Chapter 15

Christian

For the first time in memory, he awoke with no plans for the day. As much as he hoped that Bailey or Nicholls would call, telling him they couldn't operate GEH without him, he knew that was never going to happen. Contrary to Gail's assertion that he would be missed if he perished, Christian knew better.

As low as he felt, his pride wouldn't allow the CPO staff to outdo him. His day began with a long, punishing run, Taylor alongside him, with Sawyer and Reynolds pushing the pace, one ahead of him and one behind. Following the run, they all convened to the gym to lift weights.

After a hot shower, he dabbed arnica gel over the shiner Ana had given him. He couldn't believe he'd actually offered the useless concoction to his subs. It was only marginally effective at reducing the tenderness of the bruise and did little to nothing in reducing discoloration.

"Fuck it," he said, tossing the tube into the trash. He deserved Ana's punishment and the visible evidence of her blows.

After breakfast, he began searching the internet for a new therapist, preferably male. It had recently become clear to him that the people in his life who'd damaged him most were all female, so he felt more comfortable speaking to another male. Eighty percent of the mental health practitioners in Seattle were female, meaning the search would be probably be challenging.

He was hoping to find someone like Flynn. He'd never felt uncomfortable with Flynn's approach or personality; he liked the man. It had been Flynn's constant poking and prodding at his psyche that he hated. As far as Christian was concerned, some memories were better left untouched.

On the internet, he found a clinic called New Beginnings. With its long roster of therapists, he believed he could surely find a replacement for Flynn. The receptionist told him that none of the male therapists were taking new clients. No luck.

Further searching revealed a male therapist in solo practice, but no phone number was available, only an email address. While making mere inquiries, he didn't want to risk anyone identifying him, nor did he want to wait around for an email reply. He decided to concentrate on practices with phone numbers in the hope of receiving direct and immediate responses without revealing his identity.

After sifting through site after site, he found a small clinic on Westlake that appeared to suit his needs. There were eight therapists, three of whom were male. All three specialized in trauma and intimacy, as well as "men's issues." After poring over the website, he decided that any of the three males would be qualified to help him, so he placed a call.

"Clarity Counseling Center," the receptionist answered.

"Hello," he said. "My therapist recently left town and I need someone new. I'd like to make an appointment with one of your male practitioners."

"Very well," she said. "Let me check availability… Hmmm… Dr. Shapiro has an opening on June 28."

"No. That's two months from now. I need something immediate," he said.

"You designated a male. That's the earliest appointment I can find."

"That's unacceptable," he huffed.

"Well, if you're willing to release your misogyny, I can offer you something for tomorrow afternoon at two."

What the hell!

"Misogyny? Please tell me I misunderstood," he growled.

"No misunderstanding," she said.

"Your assumptions of me are out of line. How would you describe a woman who prefers a female gynecologist? Would you label her a misandrist?" He rubbed his temple in frustration.

"What's a misandrist?" She asked.

Fucking idiot.

"Never mind," he said, closing the call.

His search had turned into a bust.

With nothing to lose, he called Flynn's office. If he had to leave a message begging the man to take him back, so be it.

It was a nice surprise when Flynn's receptionist answered.

"Hello, Janet," he said. "This is Christian Grey. How are you?"

"Very well. And you?" The chirpy manner of Janet's response made him think she must not follow the local news.

"I've been better," he said. "I know John is in England making funeral arrangements for his mother. Do you have any idea when he plans to return?"

"He called me not an hour ago to let me know his return flight is the evening of May 6," she said. "He'll be back in the office the next day. I'm working half days while he's gone. I've just popped in to check messages and reschedule some of his appointments. What can I do for you?"

"I'm so glad I caught you," he said. "Would it be possible to schedule me for the seventh?"

"Let me see… Oh, look at that. There's an opening for eight that morning and another for three that afternoon."

"I'll take the eight o'clock slot," he said. "Thank you, Janet."

"You're welcome. Have a wonderful day," she said.

Flynn would no doubt be furious that he'd done an end-around and gotten an appointment through his unwitting assistant. Christian would deal with that when the time came.

His phone had been blowing up with unfamiliar numbers and it annoyed him that he had to constantly block callers and delete messages. The media trolls were on a mission.

It was a nice surprise when he received a text from his sister.

Mia: You haven't returned our calls, so El and I have invited ourselves to dinner at your place. Expect us at six. I'll bring strawberry cheesecake.

