back to her computer and pecks, pecks, pecks.
"How tall are you, Ana?"
"Five-three," I answer.
More pecking. Then she stops, and her printer begins to run and several pieces of paper fill the trap and she takes them. "Baby Grey's measurements have you at nearing ten weeks. Based upon that, you're looking at a due date of September fifteenth."
"Oh, wow. That's near my birthday. I was born on September tenth," I tell, her. I smile back at a smiling Christian.
"I see that, congratulations. Wouldn't that be a nice birthday gift," Dr. Greene replies. "Here are a few information sheets you might want. Just basic info on foods you should avoid. There's also a prescription for a low dosage of the drug Phenergan. It's safe to take while pregnant. I suggest you take one the minute you wake up in the morning. It will make you sleepy-'
"I didn't think that you could take any medication while pregnant," Christian interrupts her.
"Yes, you can, Mr. Grey." She looks at him over her reading glasses. "I've got the list of the meds you're on now. I'm sorry to tell you that the Ativan has to go. If you've been taking them since you've learned your pregnant, stop, and don't take another one."
"Ana hasn't," Christian says, and I don't like him talking for me.
"I haven't, Dr. Greene. What about my anti-depressant? My psychiatrist said the one that I was on wasn't contraindicated, but did lower the dose. What's your opinion?" I ask her.
"My opinion is that unless there's a mental illness that can only be controlled by an anti-depressant, you have to be very cautious about the medication that it is, along with the dosage. If the illness is one that can be helped by talk therapy, then I suggest not taking the anti-depressant at all. If needed, have your psychiatrist contact my office to go over options" she replies, not giving me a chance to interject. "The narcotics for the headaches are only when you have one, yes?"
Christian and I both nod. "That should be fine, if it's needed. Studies show many pregnant women take them and the baby is fine."
For some reason, I'm beginning to feel overwhelmed and anxious. I'm an overflowing sink. The more we talk about this, the fact that I'm going to be a mother is becoming a hard reality and I'm frightened. I can feel my face flushing and I'm afraid that I'm about to have a panic attack for some reason. Probably the fear of them unknown. I should be acquainted with that feeling because I've been living with it for months.
"Everything all right, Ana. You're flushed," Dr. Green inquires.
Christian reaches over and places a hand on my thigh. I sag from relief. For once, for once in a long time, his touch is soothing.
"I'm fine. Just a bit overwhelmed."
"I understand, it's overwhelming." She stops and looks back at her computer screen. "Ana, you'll need to begin taking pre-natal vitamins and folic acid. You can buy these over the counter." Dr. Greene stands and I know that we're being dismissed. "When it comes to your nausea and vomiting, try to eat small meals several times a day. Drink as much as you can. Ginger-ale or Sprite with a sprig of mint in it is good. If you are still vomiting this much in a week, time, let me know. Neither of us want you back in the hospital with an IV in your arm replenishing you with fluids. Now, do you have any questions?"
I look at Christian, and realize he probably has a thousand, so I speak up before he can. "No, I think we're good for now."
"Good. You'll need to make an appointment to come back in four weeks. Call in the morning when the office is open," Dr. Greene says, scowling at Christian as she says it.
"Of course. Thank you so much, Dr. Greene." I reach out and we shake hands. Christian does the same, although I don't think Dr. Greene is keen on shaking my boyfriend's hand.
After she wishes us a good evening, Sawyer heads to door and unlocks it. It's begun to rain heavily. Taylor materializes with an umbrella and holds it over my head. Christian helps me in the back seat. Looking back at Dr. Greene's office, I watch her unlock her office door.
Christian reaches across me and snaps my seatbelt. Pausing, he kisses me, I can feel a smile on his lips. I can't resist tugging on his unruly hair. He pulls away and reaches to take the ultrasound picture from me.
Before he takes it, and Taylor cranks the SUV, Christian exclaims, "Shit!"
"What's the matter?" I ask.
"Taylor, stay put. I left our coats in there and my cell is in mine," he tells his number one man.
