Dear readers: This is the first half of the final chapter of Love, Interrupted. It was long so I split it up and this seemed like the perfect place to do so. The second half is the longer chapter. Let's call this chapter the "build up." I haven't written an epilogue yet but I am.
As you know from previous chapters, I time jump so I don't have to write about the tedious details of Ana's healing to keep from boring you to death. This time, it's also about Teddy getting well. He was fine, is healthy, and at home. Also, the location where I've set this chapter doesn't exist. It's not a hotel in Seattle. It's a make believe, fairy tale in my head.
Well over a year has passed since that fateful night when a man changed Anastasia's life forever. The night a man evaded Tyler Parson and slipped off in the darkness. What would happen if the pair were allowed another faceoff with that man?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
New Years Eve
~Anastasia~
A man's fist meets my face and I fall. I fall. I fall. I break.
"Everyone already thinks I'm nuts, which is why I'm not interested in going out and proving them right." I step back from the floor to ceiling mirror in my dressing room and frown. There are many things that I'd prefer to do tonight, but attend a New Years Eve party, that's also a costume party, that's also a campaign party for Seattle's mayor - isn't one of them. Yet here I stand, dressed head to toe in all of Sleeping Beauty's pink glory.
Blonde wig to match.
"No one thinks you're nuts, Steele. They know that you're stupid rich and want a big donation. Your mental status means fuck all to them," Kate replies.
Her wig is a black bob that fits her all-white twenties flapper costume. When she puts on her white plumed Venetian mask, she's unrecognizable, although so am I – ours match – mine's gold. I put on the tiara earlier and Teddy screamed when he saw me. Needless to say, I quickly tore everything off and kissed his chubby legs until he realized who I was. Grace had to whisk him out of the room so Kate could put me back together. Carrick isn't supporting this mayoral candidate, so Teddy's Nana and Gramps are on babysitting duty and spending the night. It's their first over night stay here in our new home.
Elliot was right when he told Christian that the house wouldn't be finished by September. It rained so much that it's a miracle that we were able to move in the first week of December. There had already been so many real miracles before then. Teddy didn't suffer a single ill effect from being born at thirty-two weeks and was discharged from the hospital four weeks later. Dr. Marshall didn't have to drill back into my skull to repair the leaking aneurysm that nearly finished me off. This time, she was able to fix my brain by coiling the aneurysm with wires by going through my groin and femoral artery. I was conscious in a few days and on my feet in two weeks.
"I'm not rich. Christian is. I don't control the purse strings. Or the check book, rather check books. Plural. Or accountants. Again, plural. I don't know how a billionaire throws around big money," I reply after taking a large sip of my champagne. "I shop online. From Pottery Barn. Amazon."
Kate holds up her glass of champagne. "The mogul and his pink champagne," she says before throwing it back.
I laugh. "Well, if the mogul saw us drinking Bollinger from anything other than champagne flutes, he'd hide the bottle. You know what a wine snob he is."
"He'd be a hypocrite? He said the two of you drank Bollinger out of tea cups the night we graduated from college."
"Yes, he did. I wish I could remember that," I reply, sighing.
"Stop that," she says, staring at my reflection in the mirror. "We made an oath that I can kick your ass if you're driving yourself insane trying to remember shit. Did we not?"
"We did. We did. I know." I toss back my drink.
"I'm not your mother, Steele. I don't tolerate petulance. Your bad attitude is because you don't want to go to this shindig. If you feel that strongly about it, tell Grey, and don't go."
"You don't want to go? We don't have to go," Christian appears out of nowhere, and Elliot's behind him. Both are in tuxes. Not in their costumes.
As I told Kate, Christian's eyes go straight to the bottle of Bollinger that's on a shelf beside her, then to the glass in her hand. He doesn't say anything, though. I nearly laugh. "Why aren't you two wearing your costumes?" I ask them, ignoring what he said about not attending the party.
Kate finally notices and turns around. "Yeah, what's with the tuxes? Mogul, you're supposed to be a vampire, because you suck, and Elliot, you're supposed to be a cowboy, because I ride you like a bucking bronco. What the fuck?"
I can't help but start laughing so hard that I bend over at the waist. Where in the hell does Kate come up with some of the shit that comes out of her mouth? I'd blame it on Elliot, but she talked like this long before the Grey brothers came knocking into our lives. It's never mattered if she's drunk or sober.
Soon, we're all laughing, including Christian, who takes this as an opportunity to grab his precious bottle of bubbly.
"Kate, you've made my mascara run," I say, grabbing a tissue and dabbing it under my eyelashes.
She reaches out for the box and I toss it to her. "Seriously, why aren't you in costume?" she asks Christian and Elliot.
