by James, E L
“What I said. I was never going to leave you.”
“Hush, baby, I know.”
“You do?” She pulls away and studies me through her tears.
“I worked it out. Eventually. Honestly, Ana, what were you thinking?”
She places her head on my shoulder. “You took me by surprise. When we spoke at the bank. Thinking I was leaving you. I thought you knew me better. I’ve said to you over and over I would never leave.”
Slowly, I blow out a breath. “But after the appalling way I’ve behaved—” I tighten my arms around her. “I thought for a short time that I’d lost you.”
“No, Christian. Never. I didn’t want you to interfere and put Mia’s life in danger.”
Interfere!
“How did you work it out?” she asks.
I tuck her hair behind her ear. “I’d just touched down in Seattle when the bank called. Last I’d heard, you were ill and going home.”
“So, you were in Portland when Sawyer called you from the car?”
“We were just about to take off. I was worried about you.”
“You were?”
“Of course I was.” I skim her lower lip with my thumb. “I spend my life worrying about you. You know that.”
This earns me a half smile. That’s something. “Jack called me at the office,” she says, her eyes wide once more. “He gave me two hours to get the money.” She shrugs. “I had to leave, and it just seemed the best excuse.”
Fucking Hyde. “And you gave Sawyer the slip. He’s mad at you, as well,” I mutter.
“As well?”
“As well as me.”
She raises her hand, her fingertips once more caressing my face. Closing my eyes, I lean in to her touch, savoring the feel of her fingers skating over my stubble. “Don’t be mad at me. Please,” she whispers.
“I am so mad at you. What you did was monumentally stupid. Bordering on insane.”
“I told you, I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You don’t seem to have any regard for your personal safety. And it’s not just you now.”
But before she or I can say anything further, the door opens and Dr. Bartley strides in. “Good evening, Mrs. Grey. I’m Dr. Bartley.”
I give her a nod and step away so she has room to examine my wife. While she’s doing that, I call Dad to let him know that Ana is awake.
“Oh, that’s great news, son.” He pauses, and I know he’s listening to Grace. “Your mother says to apologize.”
“I’ll do that, Dad.”
“Why? What’s happened?” Carrick sounds confused.
“It’s a long story.”
“Okay. Give Ana our love. We’ll come see her tomorrow.”
I call Carla to give her the good news.
“Thank you, Christian!” she sobs through her tears.
Next, Kavanagh. “Thank God,” Kate says. “And I hope you two have made up.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, though it’s none of her fucking business. “I’ve got to call Ray.”
“Okay,” Kate says. “And tell Ana no more chasing kidnappers.”
“Will do.”
Ray is so relieved, he’s silent for several seconds while he gathers himself. Eventually he says, “I appreciate the call, Christian. Tell Annie I love her.”
“Will do, Ray.”
When I finish my call to my father-in-law, Dr. Bartley is prodding my wife’s ribs. Ana winces. “These are bruised, not cracked or broken. You were very lucky, Mrs. Grey.”
Ana glances at me. “Foolhardy,” I mouth.
I’m still fucking angry with you, Ana.
“I’ll prescribe some painkillers. You’ll need them for this, and for the headache you must have. But all’s looking as it should, Mrs. Grey. I suggest you get some sleep. Depending on how you feel in the morning, we may let you go home. My colleague Dr. Singh will be attending you then.”
“Thank you.”
A loud knock, and Taylor enters carrying a hefty box from the Fairmont Olympic.
“Food?” Dr. Bartley says, surprised.
“Mrs. Grey is hungry,” I inform her. “This is chicken soup.”
“Soup will be fine, just the broth. Nothing heavy.” She looks pointedly at both of us, then exits the room with Nurse Nora.
There’s a wheeled tray in the corner. I maneuver it over to Ana, and Taylor places the box on it. “Welcome back, Mrs. Grey,” he says with a fond smile.
“Hello, Taylor. Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome, ma’am—” He stops, and I glance up at him as I unpack the box. I think he wants to say more. Perhaps to scold Ana? I wouldn’t blame him, but he just smiles at her.