Christian: Fine. See you at six with a cheesecake. I'll inform Gail.

He wanted to be alone, left to wallow in the misery of his own making, but he felt helpless to argue with his sister.

It seemed his family was out to pester him, because his father also texted.

Carrick: Good news from the DA's office. Based on the paternity test and custody agreement docs, charges have been lowered from Kidnapping to Second Degree Custodial Interference.

Christian: Thank you. That is good news.

Carrick: Meeting for you with Sam is set up for noon at your place. Sam and I agree new PR statement should go out ASAP.

Christian: Okay. Noon.

It was excellent news. He had no idea what the typical sentence was for custodial interference, but it had to be less than ten years in prison. With the charges having been reduced, he understood why his father and Sam would want to update the press.

It was already half past eleven. He needed to let Taylor and Gail know about his afternoon and evening visitors.

He found them in the kitchen, chatting amiably with Reynolds and a fourth person: Katherine Kavanagh. Each appeared to be sipping iced tea.

"Oh, hello Christian. Good to see you," Kavanagh said.

"What brings you here?" He asked, getting straight to the point.

"Carrick invited me to your PR meeting. I came a bit early, hoping to speak to Mrs. Jones. I also wanted to have a word with you before the meeting."

"I see," he said, addressing Kavanagh. "If you and Gail are finished visiting, I have time for you now. The reason I came in here is to inform all of you about the PR meeting to commence in a few minutes. Also, this evening at six, I'm expecting Mia and Elliot for dinner," he said.

Kavanagh seemed to perk up at the mention of his siblings. He wondered about the status of her relationship with his brother.

"How about beef short ribs for dinner?" Gail asked.

"Whatever you prepare will be wonderful," he said.

"I'll get on it right away," Gail said with a smile. She whispered pleasantries to Kavanagh, then turned away to busy herself with chores.

"Excuse us," Taylor said, taking Reynolds with him.

Left with Katherine Kavanagh, he had no choice but to entertain her until Sam's arrival. She followed him to the living room.

"Mind if I check out your view?" She asked, dropping her large tote onto the seat of a leather club chair. "I realize this is my second time to visit your place, but I didn't get to appreciate it much the first time."

"Witnessing my arrest pretty much trumped the view. Is that it?" He didn't appreciate whatever negative association she was trying to make.

"It certainly wasn't the best day," she said, walking to the bank of windows that faced the Space Needle. "Wow. The quintessentially perfect Seattle view. You could live anywhere. Was it this view that made you choose Escala?"

"The view, the proximity to GEH," he said. "I was busy and didn't have time to look for a place. A friend found it and thought it was perfect for me."

"That's one highly trusted friend. Mrs. Lincoln?" Hands on hips, Kavanagh took a challenging tone.

"Yes. She was very helpful during the early days when I was starting up GEH. She chose well."

"Ana never mentioned this place. Did you bring her here?" Kavanagh moved away from the window, studying the paintings on the adjacent wall.

"Of course," he said, wondering where the conversation was going.

"If you eventually get unsupervised visitation, will you continue to live here?" Her questions felt like an interrogation.

"Sure. Why not?"

"Hmmm," she said. Narrowing her eyes, she pushed her hair back, away from her face.

"What the hell does that mean?" He wondered what was going through Kavanagh's judgy brain.

"Just wondering," she said. "This place isn't very child-friendly. That winding staircase is open, very difficult and dangerous for a toddler to traverse. Your balconies look low and there are big gaps at the bottom. A child could easily fall."

"I don't know what you're trying to do, but stop. How Ana and I raise our child is none of your business."

"I'm an interested and invested party, simply sharing my thoughts. Where will Kit play? Don't you want him to have a proper outdoor space? And don't get me started on the elevator. Years ago one of Dad's colleagues wasn't attentive and fell to his death through an open elevator shaft. You're on the thirtieth floor. I don't think I would trust my young child to live with an elevator. But I guess when Mrs. Lincoln selected your apartment, she never banked on you having progeny, did she?"

"You're speaking out of turn," he huffed, pulling at his hair. He hated the pictures she had put in his head.

"Ana believes in you. She wants you to succeed as a father. And, believe it or not, I have my own reasons for wanting you to be a successful, responsible parent. A fresh start with Kit's needs in mind might go a long way in helping you embrace fatherhood."