"Sir, Sawyer will go get it," Taylor is telling him, but Christian's already jumped out of the SUV. "Sawyer, go with him." Taylor sounds irritated. Christian slams the back door and I watch him knocking on the glass door of Dr. Greene's office – that she's already locked. She's probably headed out the back door of her office where the parking lot is. This should be interesting. I sigh.
Christian and Sawyer are getting soaked, and Christian looks like he's about to blow. His impatience, mixed with standing in a cold downpour, is pissing him off. Great. He'll be in a bad mood for the rest of the evening.
Suddenly, I hear a phone vibrating, and it's close to where I'm sitting. Glancing around, I see that Taylor is looking around the back seat as well. Obviously, he heard it, too. The phone, Christian's phone it turns out, is wedged, face down between the seats and continues to vibrate.
I pick it up and turn it over so I can see the screen. "Elena" is flashing on the screen. My eyes dart up and meet Taylor's, who turns around in his seat.
Elena.
My stomach churns. Who is this, and could she be one of Christian's former submissives? Shit, it keeps vibrating and I don't know if I should answer it or not.
Oh, fuck this. "Hello," I say. My tone sounds much more confident than I feel. I look out the window. Christian is now practically knocking Dr. Greene's door down. For a second or two, all I hear is silence and it makes me uneasy. Who is this woman and why is she calling Christian?
My imagination is running wild and the scenarios I'm having are making me jealous. "Hello," I repeat. My tone is glacial. "Who is this?"
"Hello, is this Christian's phone?" A woman's soft voice startles me. Now I'm hot from jealousy. Who the hell is this?
"Who's speaking?" Like I'm going to say, "Yes, this is Christian Grey's cell phone."
"Mrs. Lincoln," she replies. She sounds hesitant to reveal who she is. Lincoln? Elena Lincoln, I suppose since 'Elena' was the name on the cell's display screen. I've heard Grace say that an Elena Lincoln is a friend of hers. I also remember Kate, Mia, and Elliot telling me this woman was nearby when I passed out at Grace's birthday party. They also didn't hide the fact they disliked her. But why is she calling Christian?
Another glance toward Dr. Greene's office shows her unlocking the door for a very angry Christian. "Mrs. Elena Lincoln?" I ask. A very odd feeling is touching me.
"Yes," she begins tentatively. "Is this Anastasia?"
"Yes, can I help you?" I curtly ask. I'm not sure why I feel like I should be so guarded about this Mrs. Lincoln, but I'm done with ignoring my feelings.
"I've hoped to speak to you. Grace speaks so highly of you, and I've wanted to tell you how happy I am that you've recovered from your accident, as well as your spell at Grace's birthday party."
I look from the closed door of Dr. Greene's office and catch a quick look from Taylor in the rearview window. He looks away.
"Thank you," I reply, not knowing what else to say, other than asking why Grace's friend is calling her son. And why her number is programmed in Christian's phone.
"I'm so happy to know how happy Christian is. Grace and Carrick are simply thrilled that you're in his life. Grace comments on the change in Christian every time that I see her."
Good, that's nice, and everyone is happy, however, why is this woman telling me this? Why is she calling Christian?
God, hurry up and tell me before Christian comes storming out of Greene's office.
"Christian's unavailable. Would you like to leave a message?"
She doesn't answer straight away. "Just that I called and I need to speak to him," she says softly. About what?
"I'll tell Christian." I'm close to being rude. I suppose because I'm not used to women calling my boyfriend. Especially one who's old enough to be his mother.
"Thank you, Anastasia. I hope to see you soon. Goodbye."
"Bye." I think I hit the phone's end button before she heard me. The phone is still in my hand when the door flies open and a very wet Christian hurls himself in the backseat swearing loudly.
"Mother fucking phone isn't in my jacket. We looked everywhere in that goddamned place for it Shit!" he hollers.
I wince from his yelling and hold up his cell phone. He stares at it like it's the first time he's ever seen it.
"It was in here?" he asks.
"Wedged in the seats," I tell him.
He grabs it from my hand and gives me a dirty look. "Did you ever think of calling Sawyer to tell him it was in the car? It would have saved us from getting soaked and then tearing Greene's office apart. "Stop it, Christian. Quit acting like the world is ending. I found it right before you came busting out of the building," I lie. Fingers crossed that Taylor doesn't rat my lie out.
