by James, E L
“And what’s the prognosis?” I ask, trying to mask the distress in my voice.
“Mr. Grey, it’s difficult to say at the moment. It’s possible he could make a complete recovery, but that’s in God’s hands now.”
“How long will you keep him in a coma?”
“That depends on how his brain responds. Usually seventy-two to ninety-six hours.”
“Can I see him?” Ana’s breathless with anxiety.
“Yes, you should be able to see him in about half an hour. He’s been taken to the ICU on the sixth floor.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Dr. Crowe nods a good-bye and leaves us.
“Well, he’s alive,” Ana whispers, trying to sound hopeful, but tears pool in her eyes and spill down her ashen face.
No. Ana, baby. “Sit down,” I tell her, easing her back to the seat.
“Papa,” José says to his father, “I think we should go. You need to rest. We won’t know anything for a while. We can come back this evening, after you’ve rested. That’s okay, isn’t it, Ana?” José turns to Ana.
“Of course,” she responds.
“Are you staying in Portland?” I ask, and José nods. “Do you need a ride home?”
José frowns. “I was going to order a cab.”
“Luke can take you.”
Sawyer stands, while José looks confused.
“Luke Sawyer,” Ana says.
“Oh. Sure. Yeah, we’d appreciate it. Thanks, Christian.”
Ana offers Mr. Rodriguez a careful hug, and a less careful one to José. He whispers in her ear, but I’m close enough to hear. “Stay strong, Ana. He’s a fit and healthy man. The odds are in his favor.”
“I hope so,” she replies, her voice distressingly small. Her words slice through me like a scythe, because there’s nothing I can do to help. She shrugs off José’s pungent jacket and hands it back to him.
Thank God.
“Keep it, if you’re still cold,” he offers.
“No, I’m okay. Thanks,” she says, and I take her hand. “If there’s any change, I’ll let you know right away.”
José gives her a faint smile and wheels his father toward the door that Sawyer props open. Mr. Rodriguez raises his hand, and José stops. “He’ll be in my prayers, Ana.” The older man’s voice cracks. “It’s been so good to reconnect with him after all these years. He’s become a good friend.”
“I know,” Ana says, her voice strained with emotion.
The three of them exit, and we’re finally alone. I caress her cheek. “You’re pale. Come here.” Taking a seat, I gather her onto my lap, folding my arms around her. She burrows into my chest, and I kiss her hair.
We sit.
Together.
Each of us with our own thoughts.
What do I say to comfort her?
I have no idea. I’m helpless and I hate it.
Taking her hand, I offer her what I hope is a reassuring squeeze.
Ray is a strong man. He’ll pull through; he’s got to.
“How was Charlie Tango?” she asks eventually, and I marvel that even in this situation she’s thinking of me. I think my spontaneous grin is answer enough.
My EC135 is back. And what a joy she was to fly. “Oh, she was yar.”
She smiles. “Yar?”
“It’s a line from The Philadelphia Story. Grace’s favorite film.”
“I don’t know it.”
“I think I have it on Blu-Ray at home. We can watch it and make out.” Brushing my lips against her hair, I inhale her fragrance, sweeter now that José’s jacket has left with him. “Can I persuade you to eat something?”
“Not now. I want to see Ray first.”
I don’t push her.
“How were the Taiwanese?” she asks, and I think she’s steering the conversation to stop me from brooding about food.
“Amenable.”
“Amenable how?”
“They let me buy their shipyard for less than the price I was willing to pay.”
“That’s good?”
“Yes. That’s good.”
“But I thought you had a shipyard over here.”
“I do. We’re going to use that to do the fitting-out. Build the hulls in the Far East. It’s cheaper.”
“What about the workforce at the shipyard here?”
Good question, Mrs. Grey.
“We’ll redeploy. We should be able to keep redundancies to a minimum.”
I hope.
I kiss her once more. “Shall we check on Ray?”