"Why would you care whether or not I'm successful?" He didn't trust anyone, least of all Katherine Kavanagh.

"It's not complicated. Ana is my dearest friend. Eventually, she'll find a nice man to settle down with and have more babies. She can find a father figure for Kit, but she doesn't want him to ever feel he wasn't loved by you, his birth father. That would obviously be very damaging to Kit. I also care very much for Elliot's happiness. I know how important family is to him."

Kit getting seriously injured or being raised by another man. No. Neither of those things can happen.

Kavanagh's tormenting words were too much. He plopped down on the sofa, head in hands.

"Are you okay?" She asked, sitting across from him on an ottoman. "Would you like a glass of water?"

"Were you really invited to the PR meeting? Dad never mentioned you. I think you came here just to give me shit."

"You're way too easy to wind up," she said. "The reason for my presence should be obvious. I have connections that your PR department needs. But I'm not here for your convenience. I'm here to support Ana. When Kit gets older and begins plowing through the internet, she doesn't want him to come away with a bad impression of you. I'm here to represent Kit's interests."

"Damn it all to hell," he said. "I'm his father. I can represent his interests."

"In time you will. But right now, you're struggling. Have the grace to accept help. I remember how stunned Ana was when she finally realized she was pregnant. You're going through something similar now. As soon as Ana got over her shock and focused on her child's needs, she found purpose and strength. You can do the same."

They sat in silence for a moment. He wanted to be angry with Kavanagh, but he knew she was looking after Ana, and that was a good thing.

"To you, it probably feels like I'm being a meddlesome bitch," she said. "In the meeting, you might hear me say some things you don't like, and I need you to understand that I'm looking long-term toward what's best for you and your new little family."

New little family.

He hadn't thought of Ana and Kit that way. Why had the concept never occurred to him? Kavanagh was right. He had his own family now.

"Make yourself at home," he said, jumping to his feet. "I have a couple of calls to make. I'll only be a minute."

"Sure," she frowned, clearly confused by his abrupt departure.

Christian strode quickly to his study. He shut the door behind him, leaned against it, and recalled the moment two days earlier when he had sat with Ana and Kit while waiting for his lab appointment. He'd wished they could be a family, but didn't know how that could ever happen. But according to Kavanagh it had happened; he would always be Kit's father. For better or worse, he and Ana would be bound to each other forever simply because they shared Kit.

It tore up his nerves to hear Kavanagh speak of Ana having more children with some other man. He wondered if Ana was seeing the photographer or Ethan Kavanagh. Maybe Hank Skidmore had followed her back home to Montesano.

Montesano.

He'd dropped the ball when he'd refused to move to Montesano.

Pull yourself together, Grey. You used to be good at fixing things.

There had been a realtor, an older woman, who'd given him her card when they'd been introduced at a symphony fundraiser. He'd scanned her card and added her to his contacts, with the idea that he might one day have her search for a waterfront weekend home where he could keep his boat.

Flipping through his contacts, he found her. Olga Kelly. He wanted to call her that very minute, but remembered Sam would soon arrive.

Upon opening the study door, he could hear raised voices from the living room. As he approached, he recognized Sam's voice.

"It's imperative that the public understand that Miss Steele has been keeping her child from Mr. Grey. It's the truth and it paints Mr. Grey in a sympathetic light. I'm the PR pro here," Sam bellowed. "I will not take direction from someone's intern."

"You will not blame my friend for something that is completely Grey's fault. If you criticize her, I will make you very sorry," Kavanagh argued, matching Sam for tone and volume. "Right now I believe it's best to say as little as possible."

"Listen to me," Sam barked. "I'm the person tasked with managing Mr. Grey's image, a job more difficult than you can possibly imagine. He's never allowed me to highlight his philanthropic activities, so the public perception is that of a cold, calculating finance bro. He's one of the richest people on the planet, which automatically makes the public hate him. And now that he's been charged with a felony, for which he's obviously guilty, some social media sites have unfairly labeled him the worst kind of child abuser. So if there are extenuating circumstances, like Miss Steele's behavior, I will take advantage and inform the public."

Overhearing the exchange, Christian knew Sam needed to go. He'd never been a good fit for GEH. This was neither the time or the place for firing him, but it would be taken care of soon enough.

"I can help you take charge of the narrative," Kavanagh replied, lowering her voice. "But there is no version of this story in which Ana deserves public blame. Let's take a deep breath and start over."