"Fucking bullshit. Greene's a fucking smart ass. It took every bit of self-restraint to keep from firing her as your doctor. I think I'll find another one for you."
"You'll do no such thing. I like and trust Dr. Greene. You can hate her all you want, but she's still going to be my doctor. God, what's your problem? So, you got wet and had to wait for her to open the door. Big deal."
He rests his head back and closes his eyes. I know he's trying to calm himself down, but this isn't something that should have him so worked up. He can act just like a teenager at times. A teenager who doesn't get their way and throws hissy fits.
Christian opens his eyes and turns his head towards me. His expression is wary.
"You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked to you that way. I apologize. Forgive me?" He kisses my hand.
"Just. You seriously need to work on some coping skills. I don't see how you've made it this far in life behaving the way you do. Were you rude to Dr. Greene?"
He smirks. "Just."
"Christian!" I exclaim.
"I wasn't overtly rude to her. She understood I was frustrated. Don't worry, I left her unscathed, I promise." He's smiling a boyish grin, and I have to return his smile.
I also have a question to ask him.
"Who's Elena Lincoln?"
Christian's grin slips and he's looking at me in a way I can't decipher.
"Why do you ask?" He sits up straight in his seat.
"She called you."
"When?"
My odd feeling has resurfaced. I'm watching discomfort overtake Christian's face and body language. "While you were inside Dr. Greene's."
"You answered my phone?"
"Why wouldn't I? I've answered it before." I reply.
Christian doesn't answer, and I feel his hostility like static electricity. What's this about? It can't be because I answered his phone. I've done it several times and he didn't care. Yet here he sits, emitting hot anger. He looks out the window.
"What's wrong with you now?"
He loudly sighs. "Nothing's wrong, Ana."
"You're lying. Christian, look at me." He does so reluctantly. "It would be helpful if you'd tell me what's wrong. I thought we promised there would be no more lies." I tell him.
I don't want to dredge up the past, but I can feel it climbing up and halfway out of my throat. I swallow hard, trying to stop the past from spilling out of me and all over our lives.
"We did," he replies. Sullen and petulant Christian Grey is frustrating as hell. I thought we'd made a breakthrough in our relationship, bonding over our unborn child. But here Christian sits, closed off and visibly angry for some reason, and I don't believe it's because he's wet. It seems like it's always tedious and vacillation when it comes to Christian's fucking mood swings.
God damn, I'm sick of this. Is this because I answered his phone? Surely not. I've answered it before and he didn't care at all. His attitude didn't change until I told him his mother's friend had called. Why would that make him mad? Doesn't he like this woman? What if he does like this woman? No, that couldn't be it. He said I'm the only woman he'd had a conventional relationship with, plus, I don't think he'd be involved with a woman his mother's age – or her friend. Plus, I seriously doubt a woman in Grace's upper crust inner circle being a submissive or into BDSM. That's ludicrous.
I watch the rain splatter on the car window and feel unsettled, although I don't understand why. I also don't understand why Christian would have a friend of Grace's phone number programmed into his phone. That doesn't make sense.
"Christian, why was a friend of your mother calling you?" I ask his profile.
"What did she want?" he deflects.
I narrow my eyes. "I have no idea. She told me to tell you that she called and for you to return her phone call."
He slides his phone into his pants pocket and finally looks at me.
"Is she also your friend? I mean, is she your friend as well as your mother's?"
"No."
Ah. Now I understand why this is so strange.
"Only people close to you are programmed into your phone by their first name." I sound much calmer than I feel.
"What?" He's genuinely puzzled.
"I'm referring to the people in your contacts and the way they're listed. I'm Ana, Kate's 'Kavanagh', Elliot's 'Lel', Ros is 'Ros', Mia's 'Mia'—" Christian's staring at me intently. Watching me like a hawk. It's disconcerting.
"True," he interrupts. "What are you getting at, Ana?" He's being evasive. For some reason, he feels it necessary to appear unaffected.
