Chapter 19

Ana

I have a headache.

I rub my temples as I stare at my computer. I'm pretty sure I've reread the same sentence in Elise's book fifty times. And don't get me wrong, it's a really good book. It should be a page turner. It should be a pleasure to edit, because I really don't have to change very much. It's me, hi, I'm the problem.

It's been a couple of days since Christian very casually brought up the idea of… holy matrimony. Clearly, I'm handling it so well. There I was, blissfully eating dinner with my ridiculously hot and ridiculously wonderful live-in boyfriend, a situation that I have just started to get used to the idea of, when this grenade of a conversation hits. It's pretty much the only thing I don't want to talk about with Christian. Why? Because I can't. I simply cannot talk about that casually with him. I don't have it in me.

I'm in way too deep to be all "oh, tee-hee, what a funny idea, I've never even thought about it!" That is a lie. What is true is that I shouldn't be thinking about it. I'm not supposed to be thinking about it. It goes against all common sense and convention for someone like me to want to marry someone like him, especially so soon. And yet my daydreams, and sometimes regular dreams, come unbidden.

I should be grateful for the moment I'm in with him. We have a beautiful life together, and it's only the beginning. So why is my mind going further down the road? A lot further down the road?

Because you're being ridiculous! Okay, this must be about the maid of honor gig. Weddings are just far too on my mind right now. It's on his mind, too, which I'm quite sure is the only reason he brought it up. He was just making conversation. So, I'm trying to reground myself with that knowledge, and remind myself that I know nothing about being a wife. My only example of it was my mother, and we all know how that went. Now, granted, that is an extreme example, and not one we're wired to expect, but look at Ray and Marty! They're unmarried and they're fine. They haven't needed a piece of paper to build a life together. I am building a life with Christian, and I can focus on that much better without having to try to figure out how to be a good wife.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

At least I have some fresh material for Heather.

I push my chair away from my desk more roughly than is necessary and stand up, shaking out my limbs. Christian is indisposed today for lunch, some meeting. It does nothing for my mood. I grab the lunchbox that Mrs. Jones so generously packed for me and head outside. Maybe some air will help.

Security with Sawyer has relaxed a bit now that we're in Christian's highly guarded building, but I still feel him behind me now that I've left the office suite. Definitely one of the weirder parts of being in Christian's world. I glance upward at him when we're in the elevator. "Sawyer?"

"Yes, Mi— Ana?"

"Have you ever been married?"

His eyebrows raise in surprise for half a second, then his face returns to its usual impassivity. "No, I haven't."

"Ever thought about it?"

He clears his throat. "Here and there." I pause, waiting to see if he'll continue. "Relationships can be difficult with my schedule, ma'am."

My cheeks heat a bit. So, you're harassing the man about his views on marriage while also holding his personal life hostage. "Of course. That makes sense."

I keep my eyes forward, feeling bad that I brought it up. "It's just part of the job. A job I willingly chose and am happy to do," he adds after a moment in a gentler tone.

I smile halfheartedly. "Thanks, Sawyer. I hope you can find a lady friend. If you want a lady, that is," I hastily amend. "Or maybe a man friend, whatever floats your boat…" Now I'm rambling.

He smirks. "Lady friend would be the goal, ma'am."

"Gotcha." The elevator opens before I can put any more of my feet in my mouth.

I park myself on a bench outside the imposing force of a building owned by my imposing force of a man. Sawyer hangs back, giving me the illusion of solitude. I'm picking at the pasta salad Mrs. Jones packed me when a figure plops down next to me with what feels like the speed of sound. "Hey, girl!"

A crumb of cheese rolls off my fork as I startle at the excited voice. "Mia," I all but gasp. "My God, you are everywhere."

She laughs. "I was popping by to see if I could get my grumpy brother to have lunch with me, but he's busy, and then I saw you! I guess that's why you're out here too."

"Yep, just getting some air."

She leans back on the bench and appraises me. "So, did Christian say anything?"

My fork pauses mid-pasta stab. "About what?"

"The dress?" Her tone is incredulous.

"What dress?" My tone is confused.

She sighs. "The wedding dress you tried on that he saw a photo of. Elliot and I have a bet over how long it would take for him to bring up marriage with you after seeing it."