Christian stepped forward and revealed himself.

"She's right," he interjected. "Say as little as possible in this press release and keep everything positive. No mention of Miss Steele. If you say too much, you could jeopardize my legal case. We'll worry about my image rehab at a later date."

Kavanagh mouthed the words 'thank you' to him.

Sam's shoulders slumped in resignation and he began typing on his laptop.

"How about something like this?" Sam asked, then read the statement aloud.

The King County District Attorney has announced that charges against Christian Grey, CEO of Grey Enterprises & Holdings, have been lowered from Kidnapping to Second Degree Custodial Interference.

Mr. Grey looks forward to an expedient disposition of the case, so that he may enjoy time with his infant son.

"Seems okay," Christian said. "What do you think, Miss Kavanagh?"

"It's fine," she said. "And it's the only statement you should release until the sentencing hearing. Of course, once the case is settled, you'll want to issue a fresh release."

Sam opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it.

"Agreed. Publish this for immediate release," Christian said. "And Sam, please work with Miss Kavanagh. No press releases without consulting with her. And it goes without saying, I have final approval. That's all for now."

"Very well, sir," Sam said, then hotfooted to the elevator.

Kate gathered up her work bag and flung it over one shoulder.

"Could you do me a favor?" He asked. "I know you speak to Ana often. Please tell her I said hello and that I'm looking forward to spending time with Kit, and with her, too, of course."

"Oh, that's right. The No Contact Order… Sure. I'm happy to pass along the message. I have my own favor to ask. Would you please tell Elliot hello for me, let him know I asked about him?"

"Of course." Christian could see Kavanagh still had it bad for his brother. He never understood what happened between those two. "Thanks for your help with Sam."

"You're welcome… For the record, I hope we can be friends. You're really not so terrible," she said with a tight grin.

He'd been correct in his assertion that the real estate pickings were slim in Montesano. An internet search yielded only one home listing that piqued his interest and it was less than ideal. In his eyes, the house was an unholy mess, but it did have one outstanding feature. It sat on a 31-acre lot overlooking the Chehalis River. The asking price for this riverfront property was only $750,000.

It would take months to build a new house, so getting Elliot to remodel the existing one was probably the way to go. He'd also need quarters to house Gail and security personnel. He didn't know how it would work, he only knew that it must work.

Holding his finger over his phone, he took a deep breath before pressing Olga Kelly's number. He felt proud of himself for making baby steps toward becoming a family man.

"Olga Kelly." Her delivery was crisp and professional.

"Christian Grey here. We met last year at a benefit luncheon. How have you been?"

She was silent for a beat.

Probably trying to place me and then realizing I'm the louche who kidnapped a baby.

"Very well, Mr. Grey. And you?"

"I've been better. I'm calling about a couple of purchases I'd like to make. I'm hoping you can help me."

"I'd be more than happy to help you. What are you looking for?"

"There's a particular place in Montesano that has piqued my interest. I have the MLM number if you'd like to take it down."

"Of course," she said. He read off the listing number and gave her the address. He knew that once she saw the low purchase price, she'd be disappointed in her commission.

"The house is nothing worth saving. I'm interested in the acreage. I know the Chehalis is subject to frequent flooding. Before I make an offer, I'd like to know the property's history, particularly with regard to flooding, as well as any use restrictions on the property and information on the neighbors. If everything checks out, I'd like to proceed as quickly as possible."

"I'll have my assistant get right on that for you. You mentioned a couple of purchases. Is there another property that caught your eye?"

"Actually, yes. It's one of your listings. The lakefront four-bedroom on Evergreen Point, asking price thirty million."

"You have impeccable taste. It's magnificent, with park-like grounds. I also have another listing on Evergreen Point. Would you like to see both?"

"Is the other property the one that shares a dock with the neighbor?"

"Yes," she said, probably knowing what his reaction would be.

Fuck that.

"I don't share well, so I'm not interested in seeing that one. However, I would like to see the other as soon as possible. I'm free all afternoon."

"Excellent. The property has generated quite a bit of interest. It won't be on the market long. Can you meet me at the property in an hour?"

Arrangements were made to view the house. He wanted Taylor along so a security assessment could be made.

As soon as he'd come across the photos of the Medina listing, he'd fallen in love with the waterfront setting. The lot was almost three acres, quite large for the area.