"We are," they say at the same time.
I'd roll my eyes but I'm too afraid of messing up my eye make-up. "Oh, stop it. Why do I get the feeling you're just being difficult?" I ask them.
Elliot picks up Kate's mask and runs his fingers through the feathers. She yanks it away and glares at him. He grins and points a finger at himself. "I'm in costume. I'm going as a millionaire," he says, trying not to laugh.
I put my hands on my hips and narrow my eyes at my husband who's got a shit eating smile on his too pretty for his own good face. "Don't tell me that you're going as a billionaire." I give him a pointed look.
Christian shrugs, which finally causes Elliot to break out into laughter and he walks out of my dressing room. Kate's not amused and follows him. I'm not amused, and I also want another drink. I hold out my glass and raise an eyebrow. Christian only fills the glass up half way. I take a sip and stare at him.
"Why are you doing this? We've known about this for months. You've had that costume all this time and you haven't complained."
He groans. "We want to be taken seriously, Ana," he says.
I nearly drop my drink. "What? You can't say that you want to be taken seriously in front of your peers, because a large amount of your peers are also going to be in a damn costume. If anything, you're going to stand out."
"To be honest, I'm with you, I don't give a fuck about going. I can send the asshole a check."
"Why are you endorsing this man if you're calling him an asshole?"
"Because he's a politician, Ana, and it's my experience that they're assholes."
I look at my champagne and idly think it matches my pink costume. "Are you at least going to wear your mask?"
Christian bends down and chastely kisses my lips. "Yes." He's grinning like a naughty little boy and I feel like finding Grace and tattling on both of her sons for refusing to wear their costumes.
He looks at his watch. "How much longer until your ready? It's nearly time to leave."
"Give me a few minutes and I'll be down. Did you tell Teddy goodnight?"
Christian shakes his head. "No. He's already asleep," he replies.
I pout. "Now I feel bad. This is the first time we've left him at night."
"He's fine, baby. Mom was reading him a story and he fell asleep. Don't worry. They know how the baby monitor in their room works…Mom is also a pediatrician." He laughs.
I shoo him out of my dressing room, pin the tiara to my blonde wig, down the rest of the Bollinger and pull on my long, black coat. Why do I have a feeling this is going to be a long night?
The bottom step is where I realize that I have a buzz. I also know that this fact shouldn't be known by my husband. So far, since he's in deep discussion with his father and Elliot, he hasn't noticed. Kate has, though, and is grinning like a cat playing with a canary. If she purposely outs me, like she's done when she's tipsy as well, I'll choke her.
"Jason, have you heard from Luke? Has his father improved?" Carrick asks. He's wearing a pair of gray sweats and a Harvard sweatshirt. His glasses are pushed on top of his graying brown hair.
I watch Kate's ears perk up and we both turn around. Sawyer's been in Texas for over a week because his father had a heart attack. I'd asked Taylor how Sawyer's father was doing this morning and he told me that he was improving.
"I have, sir. Sawyer checked in last night. His father's out of ICU and in a step-down unit," Taylor answers Carrick. He sounds and looks as formal as he does when he addresses Christian. I squint at him and take in his attire. Just like the rest of his detail, he's in a expensive black suit, white shirt, and expensive black shoes. I wouldn't even want to know how much their ties cost.
Taylor's blonde buzz cut sets off a pair of bright blue eyes that shine from confidence. Perhaps they threaten from confidence. He's so tall that I have to stand across the room and crane my neck up just to see his eyes. Standing next to Jason Taylor isn't intimidating. It's comforting. I've often wondered how he wants to be perceived, or if he cares at all. He isn't a man who acts like he really gives a fuck.
"That's great news. Grace will be glad to hear it. She was worried," Carrick replies.
"I've been worried, too," Kate starts. "I feel bad for not remembering to ask." She looks sincere. Kate flirts with all of the guys shamelessly, even in front of Elliot, but everyone knows she's kidding. After Kate had to have a full detail because of Leila Williams, they quickly became like her brothers.
"Jason, dish out the babysitting orders so we can get this shit show on the road," Elliot says to Taylor. He isn't formal to the security detail like Christian. He calls them by their given names and jokes around with them. Honestly, everyone treats them the way Elliot does – behind Christian's back.
I look at Christian, who's glaring at Elliot, who's looking at Taylor with a grin on his face. Taylor is his usual stoic and impassive self, and is staring at his boss.
Sighing, I lean on the wall and hope my wig doesn't fall off. I want to hear the babysitting orders, too. Well, I already know the handsome man who has my assignment. I peer across the foyer and find him staring at me reproachfully. Already? What have I done? Parson must be able to tell that I have a buzz. I thought that Christian was the only person who thought he was my dad. Wrong. If he can tell I had one too many sips of Bollinger, he'd better not tell Mr. Bossy, who signs his paychecks or I'll make his job so hard he'll wish he was Mia Grey's CPO.
