by James, E L
She climbs into bed, while I pull the tray on wheels over toward her and lift the cover. One wide-eyed, grateful glance from Ana is all the confirmation I need as she gulps down the orange juice and starts on the oatmeal. I sit on the edge of her bed, taking vicarious pleasure in her enjoyment as she eats. Not only is she ravenous, but there’s some color in her cheeks. She’s on the mend. “What?” she asks, with her mouth full.
“I like to watch you eat. How are you feeling?”
“Better.”
“I’ve never seen you eat like this.”
She looks up, her expression serious. “It’s because I’m pregnant, Christian.”
I snort. “If I knew getting you knocked up was going to make you eat, I might have done it earlier.” My smartass remark is an effort to distract her from a serious conversation that I’m not ready to have.
I don’t know how I feel about this yet.
“Christian Grey!” She drops the spoon in her oatmeal.
“Don’t stop eating.”
“Christian, we need to talk about this.”
“What’s there to say? We’re going to be parents.” I shrug, hoping she’ll change the subject.
Ana’s not impressed. She pushes the tray aside, crawls down the bed, and takes my hands in hers. I sit staring at her, paralyzed. “You’re scared. I get it,” she says gently, pinning me with deep blue eyes. “I am, too. That’s normal.”
I’m aware that I’m holding my breath.
How can I love a child?
I’ve only just learned to love you.
“What kind of father could I possibly be?” I whisper, forcing the words through my tightening throat.
“Oh, Christian.” My name’s almost a sob, and it twists my heart. “One that tries his best. That’s all any of us can do.”
“Ana—I don’t know if I can.”
“Of course you can. You’re loving, you’re fun, you’re strong, you’ll set boundaries. Our child will want for nothing.” Her eyes widen, imploring me.
Ana. It’s just so soon…
Is there room in my heart for someone else?
Is there room in your heart for both of us?
She continues, “Yes, it would have been ideal to have waited. To have longer, just the two of us. But we’ll be three of us, and we’ll all grow up together. We’ll be a family. Our own family. And your child will love you unconditionally, like I do.” Tears pool in her eyes and slowly trickle down her cheeks.
“Oh, Ana.” I gasp while keeping my own tears lodged in my throat. “I thought I’d lost you. Then I thought I’d lost you again. Seeing you lying on the ground, pale and cold and unconscious—it was all my worst fears realized. And now here you are—brave and strong, giving me hope. Loving me…after all that I’ve done.”
“Yes, I do love you, Christian, desperately. I always will.”
Reaching up, I take her head in my hands and gently wipe away her tears with my thumbs. “I love you, too.” I draw her lips to mine and kiss her, beyond grateful that she’s still here and whole. Grateful that she’s mine. “I’ll try to be a good father.”
“You’ll try, and you’ll succeed. And let’s face it: you don’t have much choice in the matter, because Blip and I are not going anywhere.”
“Blip?”
“Blip.”
Blip. “I had the name Junior in my head.”
“Junior it is, then.”
“But I like Blip.” I kiss her again, tentatively teasing her lips—and it’s a match to dry kindling. My reaction immediate. Innate.
No. I pull away. “Much as I’d like to kiss you all day, your breakfast is getting cold.” Ana’s eyes shine the color of a summer sky. She’s amused, I think. “Eat,” I insist.
She shuffles back into bed and I push the tray in front of her. A barrier between us. She starts on the pancakes with enthusiasm. “You know,” she says between mouthfuls, “Blip might be a girl.”
Christ. I run my hand through my hair. “Two women, eh?”
“Do you have a preference?”
“Preference?”
“Boy or girl.”
“Healthy will do.” Jesus. A girl? Who looks like Ana? “Eat,” I snap.
“I’m eating, I’m eating. Jeez, keep your hair on, Grey.”
I move off the bed and take a seat in the armchair beside her, cheered that we’ve finally broached the subject of…Blip.
Blip.
Yeah. I like the name.