I shrug. "I'm not sure. All I'm saying is that your personal lawyer, personal accountant, all of your business associates, are listed by their first and last name. Even Claude, which I don't understand, considering he's pretty damn close to you."
"You've gone through my phone?" He turns his entire body towards me, and defensiveness hardens his tone.
"No. But I have seen the display screen when people call you. I've never snooped through your phone, or anything else of yours to be exact. I just know because I've got two eyes and those two eyes have seen your phone ring." I unsnap my seatbelt to fully face him, otherwise, I'd feel at a disadvantage. Christian's intimidating even when he's not trying to be.
"No, she's not my friend. Yes, she used to be my friend." I know he's watching for a reaction.
"I was a silent partner in her chain of hair salons, but I gifted my shares in the chain months ago. To be exact, I ended our business partnership while you were in a coma." His voice is low, soft, and calm.
Hair salons?
Christian Grey, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc, was in partnership with a chain of beauty shops? A multibillion-dollar company was involved with a chain of beauty shops?
"Why would your company have its name attached to a beauty shop?"
Christian sighs. "It was a sideline and my company wasn't specifically involved. I became a silent partner as a favor."
"A favor for your mother's friend?"
"Yes."
"Why isn't she your friend anymore? Why did you end your business partnership?" My heart is thumping hard. I don't like this conversation for some reason.
"Because you asked me to. You couldn't stand her, and asked me to end all ties to her."
That isn't what I was expecting to hear, and I can't imagine telling someone who they can or can't be friends with.
Jesus, what's wrong with this woman? I didn't like her, neither does Kate and her mother, nor Elliot and Mia.
The only noise in the SUV is the heat pouring from the vents and the windshield wipers. Taylor and Sawyer must feel like uncomfortable flies on a wall.
"Why didn't I like her? I can't imagine asking anyone to end a friendship. It seems like everyone else that we know don't like her either. If she's so horrible, why is your mother her friend?" I ask him.
The ultrasound picture is on the seat between us, and I'm fighting the urge to dig my hands into my thighs.
Christian's eyebrows furrow. "Are you okay, Ana?" I hear alarm and concern.
"I'm on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, but I'd still appreciate for you to answer my questions," I whisper.
Christian pauses, and in that instant, Taylor's voice interrupts whatever it was that he was about to say "Sir, Mrs. Jones just alerted Sawyer that Detective Clarke and a Detective McNally, are in the lobby of Escala. They're requesting to see you."
Christian scowls at the back of Taylor's head. "What the fuck do they want?" he asks.
"I don't know, sir. They only said they'd like to see you."
"Fuck."
For the first time, I take in my surroundings. We're turning into the parking garage at Escala. Well, that conversation was cut short. Sighing, I pick up the ultrasound picture and gather my purse.
I'm with Christian; what do the cops want?
"Call the desk and tell them to let the assholes up. Be sure to let Mrs. Jones know their coming. Shit," Christian mutters angrily.
"What do you suppose they're doing here? Maybe they've found Hyde or that awful woman," I say hurriedly.
"I have no idea. Damn cops."
I nearly leap out and over Christian as he holds the door open for me. I've got to know if they've captured one of them. Please, God, please.
"Hang on, baby. Wait. Don't get your hopes up. We'd have already gotten word if the PD had arrested either of them."
"You would have? How?"
"Because we have a few connections in the department," he replies.
The elevator ride to the penthouse seems slower than usual. I catch sight of myself in the mirrors surrounding us and take in how I look like a pile of pale shit. I'll never understand what Christian sees in me.
I see Clarke, and another man before the elevator doors fully open. Both are standing in the middle of the large living room. Clarke, hands in the pockets of his raincoat, is staring out the massive windows that overlook Seattle. The other man, I guess Detective McNally, looks around Christian's age. He's blonde and is quite handsome. He's standing in middle of the living room looking over the huge room.
Gail hurries over and takes my coat and Christian's wet jacket. She leaves the room as fast as she entered it.
Sawyer heads to the security office, but Taylor remains in the room.
"Detective Clarke," Christian almost politely says.
"Miss Steele, Mr. Grey, Mr. Taylor," Clarke begins. "This is Detective Josh McNally; he's also working the Jack Hyde case."