Raymond Steele is in the last bed in the ICU ward. It’s a shock to see him out cold and hooked up to a range of high-tech medical equipment. This man intimidates me more than anyone I know, but right now, he looks vulnerable and sick. Real sick. He’s in an induced coma and on a ventilator; his leg is in plaster and his chest is wrapped in a surgical dressing. His modesty’s protected by a thin blanket.
Jesus. Ana is stunned when she sees him and blinks back tears of shock.
Her anguish is hard to witness.
What do I do? What do I say?
I can’t make this better for her.
A nurse is checking his various monitors. Her badge identifies her as KELLIE RN.
“Can I touch him?” Ana asks, and she reaches for Ray’s hand without waiting for a response.
“Yes,” Kellie says kindly. Standing at the end of the bed, I watch as Ana carefully covers Ray’s hand with hers. Abruptly, she sinks into the chair beside the bed, lays her head on his arm, and starts sobbing.
Oh no.
I move quickly to comfort her.
“Oh, Daddy. Please get better,” she pleads quietly. “Please.”
Feeling utterly fucking powerless, I place my hand on her shoulder and clasp it tightly, trying to offer her some reassurance. “All Mr. Steele’s vitals are good,” Kellie says quietly.
“Thank you,” I mutter, because I don’t know what else to say.
“Can he hear me?” Ana asks.
“He’s in a deep sleep. But who knows?”
“Can I sit for a while?”
“Sure thing.” Kellie gives Ana a warm smile.
Ana is where she needs to be right now, and I should make arrangements for us to stay in Portland. There’s no way we’re going home tonight. I squeeze her shoulder once more and she raises her eyes to mine. “I need to make a call.” I drop a kiss on her head. “I’ll be outside. I’ll give you some alone time with your dad.”
From the sixth floor waiting room I call my mother. This time she answers, and I update her on Raymond Steele’s condition.
She takes a deep breath. “It sounds critical. I want to come and see him—”
“Mom. You don’t—”
“No. Christian. I want to. Ana is family. I have to come down and check on him myself. Carrick and I will drive down.”
“I can fly you down.”
“What?”
“My helicopter is here, but Taylor is taking it back to Seattle. Stephan can fly you down here.”
“That sounds good. Let’s do that.”
“Okay. I’ll let Taylor know, and you can liaise with him.”
“I’ll do that. Christian, Ray is in good hands.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
I call Taylor and let him know about my mother.
Then I call Andrea. “Mr. Grey. How’s Mr. Steele?”
“He’s in serious condition. We’ll be here for at least two nights. I’m going to have to do something for Ana’s birthday here, if we do anything at all. Maybe a private dinner, if she’s up to it. I’d like her family and our friends to attend, too. But we should see how Ray does during the night.”
“I can talk to The Heathman and see if they’ll accommodate a pri
vate dinner.”
“Good. Ana needs her mom, so let’s bring her and her husband out as planned. Book rooms for them, for my folks and the rest of our guests, and make provisional arrangements to get them here. My mother will be joining us this evening. Please book her into The Heathman tonight.”
“Will do.”
“Find out José Rodriguez’s cell number. I’d like to invite him, too.”
“I’ll text you.”
“Thanks, Andrea.” I hang up and call Mrs. Jones to confirm that tomorrow’s surprise dinner party at Escala is canceled.
“I hope Mr. Steele makes a swift recovery,” Gail says.
“Yes. I do, too. I’m sorry about tomorrow.”
“It’s no trouble, Mr. Grey. There’ll be another time.”
“There will. Thanks, Gail.” I hang up and return to the ICU. At the nurses’ station I give Kellie my cell number and Ana’s, with instructions to call us if there’s a change in Ray’s condition. It’s time I took my wife for something to eat.
When I return to Ray’s bedside, Ana is talking to him and her tears have ceased. She’s composed and her face shines with her love for the man out cold and prostrate beside her.
It’s an affecting sight.