Great. I came out here to escape my thoughts of stewing on marriage, and the human embodiment of them shows up. I love Mia, but she really picks her moments. "Oh… no, not really. Just mentioned Elliot keeps asking him when we're next. Which obviously, we're not," I quickly add.

She smiles and cocks her head. "Is it obvious?" she says coyly. I don't know what to say to that, but she continues. "Leila used to say she was going to end up marrying him. I thought it was all a huge joke meant to gross me out. So weird how that all turned out. I didn't even know she knew him." And with that, I've lost my appetite. Mia seems to notice. "Oh, Jesus, I don't know why I said that. I was just thinking about how I haven't heard a peep from her since that all went down. Not that I would want to. But that's Christian. She messed with someone he loves, and she falls off the face of the earth. Seems like Caleb is also nice and off the grid."

"Yeah, at least he doesn't know my new address," I mutter.

"What?"

"He sent me a letter."

"What?! When?"

I shrug. "Few weeks ago."

"Does Christian know?"

"Yes. I showed it to him. Remember when we had lunch a couple weeks back and I said I wanted to talk to him about something? Well, that was the thing."

"Oh, yeah," she says, grabbing my arm. "Oh, well, that explains all those lawyers."

"What?" I put my container back in the lunchbox. I can't even pretend to eat anymore with how this conversation is going.

"Oh… I'm not sure, really. Something I saw him doing when I was bugging him in his office. I'm sure you could ask him. Hey, I guess I'll see you this weekend!"

"For what?"

"Didn't you hear? My grandparents are having an engagement party for Kate and Elliot at their orchard. Christian didn't say?"

My head is really throbbing now. "Not yet."

"Hell, maybe he doesn't even know. Party planning is more the bride side of things." She checks her phone. "Oh, looks like my friend just got back to me. I'm gonna go meet her downtown. Enjoy your lunch! Good to see you!" She gives me an exuberant side hug, then takes off as quickly as she came. Hurricane Mia has dispersed.

"Sawyer," I call.

He appears with the stealth of an assassin. "Yes?"

"I'm gonna go home. I have a migraine."

I emerge from a brief, dreamless sleep to the feel of a cold hand on my cheek. My eyes blink open to find Christian hunched over me, brows knit together in concern. "Christian? What are you doing here? What time is it?" I start to sit up.

He looks at me incredulously. "Sawyer told me you were sick, Ana. I came home."

I suddenly feel very stupid. I don't know how I didn't account for that in my plan. I should have just bolted home and left Sawyer out of it. "I'm not really sick like that." I flop back down and roll over, putting the pillow over my head. "You should go back. I'm fine."

He lifts up a corner of the pillow. "What kind of sick are you then?" There's a trace of amusement in his voice.

"The kind that just needed a minute. I have a headache."

I feel the weight shift on the bed, and I realize he's gotten up. "Stay there." His tone is serious again.

Like I'm going anywhere. "Christian," I protest, my voice coming out a bit whiny, but I'm guessing he's already gone because he doesn't answer.

I don't know why I'm so exhausted, but I'm half asleep again by the time he comes back. I feel him sit down and I move the pillow. He's holding a tray with some chicken soup, a grilled cheese, and a cup of tea. "Sawyer also told me that you didn't eat."

It's a wonder I can sit up with the way I'm melting inside. Here I am trying to quiet my thoughts, and he shows up just to act like husband material. Could anyone blame me? "You didn't have to," I say meekly. "I sort of ate."

He smiles crookedly at me. "I think we can do better than that. Eat a few bites, then you can take those." He points to the tablets of Advil also laid out on the tray.

I sit up and do as he says, noticing my hunger returning now that Hurricane Mia has passed. "Did Sawyer tell you anything else in his play by play?"

"Perhaps your appetite is returning because my sister isn't jabbering in your ear anymore."

I put my hand over my mouth to stifle the laugh that bubbles up mid-bite of the sandwich. "I love her, but I wasn't ready for her today."

He makes a show of patting my hand. "I know the feeling all too well," he says sardonically. I laugh again, and he joins me.

I'm reminded of the tail end of our conversation, though, and my laugh dissipates. "She said something interesting."