I reach for the newspaper.
Shit! Ana is on the front page. “You made the papers again, Mrs. Grey.” Inside, I’m seething. Why can’t they leave us alone? Fucking press.
“Again?”
“The hacks are just rehashing yesterday’s story, but it seems factually accurate. You want to read it?”
She shakes her head. “Read it to me. I’m eating.”
Anything to keep you eating, wife.
I read the article out loud as Ana tucks into her breakfast. She doesn’t comment on what’s been written, but asks me to read more. “I like listening to you.”
Her words warm my soul.
She finishes her breakfast, sits back, and listens as I continue, but we’re interrupted by a knock on the door. My spirits sink when Detective Clark shambles in. “Mr. Grey, Mrs. Grey. Am I interrupting?”
“Yes,” I snap. He’s the last person I want to see.
Clark ignores me, which sets my teeth on edge, the arrogant asshole. “Glad to see you’re awake, Mrs. Grey,” he says. “I need to ask you a few questions about Thursday afternoon. Just routine. Is now a convenient time?”
“Sure,” Ana mumbles, but she looks wary.
“My wife should be resting.”
“I’ll be brief, Mr. Grey. And it means I’ll be out of your hair sooner rather than later.” He has a point. Giving Ana an apologetic look, reluctantly I stand and offer him my chair, then perch on the other side of her bed and take Ana’s hand. I listen quietly as Clark lets my wife tell her side of Hyde’s kidnapping and extortion horror story; the words are at odds with her soft, sweet voice. Occasionally, I tighten my grip on her hand as I rein in my anger, and I’m relieved when it’s over. Ana’s done well to remember so many details.
“That’s great, Mrs. Grey.” Clark seems pleased.
“I wish you’d aimed higher,” I mutter.
“Might have done womankind a service if Mrs. Grey had,” he agrees.
Ana’s puzzled look skims from Clark to me. She doesn’t know what we’re talking about, but I’m not going to explain that right now.
“Thank you, Mrs. Grey. That’s all for now.” Clark shifts in his seat, ready to leave.
“You won’t let him out again, will you?” Ana flinches, visibly at the thought.
“I don’t think he’ll make bail this time, ma’am.”
“Do we know who posted his bail?” I ask.
“No, sir. It was confidential.”
I’ll chase Welch for an update to see if he’s found Hyde’s benefactor. Clark rises to leave just as Dr. Singh and two interns enter the room, and I follow the detective out, taking Ana’s tray with me.
“Good day, Mr. Grey,” Clark says, saluting me, then walks on up the corridor.
Taylor rises from his chair outside Ana’s room and follows me into the nurses’ kitchen, where I deposit the tray. “Sir, I’ll take care of that.”
“Thanks.” I leave him to wash up and return to Ana’s room, where I hang back while Dr. Singh completes her examination.
“You’re good. I think you can go home,” she says, with a pleasant smile to Ana.
Thank God.
“Mrs. Grey, you’ll have to watch for worsening headaches and blurry vision. If that occurs, you must return to the hospital immediately.”
Ana nods, bea
ming, clearly as grateful as I am that she’s being discharged.
“Dr. Singh, can I have a word?”
“Of course.”
We step into the corridor, and I’m relieved that Taylor is still away from his station on the chair outside. “My wife… Um—”
“Yes, Mr. Grey?”
“Her injuries… Will they stop us…”
Dr. Singh frowns.
“Sexual act—”
She interrupts me, finally understanding my gist. “Yes, Mr. Grey, that’s fine.” She smiles and adds in a quieter tone, “Provided your wife is…you know. Willing.”
I give her a broad smile.
“What was all that about?” Ana asks as I close the door.
“Sex!” I give her a wicked grin.
Ana colors. “And?”
“You’re good to go.”
Ana can’t hide her amusement. “I have a headache.” Her teasing smirk makes me doubt if she’s being entirely truthful.