So, this is about my screwed-up mind.
Everyone takes a turn shaking one another's hands.
"Have a seat, please," I tell them.
Christian turns to me. "Baby, go upstairs and rest. I know you must be tired," he whispers to me.
I look at him incredulously. "Excuse me? I'm not going anywhere," I whisper back.
"Anastasia," he continues, but I ignore him and sit on the couch.
I hear him exhale.
"I hope you're feeling better, Miss Steele," Detective Clarke says. His eyes are tight and he appears tense.
"I do, thank you. Have you found either of them," I ask breathlessly.
Clarke's mouth because a thin line.
"We hate to intrude at your home, but this is information I know you'd want to be made aware of immediately."
"It's fine, Clarke, as long as you're here to tell us you've found that bastard," Christian basically growls.
"Clarke opens up a small notebook he's pulled from his jacket pocket. "Late yesterday morning, Jack Hyde withdrew money from a Bank of America ATM in Newcastle, Wyoming. He was only able to get the daily limit the bank allows—" Clarke begins.
"Do you have the son of a bitch?" Christian demands.
Both Clarke and McNally look grim. It's obvious they wish they were anywhere else right now.
I sigh because I know what they're going to say next. Anxiety is bubbling in my blood. I take a few deep breaths like Dr. Powell showed me.
"Unfortunately, we were not made aware of this development until a few hours ago," McNally picks up. "There's more," he continues. "Hyde used his credit card at a Chevron gas station in Wentworth, South Dakota. The camera inside the store showed him buying junk food, and then Hyde gassed up a 2001 black Honda Accord with a stolen Montana license plate. The outside camera caught it and got a great shot of the plate numbers. It was lifted from a '89 Taurus in the small town of Hardin."
Clarke glances at McNally, who nods at him, so, Clarke picks up the story. "He has not been apprehended. After the Accord left the gas pumps, it went out of camera view, and we don't know which direction Hyde went. He was alone," Clarke tells Christian, who looks like he's going to have a stroke.
"Are you telling me a camera at a god damned Chevron in South fucking Dakota caught Jack Hyde driving off into the sunset?" His voice is low, and I'm trembling from fury.
"I wouldn't exactly describe it that way, Mr. Grey, but yes, Hyde left the gas station, and we don't know in which direction; he hasn't used a credit or debit card again, nor has he been spotted since leaving the store," Clarke replies.
"Where'd he jack the car from?" Taylor asks in a gruff and angry voice. I'd forgotten he was in the room. McNally turns and looks at him. "We checked for reports of any stolen 2011 black Honda Accords from here to South Dakota, and there were over eighty, although no one caught sight of the cars being stolen," McNally replies. "We have no way of knowing where he stole the car since we don't have its VIN."
"Mr. Grey, the women who filed charges against Hyde, and you helped temporarily re-locate are still nearby, aren't they? None of them are in the area where Hyde was sighted, or east of South Dakota, are they?" McNally inquires.
Christian shakes his head. Did they really think that he'd move the women without consulting the police, or keep them from testifying against Hyde?
"No, McNally. Those women remain where they've been in hiding. You have their contact information and can easily check in. I still have security watching over each of them."
"Good." McNally's phone vibrates and he sends it to voicemail. "Before either of you ask, our guys working the case have been trying to contact those Hyde knew when he lived in New York. So far, no luck."
"OK, so, the son of a bitch is on the run and appears to be heading east. Now, you're going to tell us that the Seattle police no longer sees him as an imminent threat to Miss Steele, and are pulling their investigation back, right?" Taylor barks.
Both have the decency to look contrite.
"The SPD will continue to look for Jack Hyde, and he's now made it a nationwide manhunt, but yes, the nature of our investigation has changed," answers Clarke.
Detective McNally clears his throat. "I've done a bit of background work on the Leila Williams case, as well. I hate to tell you that those who knew her, report they haven't seen her in nearly a year, and she's never reached out to them," he tells us.
My mind shoots to the what the man said. Does he know the truth about Christian's relationship with Leila Williams? Does he know about all of the other women, too?
