Chapter Four: Too Much Pink

Weddings. Anastasia considered herself at her most cynical when it came to weddings; the parties, the dinners, the shopping, the traveling, the dresses... oh the dresses.

As she stared at herself in the floor length pale pink chiffon dress, she let out an audible sigh. It didn't look bad on her; in fact, it was very flattering with its surplice bodice front and slit up to her mid-thigh. No, the look of it wasn't the problem. The color was the problem and the fact that she would have to wear the strappy heals that were chosen for it, was the problem. That and also, like any other bridesmaid's dress, it would sit in her closet forever after their big day.

"You look beautiful Ana! See? Aren't you glad we got this over with?" Kate said, clapping her hands together. "Also, are you sure you don't mind staying with Christian another night? I need to have a very frank conversation with my mother after the way she acted when we got home last night." She looked nervous, and Anastasia immediately felt bad for making her feel that way.

"I barely saw him, it's fine. And thank you for bringing my things by the way." She saw Kate's look and grasped her friend's shoulder, "It's fine. I promise." Moments later, she looked down at the dress, "But I still don't understand. Pink? You always hated pink."

"I mean, I'd call it more of a dusty rose, but I don't know. I saw the palette one day when Elliot was doing physical therapy and it just stuck with me. Plus, everyone is wearing pink. You, the other bridesmaids, even Christian will have a pink pocket square." Kate laughed until she caught Ana's expression and trailed off. "Okay, well, you look amazing, the dress looks amazing so... my turn!"

"Is anyone else coming?" Anastasia asked as Kate began to help with the zipper on the back as they stepped behind the dressing curtain.

She shimmied out of the dress, quickly putting on her jeans, V-neck shirt and oh so familiar shoes. After feeling like her once again, she shook her head and reminded herself why she was there.

Kate. You're here for Kate.

As if on cue, right before Kate could say anything else, three women came in laughing and giggling with each other. She recognized one of them as Mia Grey, the sister of Christian and Elliot. She hadn't changed much in the years Anastasia hadn't seen her; she was unfamiliar with the other two women.

"You obviously know Mia, but these are my other two bridesmaids, Lily and Denise. I met them both through college. Girls, this is Ana, my very best friend."

After exchanging waves and unfortunately hugs with these people she didn't know, she stepped over to Mia who was giving her a look she couldn't quite place.

"Hi Mia,"

"Ana."

As she began to open her mouth to speak, Mia strode past her and walked toward Kate who was beginning to put on her wedding dress.

What the hell?

"Wow, Kate. You look... you look perfect."

Weddings also always came with waves of emotions that hit when everyone was least expecting it. Watching Kate walk out in front of the mirrors, Anastasia found herself momentarily overwhelmed with emotions at seeing her best friend in a bridal gown. It seemed like only yesterday they were little girls, fawning over the newest issue of some teen magazine.

The dress was beautiful, an A-line dress covered in floral lace accents that started heavily at the straps and plunging neckline, and became less prominent as they came onto the skirt and train.

As Anastasia wiped a tear from her eye that threatened to spill over, she laughed and said, "I expected it to be poofier."

Kate let out a laugh, turning in each direction as the tailor pinned up some final areas and the other women gushed over her.

Six or so years ago ..

Anastasia woke slowly, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and also a stream of sunlight that found its way through the curtains. The smell of coffee was enticing enough for her to continue to open her eyes, but she found herself surprised at what she saw and momentarily had to replay the night in her mind.

Sitting in the armchair, just in front of the window, was Christian Grey, sipping on coffee and reading a newspaper. He sat in only a pair of black boxer briefs, and she suddenly blushed and felt embarrassed about her behavior the night before. It hadn't been the first time it had happened; in fact, this same thing had happened many nights before, a complication in their friendship that they both somehow were able to overlook. Or so she told herself.

She reached over, grabbing her phone to check it, only to find it flooded with text messages from Paul. They ranged anywhere from, 'can we talk about this, please? Did I do something?' to 'Ana, don't do this.' to 'can I please just get my stuff today from your place?'

Of course, she felt guilty, but mostly because she just couldn't bring herself to feel that way about him, or anyone in fact. At least anyone else but the man that sat a few feet from her.

"You're up," he said softly and raised the cup as if asking if she wanted one. She nodded into the pillow and watched as he stood, walking toward a room service table that had been brought in who knows when. "Here, more cream than coffee. Just like you like it."