And I feel I’m intruding.
But I don’t want to go.
Quietly, I take a seat and listen to her soft, sweet voice. She’s asking him to come to Aspen, where I’ll take him fishing. Her words tug at my heart. Ana is my family now, like my mother said, and by extension, so is Ray. I see us side by side, casting flies in the Roaring Fork River or up on Snowmass Lake. Ray taciturn. Me relaxed and equally taciturn.
The two of us sharing a beer later.
“Mr. Rodriguez and José will be welcome, too. It’s such a beautiful house. There’s room for all of you. Please be here to do that, Daddy. Please.”
Okay. Ray, José Senior, José, and me fishing together.
Yes. I could do that.
She turns and notices me.
“Hi,” I murmur.
“Hi.”
“So, I’m going fishing with your dad, Mr. Rodriguez, and José?”
She nods.
“Okay.” I smile in agreement. “Let’s go eat. Let him sleep.” Ana frowns, and I know she doesn’t want to leave her father. “Ana, he’s in a coma. I’ve given our cell numbers to the nurses here. If there’s any change, they’ll call us. We’ll eat, check in to a hotel, rest up, then come back this evening.”
She looks longingly at Ray, then back at me. “Okay,” she capitulates.
Ana stands in the doorway of our suite at The Heathman, surveying the familiar room. She looks shell-shocked.
Or perhaps she’s remembering the first time I brought her here, though that’s doubtful, as she was blind drunk at the time. I place her briefcase beside one of the sofas. “Home away from home,” I murmur.
It was certainly home to me while I was pursuing Miss Steele to be my submissive.
And now here we are.
Husband and wife.
Finally she enters, and stands in the middle of the room, looking lost and forlorn.
Oh, Ana. What can I do? “Do you want a shower? A bath? What do you need, Ana?” I’m desperate to help her in any way I can.
“A bath. I’d like a bath,” she mutters.
“Bath. Good. Yes.” I stride into the en suite, relieved to have a purpose, and turn on the faucets. The water pours in, and I add some sweet-smelling bath oil, which instantly begins to foam. I slip out of my jacket and take off my tie as my phone buzzes. It’s a text from Andrea with José’s mobile number. I’ll deal with that later.
Ana’s in the bedroom, staring at the Nordstrom bags, when I reenter. “I sent Taylor to get some things. Nightwear. You know.” She nods but says nothing, her desolation obvious in her blank look. My heart yearns to take her pain away. “Oh, Ana, I’ve not seen you like this. You’re normally so brave and strong.”
She returns my gaze, mute and helpless.
Slowly, she crosses her arms, hugging herself as if caught in an icy draft, and I can bear it no more. I fold her into my embrace, offering her the warmth of my body. “Baby, he’s alive. His vital signs are good. We just have to be patient.” She shudders, and I don’t know if she’s cold, or if it’s the shock of seeing Ray brought so low. “Come.” Taking her hand, I lead her into the bathroom, slowly undress her, and help her into the bath. She fastens her hair in a gravity-defying bun, slips beneath the foam, and closes her eyes. I take it as my cue to undress and join her. Climbing in behind her, I settle into the hot water and pull her against my front so we’re both lying in the warm, soothing waters, her feet on mine.
As time moves on, Ana relaxes against me.
I let out a sigh of relief and allow myself a moment of respite from the dread that lingers in the pit of my stomach.
I hope to God that Ray will be okay.
Ana will fall apart if he’s not.
And I’m powerless to help.
Idly I kiss her hair, grateful that she can take a moment to unwind as she pops the bubbles in the foam.
“You didn’t get into the bath with Leila, did you? That time you bathed her?” she asks out of the blue.
“Um, no!”
“I thought so. Good.”
Where is this coming from?
Tugging her haphazard topknot of hair, I angle her head so I can see her face. I’m curious. “Why do you ask?”
She shrugs. “Morbid curiosity. I don’t know…seeing her this week.”