I smile at him.
He shakes his head at me.
Shit.
The Grey brothers glare off must end because Taylor finally begins to talk. And when Taylor talks, everyone shuts up and listens. Even Kate.
I shuffle in my black Louboutin pumps and count the security detail in the living room. My head's dizzy so I count again. There's four of us and I have four. But Sawyer's gone, so I'll have three. Kate had four, but now has two. There's one on Elliot and Taylor's on Christian, but sixteen are standing around us? No, that's not right. I tilt my head and look at Parson, hoping he can read my mind and will tell me. All I get is an impassive expression. Now, Taylor's reading from his little notebook, and so far, he's just telling Christian and Carrick about the detail that's covering the house tonight. I really wish that they'd hurry up. This costume, along with this coat, is making me hot. I don't even want to imagine how hot it's going to be inside this event.
"Reynolds is here? So, you just have Ryan and Parson on Mrs. Grey? No one else?" Christian asks Taylor.
Now they've got my attention. Only two? No way. Christian won't allow that. My eyes scan the room again. No one else has ever been on my detail. Taylor also wouldn't throw anyone new on it tonight.
"Correct, Mr. Grey. I can go over the reasons I've put together this detail to cover the house privately if you wish," Taylor replies, shoulders back, meeting Christian's eyes.
OK, Taylor, I understand. Good grief, Grey. He's doing it because of Teddy. All of the guys that are staying here were kick ass military, or killer assassins, or some other scary shit. Teddy being home alone with his grandparents is a high risk, not us. We're just going to some stupid costume party where no one is going to know who we are, for God's sake. This wig is really beginning to itch. Hell, my entire body is beginning to itch. Jesus, Christian, get the point. I'm two seconds from just walking out the door and wobbling to the SUV.
"Bro, think about it," Elliot says, the voice of reason.
Thank God.
"Fine. Who's on Miss Kavanagh?" Christian asks.
"Oh, my God! Kate, mogul, it's Kate," Kate snaps, grabbing the bag her mask is in. "I'm getting in the SUV, and taking Ana with me. You big guys figure your shit out. Jesus."
I stop myself as I'm about to thank her, because I see Parson cross the room and follow us. Somehow, he manages to get in front of us and open the door before we reach it. He's a ninja.
"Thank you," Kate tells him. She hands me the bag in her hand and buttons up her coat. "Weren't you dying of heat stroke under that coat in there?" she asks me. Her green eyes roam my long wool coat.
"Only a little bit. I'm sweating."
Parson opens the back door and helps us inside.
"McHottie, I saw you giving Ana dirty looks. Why are you mad at my bestie?" Kate bats her fake eyelashes at Parson. I think I see the beginnings of a small grin on his mouth.
"I don't know what you mean, Miss Kavanagh," he replies, his voice is low and rough. He sounds like he's smoked cigarettes his entire thirty years of life, although he denies ever touching one.
Kate growls. "You're as bad as Grey. Call me Kate. Call her Ana. For fucks sake. We are twenty-three-years old. You're only seven years older than me, Tyler." Kate emphasizes his given name.
My head's a bit clearer now that the cold, moist air has hit it, and I'm back to counting. This time I'm counting seats. This sits seven. "Hey," I say much too loudly to Parson once he gets in the front passenger seat. "Am I the only person who has two CPO's?" No, my head's not a bit clearer.
"No, Miss Kavanagh does, too," he replies.
"Fuck me, I told you to call me Kate, and if you don't, I'm going to throw my shoe at your head," she hisses softly, because a mass of men are opening the doors of the vehicle.
Soon the numbers all make sense and I quit trying to be a math whiz with a Bollinger buzz. Christian and Elliot get in back with us. Taylor's driving, and Garrett, one of Kate's usual CPO's, gets in the third-row seat. Ryan, Elliot's CPO, and Kate's second, are in the Q7 that's following us. We're a traveling circus of well-dressed ninjas that carry firearms.
I laugh.
Le Chartier, a hotel that was built in the early twentieth century, is ridiculously large and beautiful. Located in downtown Seattle, it's also ridiculously expensive, and when the elite of Seattle want to see, and be seen, they do it at Le Chartier.
Kate's attended a few parties there, but the closest I've been to the historic hotel was in the Times a few weeks back. The paper ran an article about tonight's event and the campaign's endorsers. I didn't particularly appreciate reading about myself in the newspaper, but I'm slowly learning that things like that are part of the Christian Grey package.