She sat up in the bed, clutching at the covers as she realized she had never put her clothes back on after their tryst.

"They were still wet when I woke up. I sent them to be cleaned." Christian said, as if he could read her mind. "Here." He threw her over one of his shirts and she quickly pulled it over her chest, as if he hadn't seen her completely naked the night before, or any other time.

The coffee was good, much better than what she could make at home, and she reveled in it for a moment before saying, "So I guess we need to talk, huh."

"Do we? This isn't the first time this has happened... it's been a while though, so I won't lie, you caught me by surprise."

"I'm sorry. I just... I don't even know what to say."

He looked like he wanted to say something but shook his head instead and said, "How are you this morning? Your phone wouldn't stop vibrating."

"I'm okay, I'm not looking forward to this. He'll probably get his things later."

"It'll be okay. I can be there if you want me to?"

She rolled her eyes and got out of the bed, grabbing her panties from the floor, and pulling them on. "I'm not sure bringing another man, who he already was jealous of, to be there while he gets his things is very nice."

Christian stood also, stepping closer to her, and putting an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. "Why was he jealous of me?"

Because he knows how important you are to me, and what you mean to me, is what she wanted to say, but instead shrugged. She could feel him getting closer to her, his body pressing against her as he pulled her closer. As she felt his lips begin to trail over her neck, she slowly shimmied away from him.

"Christian, we can't."

Looking crestfallen, his head dropped, and he turned away to begin grabbing his sweatpants from the ground that he pulled off. Without looking at her he said, "Ana. I'm always here for you, you know that... you're so important to me. But I can't be your boy toy anymore. So, we have to stop this, for real this time. I can't take the heartbreak anymore, okay?"

Her mouth dropped and she stumbled over her words as she tried to figure out how to respond, "Christian, I-"

"It's fine. Your clothes should be here shortly and then you can handle what you have to do. I'm going to shower. We'll go to the beach later, okay? Call me when you're done."

He turned and walked into the bathroom, leaving her alone and stunned..

Present Day

"I literally cannot wait for this wedding."

"I know, it's going to be so much fun."

"Oh, and the rehearsal dinner is on Christian's boat."

"I can't wait to see him in a tux."

The conversation had started while Mia had stepped away to make a call. Anastasia was determined to ask Kate later why Mia was being standoffish to her, but her dress fitting wasn't the appropriate time; she wondered if maybe she should just let it be.

"Ana, have you ever met Elliot's brother Christian? He is quite literally the most beautiful man I've ever seen." The woman named Lily said.

"Lily has been trying to get with him for years."

"Yeah," Anastasia began, "I hear he's... quite the catch."

"Are you guys seriously still talking about my brother?" Mia returned to the area, sitting in the empty chair. "Ana's known him since they were teenagers and I guarantee you she definitely doesn't want to hear you going on and on about him, neither do I."

She wasn't sure if the statement was made in sarcasm or if she was trying to help her, but it was appreciated.

As they began to drone about something else, she was distracted by a pinging of her phone and looked down in surprise to see a text from Christian, the first in years. She felt her heart pounding, mainly because she knew the last text that had been sent wasn't something she could bring herself to read again. Ignoring the urge to scroll to it, she read his message.

C: Mrs. Jones has informed me she'd be making stew tonight. Kate said you'd be staying again. I wasn't sure what your plans were, but there will be some for you.

Anastasia had met Mrs. Jones momentarily before leaving his apartment. She was a lovely woman, kind faced and gentle spoken. Christian had informed her that she was his 'housekeeper, cook and basically handled anything in his home.' Oh, how different their lives were.

A: Will you not be there?

C: If you'd like me to be, I will be. I just might be there a little later. It's been a busy day. Perhaps Mrs. Jones can finally give you that grand tour. I hope dress shopping has been everything you'd ever hope it would be.

She couldn't help it. She laughed and she immediately regretted it as she saw the other women glancing over her shoulder.

Clearing her throat, she continued to type.

A: The dress is pink. That's how it's going. And it's your house, so if you'd like to be there, you can be there.

C: Pink huh? I bet you're loving that.

A: You know it.

The comfortability was suddenly stifling to her, and she cleared her throat audibly before texting him once again.

A: Have a good day at work. I have to go.