Hopefully you’ll never see her again. “I see. Less of the morbid.”
“How long are you going to support her?”
“Until she’s on her feet. I don’t know. Why?”
“Are there others?”
“Others?” I ask.
“Exes who you support.”
“There was one, yes. No longer, though.”
“Oh?”
“She was studying to be a doctor. She’s qualified now and has someone else.”
“Another Dominant?”
“Yes.”
“Leila says you have two of her paintings,” Ana mutters.
“I used to. I didn’t really care for them. They had technical merit, but they were too colorful for me. I think Elliot has them. As we know, he has no taste.”
Ana giggles, and it’s such a wonderful sound that I wrap both arms around her, with a little too much enthusiasm, and the bath water slops over the sides and onto the floor with a satisfying splash.
“That’s better.” I kiss her temple.
“He’s marrying my best friend.”
“Then I’d better shut my mouth.” I smile down at her and am rewarded with her answering smile. “We should eat.”
Ana’s face falls, but I’m not going to take no for an answer. I sit her up and clamber out of the bath, grabbing a robe as I do.
“You soak. I’m going to order some room service.”
Once I’ve ordered some food, I rummage through the shopping bags and change into fresh clothes. Taylor has done well. I like the black jeans and a grey cashmere sweater that he’s chosen. In the living room, I unpack my laptop and fire it up to check e-mails. While I’m scrolling through them, I have an idea.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Drunk Driver. Astoria PD.
Date: September 9 2011 17:34
To: Grey, Carrick
Hi, Dad
Mom has probably told you that Raymond Steele was in an accident. His car was hit by a drunk driver this morning in Astoria. Ray is now in the ICU. Can you use your police department contacts to find out any information about the guy who hit him?
Thanks.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I saunter back toward the bedroom and lean against the door frame, watching Ana search through the Nordstrom bags.
“Apart from harassing me at Clayton’s, have you ever actually gone into a store and just bought stuff?” she asks.
“Harassing you?” I amble over to her, trying to hide my amusement.
She half smiles. “Yes. Harassing me.”
“You were flustered, if I recall. And that young boy was all over you. What was his name?”
“Paul.”
“One of your many admirers.”
She rolls her eyes, and I cannot help my smile. I plant a quick kiss on her lips. “There’s my girl.” I knew she couldn’t be far away. “Get dressed. I don’t want you getting cold again.”
Ana is not seduced by the food I ordered. She eats two fries and half a crab cake, but that’s all. Sighing in disappointment, I watch her leave the table and head back into the bedroom. I know I can’t force her to eat, but it worries me when she doesn’t. While I debate what to do, I text José to invite him and his father to Ana’s surprise birthday dinner if—and it’s a big if—it goes ahead tomorrow and if José Senior is up for it, too.
At my laptop I check e-mails. There’s one from Carrick.
From: Grey, Carrick
Subject: Drunk Driver. Astoria PD.
Date: September 9 2011 17:42
To: Christian Grey.
Will do. Your mother should be in Portland now.
Dad.
Carrick Grey, Partner
Grey, Krueger, Davis, and Holt LLP
This is good news. My mom should be with Ray by the time we’re back at the hospital.
When Ana returns to the living room, she’s wearing a light blue hooded sweatshirt, chucks, and jeans. “Ready,” she murmurs. Maybe it’s because she’s sad and anxious, and her face is pale, but she looks younger.
But then, she’s still only twenty-one.
“You look so young—and to think you’ll be a whole year older tomorrow,” I murmur.
Her sad smile tears me in two. “I don’t feel much like celebrating. Can we go see Ray now?”
“Sure. I wish you’d eat something. You barely touched your food.”
“Christian, please. I’m just not hungry. Maybe after we’ve seen Ray. I want to wish him good night.”
José is leaving the ICU as we arrive. “Ana, Christian, hi.”
“Where’s your dad?” Ana asks.