Christian's gray eyes are galvanized steel. "Detectives, let's have this discussion tomorrow at my office at GEH. Come around noon," Christian orders.
I've heard him speak this way before, but usually, it's directed at those when there's a problem of a magnitude that I can't fathom. I'm taken aback and now know he's hiding something from me.
"That isn't an option for us, Mr. Grey. All I want to know is if your guys have figured out how Williams got into the hospital. We've looked at every CCTV nearby, and come up empty handed every time. It's like she's a ghost." Clarke's words sound like a car crash.
Williams got into the hospital. What in the hell is he talking about?
I turn to Christian and Taylor, gaping at them.
Surely not.
Christian looks livid and ready to explode, and Taylor's face is as impassive as usual.
"Clarke, now's not a good time," Christian grits through clenched teeth. Clarke and McNally stand, appearing puzzled. Their eyes are darting amongst us. I stand on shaky legs and hold up a hand.
"What do you mean, Detective Clarke? Detective McNally?" I'm barely able to push the words out of my mouth. I've asked a question that I already know the answer to. No one answers me.
It's like a Mexican standoff, and Clarke and McNally seem to have realized something – I know nothing. "When was Leila Williams in a hospital? Which hospital?" I whip around to Christian, pointing a finger at him.
"Harborview. Two weeks ago, wasn't it? Christian?" I've considerably raised my voice.
"Someone had better answer me. I deserve to know."
Christian takes a step towards me, but I take a step back. Panic floats across his face. His eyes are desperate. I tilt my head at him, thinking I might not see him surrounded by more lies, because that's what I see – lies. Lies by omission. Haven't all of his lies been by omission? He reaches for my arm, but I immediately jerk it away.
"Ana, calm down and I'll tell you what happened, all right?"
Those words hit my ears and an ominous feeling begins working its way up my gut, tightening my chest, creating awareness that I can barely breathe. I know what's happening; it doesn't mean that I can stop it from happening. My heart is racing and I'm beginning to sweat.
"Christian, tell me," I plead, my voice is raspy. My palms are clammy. "Please, someone tell me."
"Ana, sit down. Please, sit down and I'll tell you. Baby, you've got to calm down first."
I'm nearly in Christian's lap before I know what's happened. He's pushing my hair off of my sweaty forehead. I try to slow my breathing as my eyes are begging him to tell me what Clarke's and McNally are talking about. I want to know what he's kept from me.
"We didn't tell you because we knew you'd react the very way you are now. You don't need to get worked up, baby. That's why no one told you," he says.
We.
No one.
More than one person.
"Tell me." It sounds more like a gasp than a word.
Christian sighs and curses under his breath. "The day after you were admitted to Harborview two weeks ago, Leila Williams was spotted inside the hospital. We didn't know it was her until she had fled from the unit."
"The unit?"
"Yes. The unit you were on."
It's like a spider is crawling up my naked back. "She made it up to the floor that I was on?"
Clarke and McNally look like they've stepped in horse shit, and Taylor looks like he wants to kill them.
"Yes, she was on the same floor. But she didn't get anywhere near your room, I swear. We weren't alerted until she ran off."
"Who's we?" I ask.
Christian blows out an inhaled breath and pushes his hair away from his eyes. "Me, security, the police. . . and everyone else there that morning," he answers reluctantly.
"Everyone? Who all knows about this? Who's been keeping this from me?" "My family, Ray—" "Kate, right?" I whisper softly.
That's why Kate's been so jumpy, got another CPO, and has been so malleable when it came to her security. She knew all along that Leila fucking Williams got near me and has kept it from me. My best friend.
Everyone I fucking know has been keeping this from me, including my dad.
"Okay, now that I know I can't trust anyone I in my life, you can tell me what happened."
"You can trust—" "
"Oh, the hell I can! We'll discuss trust later. Right now, I want to know what happened." I move away from him.
"Elliot, Kate, and Mia were coming back to your room. They passed the nurses station to get to your room, and as they walked by, they heard an altercation between two nurses." He stops and looks at Taylor helplessly. "When we were standing outside of your room, they told us what happened and it sounded suspicious. Sawyer went to the nurse's station to find out what had occurred and also showed the charge nurse a picture of Leila Williams. She confirmed that it was her."