Without anyone else there, the apartment was quiet and lonely. Anastasia had already changed into her 'comfy clothes' and wandered into the kitchen, which she had seen quickly before she had left. Mrs. Jones had already left for the day with a note that had heat up instructions for something that smelled wonderful. Ana noticed with surprise also that a bottle of wine sat out, with two glasses. Did she always prepare this much? Whatever, it beats takeout.

Feeling rude for eating before Christian returned home, even though she wasn't actually trying to eat with him, she popped open the bottle and poured herself a small glass of the red wine. Time for that grand tour.

She looked at the liquid, unsure of what she was supposed to do and with a laugh, swirled it a little before sniffing it. What the hell is it supposed to smell like? Whatever. She took a sip and scrunched her face, the bitter dry wine not exactly what she was expecting.

As she began to wander, she quickly realized that the museum like qualities of his foyer and kitchen carried into the rest of the place. There was a living room area, with white couches and a large television above a fireplace and barely any personal touches. The hallways were lined with modern art, and while they were beautiful, they didn't look like they belonged in a home. She could see a room that was slightly open, which she assumed was his bedroom and made a point to stay far away from it. It wasn't until she finally reached a room that he had turned into a library that she finally felt at ease; at least she did, until she saw a small polaroid leaning against a book that she recognized immediately.

Anastasia suddenly felt like the air was leaving the room and immediately went back into the hallway, making her way back to the kitchen. She took a large gulp of the wine, hoping it would in some way rid her of the memories that came flooding to the surface of her mind.

"You're just supposed to sip it, not chug it," a smooth and sultry female voice said from the entrance of the room, causing Anastasia to yell and almost drop the glass.

"AH! Who the hell are you?" She quickly reached into the first drawer she could find and found herself holding... a whisk. Regardless, she held it out, ready to use it however she would need to.

The woman let out a soft laugh. "Who the hell am I? Who the hell are you, standing in my boyfriends' kitchen? Are you the reason Christian hasn't called me back?"

Boyfriend. Her stomach dropped.

"Lady, I don't know who you are, but I was invited here. And Christian didn't inform me anyone else would be here, so it seems you're an intruder."

The woman giggled once again and raised a key into the air, the silver glinting from the kitchen lights. "Intruder? I have a key."

Unsure of what to say, Anastasia took the moment to look over the woman standing there. Her hair was brown, lighter than Ana's, and longer. It was done in soft waves, hanging over her shoulders. Clothes wise, her outfit was simple. She wore a long coat and black boots that reached her knees.

A key, huh? An odd feeling suddenly overcame her; a feeling she'd have to delve into later.

"Okay... well... Christian isn't here. So... you should probably just call him and go."

"No need to call me, I'm right here."

Christian stood behind her, his expression... angry? His hair was tousled, from him running his hands through it throughout the day, she assumed. His grey suit jacket was already unbuttoned, and he was loosening his tie as he stepped into the room.

"Christian!" The mysterious woman said, turning to him and looking overly excited. "I've missed you. We normally have dinner on Tuesdays, you must have forgotten to confirm."

"Leila, I made it very clear last time we spoke that we were taking a break. How did you get in?"

Interjecting, Anastasia said loudly, "She has a key," as she began to walk away, throwing the whisk back in the drawer gulping the disgusting wine as she did so.

Six months prior...

Christian Grey loosened his tie as he sat at the small wooden bar stool. Taylor had advised against the visit to the small local bar and now sat at just a table over, obviously upset regarding the whole situation. Unlike most times though, Christian didn't care.

He ordered a drink and sat staring at the date on his phone that had brought up a reminder for the day. September 10th, Ana's birthday.

Why, even though so much time had passed, was the reminder still on his phone? Why couldn't he bring himself to delete it? Why did it still upset him?

The answer to the last question was easy: because he wasn't over her, still.

"Is this seat taken?"

A sultry voice broke him from his thoughts and before waiting for an answer, she sat next to him. She was dressed up in a black pencil skirt and white blouse. Her brown hair lay over her shoulders, straight as a pin.

"I guess not," Christian said with a small laugh.

"I'm sorry, I just... need a drink."

"Bad day?"

"Full of so many meetings. You?"

"About the same."

"Are you here alone?"

The question felt loaded and dangerous. But as he glanced at the reminder on his phone once again, he suddenly felt overwhelmingly lonely. Even though he shouldn't have, he said, "Yes."

Present Day

Christian was furious. What hadn't Leila understood about their previous conversation?

Immediately, he knew the questions that would have been running through Ana's head and as he watched her walk away, chugging a glass of wine, he felt angrier. What did Leila say to her?