As he toured the house, he thought of Ana. It seemed like a dwelling she would appreciate. It had a storybook charm and he could easily picture it nestled into a Cotswolds village.

Tudor-inspired and built in 1925, the house had recently received an update and was move-in ready.

Knowing he had to act quickly, he offered the asking price in cash and requested a quick closing, to which the seller readily agreed. By the end of next week, the house would be his.

He wondered if Ana would like to have a hand in helping him furnish it. He'd begin by asking her to assist with the nursery. If she accepted that challenge, perhaps she'd agree to more input. It was important that she feel comfortable in his home. Having her move in would be ideal, but he knew that was an impossible dream.

There was a guest house on the property that Taylor thought would serve well as a security office. There was work/living space on the bottom floor to house monitors and there were two bedrooms upstairs. Christian intended to offer the bedrooms to Taylor and Gail, at least until he could offer them something more spacious. He would provide living space for his other CPOs offsite.

As for the Montesano listing, research confirmed his suspicion that the property had been affected by flooding, most recently in 2009. The house was built on the highest point of the lot and it was unclear whether or not it had been touched by floodwaters. He decided to hold off on the purchase until he got advice from Elliot.

On the drive back to Escala, he fretted aloud, complaining about the lack of decent housing in Montesano.

"Sir, have you ever considered putting a double-wide on the river?" Taylor asked.

"A trailer?" The idea was preposterous. "Aren't those things flimsy? My life is fucked up enough."

"With all due respect, sir, I believe you've bought into a stereotype. I grew up in a double-wide and enjoyed a wonderful childhood."

Taylor was clearly far better adjusted than he was, so Christian knew he had no room to argue.

"I mean no disrespect," he said. "I just need more room than what a trailer can provide."

"Don't think of them as trailers. Think of them as pre-fab modular homes. You can join them together for more space. You can also get a couple of smaller ones to use as staff housing. Use them until new, more permanent housing is built, then sell them off."

Taylor's suggestion was reasonable.

"I see what you mean. Are they readily available? I want to move to Montesano within the next couple of weeks."

"I'm not sure how quickly a modular home can be delivered. If push comes to shove, you could live in an RV. I purchased two for Miss Steele's CPOs and they were delivered the next day."

"RVs for Miss Steele's CPOs? I hope I'm paying for those. Dad shouldn't bear the cost." He hadn't been informed, so he wondered if his father had taken on the costs.

"The expenses are coming out of the 'special' security fund. You're paying for two high-quality, high-dollar CPOs and two RVs. You're also paying Raymond Steele's utility bills, since the RVs are running on his power and water." Taylor laughed out loud. "Apparently, Miss Steele's old man is a pain in the ass. He's cranky with an opinion about every little thing Prescott and Osbourne do."

If Mr. Steele doesn't like the CPOs, then he must absolutely loathe me, he thought.

"I'm grateful that Ana and Kit are being looked after. Thank you."

"You're welcome. And I'm sure you'll find a place in the Montesano area soon."

In the aftermath of his crime, the shame and embarrassment came in waves. Most everyone treated him differently now, or at least that's how he perceived it.

He felt Gail, Taylor, and the other CPOs were tiptoeing around him, worried about his fragile psyche. And whenever anyone from the general public recognized him, he felt fear and contempt. He remembered the toy store experience with particular discomfort.

Olga Kelly had been very respectful, congratulating him when he told her that he wanted a new home where he could raise his son. Of course, she stood to make quite a commission from his purchase of the Medina house, so she was motivated to treat him with the same deference she would offer any wealthy client.

Because of all this verbal and nonverbal messaging, he'd been apprehensive about his siblings coming for dinner. He hadn't spoken to them directly since his arrest and had no idea what they thought of his poor decisions.

He needn't have been worried, because Elliot and Mia expressed nothing but excitement over the news that they now had a nephew.

"Show me photos," his sister demanded. "Mom and Dad don't have any, but they say Kit looks like you."

"I don't have any photos either," he said. It was a situation he needed to rectify. He was surprised his parents hadn't taken any when they'd gone to lunch with Ana and the baby. "I'll get some next time I see him."

"When will that be?" Mia asked.

"I don't know. Whenever the No Contact Order gets lifted," he said.

Elliot walked around the living room, sniffing the air.

What the hell.

"Did you pass gas again?" Christian asked. "I know you enjoy your own brand."