His expression becomes neutral. "Oh?"

"Something about Caleb. And lawyers. And you."

He rolls his eyes. "If she were my employee, she'd be fired. Not a confidential bone in her body."

I sigh. "What did you do? What does this even have to do with us?"

He speaks slowly, assessing my reaction. "All I'm doing is having my lawyers have conversations with the high-profile lawyers in the area, informing them of the nature of the case, and how difficult things could become for them if they take it."

I stare back at him while I process. I don't know what I was expecting, but this seems… almost normal and expected for him, at this point. Maybe I should mind? But I find that I sort of don't. No, it feels like Caleb has a shitload of karma being dished out by Christian Grey heading his way. "Okay."

"Okay?" he repeats.

I shrug. "There's always public defenders."

He blinks a few times, almost in disbelief, and I wonder if I've said something wrong. Then he leans forward and captures my face in his hands, kissing me deeply. "I love you so much," he breathes.

"I love you too, but what is this about?" I laugh in relief.

"You're letting me protect you."

Huh. I guess that is how I feel. Protected. I trust him and I know he's doing this simply because he loves me. My spirits lift for the first time all day, and I smile playfully. "Yes, you can protect me in this way. Can we chill with Sawyer now?"

He smiles and shakes his head, looking down and chuckling. "Well argued, but afraid not, my darling."

"Is there anything else you're forgetting to tell me?" I arch a brow. "Any other secret projects?"

He taps his chin. "No secret projects. But there is a family party this weekend that my mother informed me of today. My grandparents are having a gathering to celebrate Elliot's engagement." He pauses, pursing his lips for a moment like he's had an unpleasant thought, but then his smile returns. "I imagine both our presences will be expected."

"Yes, Mia spilled the beans on that as well. Is this your grandfather who loaned you the money for GEH?"

He nods. "Theo. He's a wonderful man. I owe him a lot."

I smile. "I can't wait to meet him."

"He's heard quite a lot about you over the years." He kisses me again, stroking my cheek. "Finish your food, and then you can keep resting. I'll go work in my office so I don't disturb you."

"I don't feel bad anymore, I could probably work too." Time with Christian, it'll cure all that ails you.

"Your headache is gone?"

"The funk I was in is overall at bay now."

"I think you should take the rest of the day. You can play hooky once, I'm certain the boss won't mind."

"You mean Roach?" I reply innocently.

"He probably won't either."

"When does the boss ever play hooky?"

"Really never before he met you. But it sounds better and better these days."

"Could I persuade you to play hooky with me then, and spend some time in this lovely bed?"

He smiles wickedly. "Doing what?"

"You know, watch a movie, hang out. A little… Netflix and chill."

He arches a brow. "I've heard about this Netflix and chill through Elliot. Well, perhaps it's what the doctor ordered. After you've eaten," he adds in a serious tone.

I mock salute. "Yes, sir."

He looks momentarily confused that I called him that, and I suddenly remember one detail about his BDSM past. I did some reading about it and submissives always called their Dominants "sir." I look down at the soup, avoiding his gaze. He seemingly lets it go, rubbing my arm while I eat.

Maybe someone with Leila's experience would have been better for him. I cough, thrown by the vindictive thought my own subconscious pushes forward. Christian lightly pats my back. "Ana! Jeez, breathe. Are you okay?"

I clear my throat and put the tray aside, all but jumping into his lap. He catches me and I wrap my legs around his waist. "I'm fine. I need you."

God knows if I'll ever be able to be a good wife to him, but I have a feeling he would be a phenomenal husband to anyone. Of course I want it, and maybe I'm the closest now anyone has ever gotten, but it feels so dangerous to hope this close to the sun. I'm not sure I could really be what every part of him needs.

"Well then, Miss Steele," he says, kissing my neck. "Let's have a chill afternoon." And my dark thoughts are shelved, because he's the only thing that matters.

A/N: Not sure if anyone is still reading this, but if you are, I'm sorry it's been so long. I found myself thinking of this story again and I think it's time for the hiatus to end. You deserve an ending, so I'm here to give you one. Even if it takes me a while, I think I will finish all my stories at some point. So if you read Need and you're wondering when that's gonna be back, the answer is someday. For now, here we are!