"Why are you here?"

"You haven't called me..." She walked slowly toward him, grasping at the tie that hung lamely around his neck. "I've missed you baby; I thought we had that gala this week."

He tugged away, grimacing at her lack of respect for his boundaries. "Once again, I explained to you I needed space. I thought you understood. But now I think it's time to just pull the plug on this. We're done, okay? About the key, an obvious oversight on my part."

She stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest. "Because of her. What will the press think?"

"No, not because of Ana. And it's because of your idiotic move that I even have to think of that. But I don't care anymore, I really don't."

"That's Ana?"

"Leila, I've been lenient with you, but get. out."

"Can she give you this?" She unbuttoned the coat, letting it slowly fall open. Her taut body was barely covered, the grey lace bra barely holding her breasts in and the matching thong barely visible.

A few weeks ago, he would have been happy to oblige to what she was wanting, but now?

"Leila, this is the last time I'm telling you. GO!"

She jumped at his tone and quickly buttoned her jacket. "When you finally get your shit together Christian, let me know." She tossed the key toward him and with ease he caught it, a grimace on his face. "Hopefully this doesn't bite you in the ass."

Christian watched as she sashayed away and once the door was shut, he quickly texted Taylor, informing him to immediately change the locks. Feeling increasingly frustrated, he grabbed his hair as he entered the kitchen, ignoring the wine left by Mrs. Jones and grabbing a bottle of bourbon that sat with the other bottles of liquor. Popping it open, he grabbed a small glass, filled a portion and immediately downed it.

"So, your girlfriend huh?"

Christian stared at Anastasia who leaned against the kitchen table. She was predictable, already dressed in what she had always called her comfy clothes. She wore a pair of shin length sweatpants and a tank top, with an unzipped hoodie overtop of it. Her brown waves were already pulled up. Even in sweats, he still felt more attracted to her than the woman who was just basically nude in his foyer.

Before saying another word, he poured himself another glass and within a moment, it was gone.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, motioning toward the food that sat on the stove with heat up instructions. Without waiting for her answer, he turned toward the pot, ladling two helpings into the bowls set out. He pushed them into the microwave and pressed start before turning around and leaning against the countertop.

She was watching him, her lips pursed. He was unsure whether it was because of the wine, or because of Leila.

"I have beer you know."

"Mm. Well, I'm already getting used to this." She grimaced once again and then shrugged as she swirled the remaining liquid in the glass.

"Her name is Leila. I met her after a work function. We... were sleeping together."

Anastasia cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably. Moments later the microwave went off and Christian carried the bowls to the table, placing one in front of her with a spoon.

"She started getting... strange," Christian continued as he sat down. "Wanting to be more. I didn't want more. So, I tried ending things, but she was involved in a big deal I was trying to close, and she made it known publicly that we were seeing each other."

"Does that matter?"

"In this particular deal and sometimes in this world I'm in... yes, it does. But honestly, I enjoyed her company for a while. So, I thought I'd give it a shot, and it was... suffocating. So, I told her I needed space."

"She obviously didn't get the hint." Ana said, and then before she could say anything else, she fluttered her eyes closed as she took a bite. "This is so much better than Ramen."

"Mrs. Jones is amazing."

"Continue. About... Leila."

"There's nothing else to say Ana...stasia. Frankly, I didn't expect you to be so interested."

"Call me a glutton for punishment. I think anyone would have questions when a woman wearing nothing under a trench coat comes into your personal space."

Christian coughed on his food, raising his eyebrows. "How did you know she wasn't wearing anything?"

"People don't just dress like that..."

"So..." Christian cleared his throat and took another bite before continuing, "Have you been... dating... anyone?"

She paused, staring at him intently for a moment. "Do you really want to know?"

"Call me a glutton for punishment." He repeated her words.

"I mean... I guess, on and off. It's... complicated and I'm not sure I have the energy to get into it right now."

The clinking of the spoons against their bowls as they ate was the only noise left in the room as they were both left with nothing else to say. Realistically, Christian knew he had no business asking her any questions about her love life, but it still stung. It seemed like twenty minutes had passed before he finally spoke again.

"Were you holding a whisk...?"

She snorted into her glass of wine, the wine bubbling at her face and dripping down her chin. Between the vision of that and the thought of her holding a whisk in self-defense, he couldn't help it - he began to laugh and moments later, she began to laugh with him.