He expected Elliot to laugh, but instead he frowned in confusion.

"That's not it. It smells like my Katie has been here."

"Ew. I didn't realize she'd left behind an odor." He hadn't smelled a thing during the meeting or since.

"It's her special scent. When I took her to the south of France in September, we stopped in Grasse and together we mixed a custom fragrance for her. Can't you smell it?"

Mia and Christian exchanged looks of bewilderment.

"No," they answered in unison.

"But she was here earlier in the day to help with PR," he explained to Elliot. "Dad set it up. She made a point of asking me to tell you hello."

"She did? That's encouraging," Elliot said. "It's frustrating to smell her and not be able to see her."

"She'll be at Ana's on Saturday," Mia said. "You should come. I know if I've missed her, you must be dying inside."

"I'll think about it," Elliot said. "I miss her." His shoulders dropped in defeat and he flopped down on the sofa next to his sister.

"I bet she would be happy to see you, but I understand you not wanting to be reminded of the breakup." Mia patted Elliot's forearm. "I don't understand why either of you broke up with your girlfriends."

"Kate said things were moving too fast and getting too serious. What's your story?" Elliot asked Christian.

"Incompatibility," he said. "But now we have to learn to be compatible as co-parents. I still can't wrap my head around being someone's dad. It feels… heavy."

"Yeah, but it must also feel good," Elliot said. "I envy you. I can't wait to become a father."

"Wow, El," Mia said. "I had no idea."

Wow indeed, he thought. What the hell has been going with El?

"It's whatever," Elliot said with a shrug. "Thanks to little bro, I get to be the fun uncle."

"And I get to be Auntie Mia. Mom and I are going shopping for the little man tomorrow. I can't wait to dress him up and play with him."

"He's not a doll," Christian said.

"Leave me be and stop trying to steal my joy," she said, scrunching her face into a comical frown. "Now excuse me while I go to the kitchen and fix myself a cocktail. You guys want anything?"

"Surprise us," Elliot said.

Mia gave him a thumbs-up as she left the room.

"I'm glad we're alone," Christian said. "It's not that I want to keep secrets from Mia, but I'm not ready to share the news yet with anyone but you."

"Mum's the word," Elliot said. "What's up?"

"I'm moving. I just bought a house in Medina on Evergreen Point."

Elliot whistled in appreciation.

"Nice," he said. "When's moving day?"

"As soon as possible. I'm putting this place on the market as soon as I clear out my personal items. I'm also considering a place in Montesano, so I can see Kit every day. There's a piece of riverfront land I want, thirty-one acres, but flooding might be an issue. I'd like you to look at the site and think about possible home plans. There's a pre-existing house, but it's crap. I haven't seen the site, only photos."

"If you're concerned with possible flooding, the obvious answer is a stilt home," Elliot said.

"But accessibility would be an issue. No stairs. I have to consider strollers, walkers, and wheelchairs, since Kit and our grandparents will be spending time there. I'd like the place to be a fun getaway with a fishing camp vibe."

"Cool. Text me the deets. I'll check it out and give it some thought."

"You, my brothers, are in for a treat." Mia carried a tray of drinks and food. "I give you my very special old-fashioneds and Gail's world-renowned stuffed mushrooms."

"What's special about these cocktails?" Elliot asked.

"They're special because I made them. Actually, everything I touch is special," Mia said, tipping her chin up in mock haughtiness.

"Does that include Ethan?" Elliot asked, waggling his eyebrows.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Christian asked, alarmed at the thought of Mia getting up close and personal with Ethan Kavanagh.

"Nothing happened," Mia said, glaring at Elliot. "Ethan and I only went out a couple of times. The chemistry just wasn't there. I'm waiting for my soul mate."

"Aren't we all? I thought Kate was the one. I was ready to propose when she broke it off. I still feel broad-sided and bruised."

"I'm sorry," Mia said. "Kate is wonderful. I was really hoping you two would go the distance."

"Me too," Elliot said. He poked Christian's leg with the toe of his boot. "Why did you break up with Ana? She's great."

"I didn't break up with her. She broke up with me."

"Well, no wonder. She has this list… Thirty Things Before Thirty. Number one, top of the list, is to go on a date. Dude, you're an animal. Wouldn't take her out, but took her to bed and popped her cherry. Don't look at me like that. Kate told me Ana had been a virgin with next to zero experience with men."