We ride into the city in companionable silence. I've never attended anything like this, and even though I've learned ways to cope with my anxiety, I'm anxious, and looking over at Kate, I can see that she is, too.
We arrive at Le Chartier, and are in a long line of expensive cars. The hotel is lit up like a fireworks display. It's beautiful. As we inch closer, Christian's reminding me of the strategy of exiting the vehicle. Because that's what it is - a strategy. It's like a military operation. Parson gets out and opens our door; Christian gets out and stays on the left side of me. Ryan comes up from the vehicle in the rear and remains behind us. Then, Parson closes the door and stays on the right side of me. After we're out, it's Kate and Elliot's show – then we wait for Taylor.
The press is here since this is a political event. They're getting louder, so I know that we're getting closer to the hotel. I look at Kate. "Coats off and masks on," I tell her.
She makes a face. "Elliot, will you help me?"
He grabs her mask, his brother grabs mine, and we're in disguise. I can't help but look at her and laugh.
"It's a shame that Mia knows what our costumes look like. She'd never guess who we are. Seriously. I wouldn't recognize you," she tells me.
I nod. "That's why I'm laughing." I look at Christian. "Does this wig make you like blondes?" I kid him.
He smiles and tries to kiss me on the nose, however, all of the feathers on my mask are in his way. "Baby, I'd love you regardless," he replies.
Taylor rolls to a stop and Parson is out before one of the valets can open the door.
Flashes start going off and you can hear photographers asking him who's inside the vehicle. I'm surprised they don't recognize him. The local press has snapped pictures of him with members of the Grey family many times. No questions about the SUVs occupants would be asked if Taylor had gotten out. Being Christian Grey's right hand man has made him a local celebrity.
The questions get more persistent and louder.
And then Parson loses his shit.
"Back the fuck up!" he yells. "You! You back the fuck up, now!"
Christian and Elliot laugh.
I hear a door slam from behind us. Ryan comes running from the rear and shoves a photographer away from the SUV.
"You don't get that close, mother fucker!" Ryan yells even louder than Parson.
Christian and Elliot don't laugh.
I look back at Taylor. He's got an index finger in his ear.
"What the fuck was that, Taylor?" Christian demands, doing his best to see what's happening outside, despite the camera flashes.
"Sir, it sounded like someone tried to get too close for comfort and the guys did what they get paid to do," Taylor replies.
Kate's eyes are huge. I really don't want to get out of this SUV.
"That's right, dick head. Who the fuck do you work for? Hey!" Parson screams.
I jump. Kate jumps. Elliot reaches for the door handle, but Christian grabs his arm. He shakes his head no. "Let them handle it."
"I don't like the way that sounded," Elliot mutters.
They both look like Zorro with those black masks around their eyes. I'm still irritated that they didn't wear their costumes. They think photographers are pushy now? Wait until they see the grumpy Grey brothers that wouldn't play dress up.
Parson finally raps his knuckles on the backseat window and Taylor unlocks the doors. Parson throws the door open. Ryan's back is to us.
"It's clear," Parson says, obviously pissed off.
"Did you hit anyone?" Christian asks him.
"No, sir. However, I did forcefully redirect someone. Sir." Parson meets Christian's gaze.
Christian nods, and Elliot swears. "I could have punched someone. That's what could have made this a fun night, bro. You robbed me of a fun night. One punch–"
Elliot's joking is interrupted by the honking of the line of cars behind us. It's been steady since Parson and Ryan went full on Kevin Costner.
"Let's go, let's go, let's go," Taylor orders. "Ladies, eyes down, so the flashes don't blind you. Mr. Grey, wait until I'm with you."
The camera flashes are scorching the moment Christian's foot makes contact with the concrete. He buttons his jacket before helping me out, and I hear people yelling questions at him. They're also yelling at Parson; they want to know why he "roughed" up a photographer. From my limited vantage point, his answer is a high flying and proud middle finger. Shit. Will that get him in trouble with Taylor?
Christian turns, and leans in to help me gather the length of my gown. I have one leg in the SUV, and one leg out, as Kate helps straighten the long drape. Photographers have started taking pictures of my leg and Christian is glowering at them. Now I'm grateful for this mask. I can hide behind the fucking thing. This rich people shit sucks.
I fully step out, and Parson latches onto my side like I'm a paper clip and he's a magnet. It's like suction. I'm closer to him than I am to my husband, and that's fine with Christian.
"Eyes down, Mrs. Grey," Parson whispers.
I lower my head and feel the tiara sitting on top of this hot and itchy blonde wig shift. I'm not sure if I'd be amused or mortified if it fell off right now. I bite back a smile.
The valets have moved the SUVs and Taylor's with Christian.
We finally trudge up the stairs and walk into the lion's den.