“I know. You’ll be off-limits for a while. I was just checking.”
She frowns, and if I’m interpreting her look correctly, I’d say she’s disappointed. Nurse Nora bustles into the room, and after a haughty glance at me, she removes Ana’s IV.
Ana thanks her and Nora exits. I smile as she leaves. I don’t begrudge her at all; she’s taken good care of my wife. I resolve to make a substantial donation to the hospital staff appreciation fund.
“Shall I take you home?” I turn to Ana.
“I’d like to see Ray first.”
Grey, of course, she wants to see her dad! “Sure.”
“Does he know about the baby?”
“I thought you’d want to be the one to tell him. I haven’t told your mom, either.”
“Thank you.”
“My mom knows. She saw your chart. I told my dad, but no one else. Mom said couples normally wait for twelve weeks or so to be sure.” I shrug. This is her decision.
“I’m not sure I’m ready to tell Ray.”
That’s probably a good idea. “I should warn you, he’s mad as hell. Said I should spank you.”
Ana’s mouth drops open. It’s such a gratifying response, I laugh. “I told him I’d be only too willing to oblige.”
“You didn’t!” Ana gapes at me, but her eyes shine with amusement.
Will this ever get old?
Shocking my wife?
I’m glad I still can.
I wink at her. “Here, Taylor brought you some clean clothes. I’ll help you dress.”
Ray is quietly overjoyed to see his daughter. It shows in his eyes, unmasked for a moment when he sets them on Ana—fear, relief, love, and anger are all reflected in their dark depths. I beat a hasty retreat, knowing he’s going to reprimand Ana as she deserves to be reprimanded. Taylor is waiting outside by her door. “Sir, there are still photographers outside the main entrance.”
“Find a back way out, and have Sawyer meet us there with the car.”
“Will do.” He strides off, and I reach for my phone to call Welch.
“Mr. Grey,” he answers.
“Welch. Any news?”
“Yes. I’m waiting to board my plane. Let me find a quiet corner.” There’s rustling, and I hear a muffled airline departure announcement—but not to Seattle. “Right,” he grunts. “I have uncovered some information about Hyde. I’ll bring that to you. I’d rather you see it in person than have me go through it over the phone.”
“Can’t you tell me now?”
“I’d rather not. It’s a little public here, and this is not a secure line.”
What the hell could it be?
“Also, the police discovered several USB sticks in Hyde’s apartment during their fingertip search. Sex tapes. All of them. With his old assistants. With Morgan. It’s some pretty heavy stuff.”
Fuck. My scalp crawls.
“My guess is he used the footage to buy their silence, and also to blackmail Morgan.” Welch’s gruff voice drives the point home.
I knew about Morgan—but his former assistants?
Thank God I stopped Ana from going to New York with him.
“They’ll probably charge him with that, too,” Welch continues. “But they’re still building their case.”
“I see. Any word on who posted bail yet?’
“Nothing certain. But I’ll get into that when I’m back.”
“What time can I expect you?”
“I’ll be there around five p.m.”
“See you then.” I hang up and wonder what he’s found that connects me to Hyde.
Ana is subdued as we head down to the rear entrance of the hospital. I think she’s been chastened by the reunion with her father, and even though I’m with her dad all the way on this, a very small part of me feels sorry for her. I would not like to be on the receiving end of Raymond Steele’s ire.
Once in the car, Ana calls her mother. “Hi, Mom…” Her voice is husky with controlled emotion; Carla, on the other hand, I can hear through the phone as she sobs and wails.
“Mom!”
Ana doesn’t stand a chance. Her eyes fill, and I reach over to take her hand and give her a supportive squeeze, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. But I tune their conversation out as my thoughts turn to Welch and what he might have discovered. I’m irritated that he didn’t give me a clue over the phone.
Do I even want to know?
I stare out of the window and wonder.
“What’s wrong?” Ana asks, and I realize she’s finished her call with her mom.
“Welch wants to see me.”