Just when I was beginning to like Kavanagh, I learn she's been running her mouth.

"Sweet Mary, Mother of God," Mia said. She swallowed hard and slowly shook her head in disappointment. "Christian, you're better than that. And then she went through the pregnancy alone and you scared the crap out of her by taking her baby. What happened to you? What's going on?"

He'd been right to worry about this evening being an uncomfortable situation. It felt as if his siblings had turned against him.

"Do we have to do this? I'm a piece of shit and I'm sorry. Moving forward I'll do better," he said.

"Do better?" Mia folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. "The bar is low. It won't take much. You were worried that Ethan Kavanagh might have had his way with me, which never happened by the way, and all the time you were seeing Ana, you just used her."

He looked to Elliot for backup, but the manwhore had the nerve to agree with their sister.

"She's right, bro. By having Kit, Ana has given up a lot. She's sweet and gorgeous, but unless she meets a man with a lactation fetish or a deep-seated need to raise another man's child, her dating prospects have taken a serious hit. But there you sit, all the time in the world on your hands, money to burn, with women passing you their numbers on the daily."

I'm Kit's father and no man will ever replace me. As for a lactation fetish… Hell no. Ana is mine.

"El makes a good point," Mia said. "Most guys aren't looking to date single moms. After this court case is behind you, it'll be easy for you to move on with life, but not for Ana. Mom told me babies Kit's age nurse every four to five hours, so Ana isn't even getting any sleep."

Yes, Ana's life was difficult right now and it was all his fault. He'd do what he could to make things better, but none of it would be enough. He felt overwhelmed.

"If I'd known you were coming over to gang up on me, I wouldn't have agreed to this dinner," he said.

"We love you and believe in you," Mia said, her tone soft and conciliatory. "I'm just shocked at the nature of your relationship with Ana. I hope you'll be cooperative and kind to her moving forward. I've only met her once, when you brought her to dinner, but she was very nice."

"While dating Kate, I got to know Ana very well. She's a sweetheart. Handle her with care."

He didn't like the way Elliot pointed out that in contrast to Christian, he knew Ana 'very well.' He didn't know Ana had a list or that she wanted to go on a date. His face felt hot with shame.

"I've made a lot of mistakes and I am sorry. If I thought it would do any good, I'd open up a vein," he said.

"Nobody wants that. Just become the man you were meant to be," Elliot said. "That's what I'm trying to do. How about we take this to your media room and watch a movie with our dinner? I'm hungry."

"I think the food is almost ready," Mia said. "While I was fixing our drinks, Gail was mashing potatoes. I'll let her know that we're planning to watch a movie."

As Mia walked away, Elliot jutted his chin in Christian's direction.

"Dude, you're jumpy. Chill the fuck out. Everything will be okay. You just have to keep working toward what you want and you'll end up with all the things you deserve."

"Getting what I deserve is exactly what I don't want," he said. "You and I both know I don't deserve any of the things I have."

"Knock it off with the self-hate," Elliot said. "You and I need to hang out more, so I can relieve you of all your bullshit negativity."

You're way overconfident, El. Even the great wizard Flynn couldn't help me.

"No need for Flynn when I've got you. We should go fishing. Steelheads are legal until the end of the month."

"Legal being your new watchword," Elliot teased. "You're on. We can't do it this weekend, but maybe the next."

"What are you going to do next weekend?" Mia asked.

"Fishing," Christian said. "You're welcome to join us."

"No, thank you." Mia wrinkled her nose. "What movie are we watching? Dinner will be ready in ten."

"I vote for The Hangover. Funny as fuck," Elliot said.

"That's a good one." Christian liked Elliot's pick. He needed something lighthearted and fun.

"I'd prefer Pretty Woman, but I'm okay with The Hangover," Mia said.

"I win." Elliot did a victory dance: gyrating, grinding, getting low.

"That's way too much twerk," Christian said, shaking his head.

It had been a long time since all three siblings had laughed together. By the end of their brother's performance, both Mia and Christian were doubled over, laughing so hard they were gasping for air.

It felt good.

Happy Spring, Gentle Reader!

Thank you for sticking with this story. I'm certainly enjoying your PMs and reviews. Your encouragement buoys me and means the world.

Many thanks to my story consultants, Carol222 and nikkistew2, who are simply the best.

Sending best wishes, Paula