"What kind of altercation?"
Someone sighs loudly, I don't care to know who it is.
Christian takes my hands. "Ana, Leila was dressed in scrubs. She was pretending to be a nurse, but the charge nurse didn't recognize her and wanted to see some identification. They argued, and when the charge nurse was about to call security, Leila fled. The argument caught Elliot's attention, and he told us what he'd seen."
"She was going to try to get to me by pretending to be a nurse." My words are flat.
Christian shakes his head vehemently. "You had security at your door. They had a list of the staff that could get into your room, and they all know what Williams looks like. Leila Williams wouldn't have ever gotten near you. I'm not sure what she was trying to do. She knew you were flanked by security," he replies.
"She was trying to get our attention, show us that she could get close enough to us to do harm. She was trying to prove a point and it worked. Just like the fire." The words are a squeak from an angry and terrified throat. I look at the black and white grainy picture of my baby and my eyes begin to water. Picking it up, I stand and look at Christian, then at Taylor.
"Detectives, excuse me. Christian, I'm tired and I'm going to go lie down," I tell him quietly. My voice lets him know that I'm not angry. Just disappointed.
"Are you all right?" he asks
I nod.
"I'll join when I can."
I offer him a small smile and make my way into the bedroom where I shut the door. I sit on the edge of the massive bed and lower my head. Ana, what can you do? Can you do anything?
I think about everyone in my life who kept this information from me. I truly understand their need to protect me, but why do they think that they can't be honest with me about things? They had to know that I'd eventually find out. They must think that my mind is so fragile that I can't deal with the truth. Don't they understand that the opposite is true?
Maybe I've lost a bit of time in my life. A very important time in my life, but compared to the years I've walked on this planet, it's actually a very short period of time. Yes, I'm missed those memories and the woman I was becoming, but I was still, and still am, the strong Ana Steele that I'd had to be up until I met the one and only Mr. Grey. I was shy. I wasn't fearful. I could have a hard time making an immediate decision, but I was always able to make it. That Ana had a backbone. That backbone is still inside of my body.
Now, I've managed to end up with two, who I'd called deranged, people in my life. I'm not getting the answers that I should be. I'm lacking the information that I deserve to know. No one can find these two. One looks like he kicked rocks and left Washington. That matches my initial theory about Hyde, the one I'd shared with Christian. That doesn't mean he won't come back, though. But he only tried to assault me, and to my misfortune, I ended up being so hurt that I could have died.
The other person. No, she, with her intelligence, sabotaged Charlie Tango and very nearly killed Christian. Then she turned her attention to me. She lit a match and burned down Kate and I's apartment. Then showed up at the hospital for one reason – to prove a point that she could get close to me. I'm being stalked. A predator has it out for me for some reason. I know that reason is Christian, but it still doesn't make sense. Although, no sociopath makes sense, and there's no doubt that Leila Williams is a sociopath.
Yes, Leila Williams is stalking me. I don't know where she is or how she's managing to keep an eye out for me, but she is. I can almost feel her when I leave the safety of this penthouse high in the sky. What can law enforcement do to locate this woman? What can Taylor and his mass of security guru's do to locate this woman?
Obviously, nothing.
Maybe their plans are too ordinary, to buy the book, as they often say. Maybe the playbook needs to shook up.
I sit with my elbows on my knees, head between my legs, taking deep breaths and concentrating on what could be done. Perhaps what should be done.
Then I think about that backbone that I possess and the man who helped instill it. The man who showed me how to defend myself in every possible situation. Ray taught me what he knows, and Ray knows his shit.
I raise my head. I'm full of quiet determination.
I think of the note that Ray wrote while I was in the hospital two weeks ago; a note in an envelope that he gave to Taylor. A note that I knew I had to destroy, so I ripped it into a dozen's pieces, mixed it with an uneaten salad, and pushed it all down the garbage disposal until they were all gone forever.
My eyes rise to the ceiling. Directly above it is the floor to the guest bedroom that Ray always stays in. I stare at it and realize what's going to happen.
Ana Steele is going to be the woman her dad raised her to be.