“Welch? Why?”
“He’s found something out about that fucker Hyde.” My lips form a snarl around his name. I loathe the man with every fiber of my being. Loathe is not strong enough. Hate is not strong enough. I detest him and everything he’s done. Ana is still looking at me expectantly. “He didn’t want to tell me on the phone.”
“Oh.”
“He’s coming here this afternoon from Detroit.”
“You think he’s found a connection?”
I nod.
“What do you think it is?”
“I have no idea.” It’s frustrating, but I shelve the thought, as right now, I need to concentrate on my wife.
“Glad to be home?” I ask Ana, as we step into the elevator at Escala.
“Yes.” Ana’s reply is pin-drop quiet, and I watch as the blood slowly drains from her face. She raises glazed eyes to me and starts to tremble.
Hell. It’s finally hitting her.
She’s traumatized.
“Hey—” I gather her into my arms. “You’re home. You’re safe.” I kiss her hair, thankful that she smells more like Ana, without the synthetic tang of drugs and disinfectant.
“Oh, Christian.” A sob bubbles up through her lips, and she starts to weep.
“Hush, now.” I cradle her head against my chest, wanting to chase away the hurt and fear. She must have been holding all this emotion inside.
For my benefit?
I hope not.
I hate to see her cry—but I understand the need right now.
Let it all out, baby. I’m here.
When the elevator doors slide open, I lift her into my arms, and she clings to me, sobbing still, each sound a lesion in my heart. I carry her through the foyer, down the corridor, and into our en suite, where I deposit her on the white chair as if she’s made of glass. “Bath?”
Ana shakes her head, then winces.
Shit. Her head aches.
“Shower?”
She nods, tears still streaming down her face. The sight claws at my soul, and I suck in a breath to contain my warring emotions—rage at Hyde, and fury at myself for letting this happen. I switch on the shower, and when I turn back, Ana’s roc
king slowly, keening into her hands. “Hey.” I kneel at her feet and cover each of her hands in mine, easing them away from her tearstained cheeks. I cradle her face, and she blinks away her tears as we gaze into each other’s eyes. “You’re safe. You both are,” I murmur.
Her grief wells in her eyes once more and renders me helpless. “Stop, now. I can’t bear it when you cry.” My voice is hoarse; my words are honest yet woefully inadequate against the tide of her anguish. I wipe her cheeks once more with my thumbs, but it’s a losing battle. Her tears still flow.
“I’m sorry, Christian. Just sorry for everything. For making you worry, for risking everything—for the things I said.”
“Hush, baby, please.” I kiss her forehead. “I’m sorry. It takes two to tango, Ana.” I try a crooked smile to cheer her. “Well, that’s what my mom always says. I said things and did things I’m not proud of.”
My words come back to haunt me.
This is why I like control.
So shit like this doesn’t come along and fuck everything up!
Shame burns like a pyre in my chest. Grey, this is not helping.
“Let’s get you undressed.”
Ana wipes her nose with the back of her hand, and the raw gesture endears her to me even more. I kiss her forehead, because I need her to know that I love her, no matter what she does. Taking her hand, I support her as she staggers to her feet, and quickly undress her, taking particular care as I tug her T-shirt over her head. I guide her to the shower and open the door, where we pause as I strip out of my clothing. When I’m naked, I take her hand again and we both step in.
Beneath the waterfall of steaming water, I hold her hard and tight against me.
I never want to let her go.
She continues to cry, her tears washed away by the cascade flowing over us. I rock her gently from side to side, the rhythm soothing me and, I hope, Ana.
I’m rocking my child, too…inside her.
Whoa. That’s a strange thought.
I kiss her hair, so grateful that she’s back home with me, when I’d feared…
Shit. Don’t go there, Grey.
All of a sudden, I hear a loud sniff, and Ana steps out of my arms. She seems to have stopped crying.
“Better?”
She nods, her eyes clear.
“Good. Let me look at you.”