In addition to the thermos with soup, there’s a small basket of bread rolls, a linen napkin, a china bowl, and a silver spoon.
“This is great, Taylor,” Ana says.
“Will that be all?” Taylor asks.
“Yes, thanks,” I say. He can go back to bed.
“Taylor, thank you.”
“Anything else I can get you, Mrs. Grey?”
She looks at me and arches a brow. “Just some clean clothes for Christian.”
Taylor glances at me and smiles. “Yes, ma’am.”
What? I check my shirt. I’ve not spilled anything down it.
But I haven’t washed or shaved for days.
I must look like shit.
“How long have you been wearing that shirt?” Ana asks.
“Since Thursday morning.” I give her an apologetic shrug and Taylor leaves us. “Taylor’s real pissed at you, too,” I add, and unscrew the lid of the thermos to pour the soup into the bowl.
Ana dives in with an eagerness I’ve never seen before. At the first mouthful she closes her eyes as if in ecstasy.
“Good?” I perch on the bed once more.
She nods enthusiastically and takes another spoonful, then pauses to wipe her mouth on a linen napkin. “Tell me what happened—after you realized what was going on.”
“Oh, Ana, it’s good to see you eat.”
“I’m hungry. Tell me.”
I frown, trying to remember the order in which everything happened. “Well, after the bank called, and I thought my world had completely fallen apart—”
Ana stops and gazes at me, looking lost.
“Don’t stop eating, or I’ll stop talking.” I sound far sterner than I intend. She flattens her lips, but continues to eat. “Anyway, shortly after you and I had finished our conversation, Taylor informed me that Hyde had been granted bail. How, I don’t know; I thought we’d managed to thwart any attempts at bail. But that gave me a moment to think about what you’d said, and I knew something was seriously wrong.”
“It was never about the money,” she snaps, suddenly raising her voice. “How could you even think that? It’s never been about your fucking money!”
Whoa! “Mind your language,” I exclaim. “Calm down and eat.”
She glares at me, eyes blazing with anger.
“Ana.”
“That hurt me more than anything, Christian,” she whispers. “Almost as much as you seeing that woman.”
Shit. I close my eyes, as my remorse returns full-blown. “I know.” I sigh. “And I’m sorry. More than you know. Please, eat. While your soup is still hot.” My tone is contrite and gentle. I owe her that.
She picks up her spoon, and l blow out a breath of relief.
“Go on,” Ana encourages me, between bites of soft bread roll.
“We didn’t know Mia was missing. I thought maybe he was blackmailing you or something. I called you back, but you didn’t answer.” I scowl, remembering how impotent I felt. “I left you a message and then called Sawyer. Taylor started tracking your cell. I knew you were at the bank, so we headed straight there.�
�
“I don’t know how Sawyer found me. Was he tracking my cell, too?”
“The Saab is fitted with a tracking device. All our cars are. By the time we got near the bank, you were already on the move, and we followed. Why are you smiling?”
“On some level I knew you’d be stalking me.”
“And that is amusing because?”
“Jack had instructed me to get rid of my cell. So I borrowed Whelan’s cell, and that’s the one I threw away. I put mine into one of the duffel bags so you could track your money.”
I sigh. “Our money, Ana. Eat.”
Once again, I’m amazed by her cool head and quick thinking, but I merely watch as she wipes the last piece of bread around the bowl and pops it into her mouth. “Finished.”
“Good girl.”
There’s a knock on the door and Nurse Nora enters once more, carrying a small paper cup. “Pain relief,” Nora announces, while I pack the detritus from Ana’s meal back into the box from the Olympic.
“Is this okay to take? You know, with the baby?”
“Yes, Mrs. Grey.” She hands Ana the pills and a fresh glass of water. “It’s Tylenol—it’s fine; it won’t affect the baby.”
Ana swallows the tablet, yawns, and blinks sleepily.
“You ought to rest, Mrs. Grey.” Nurse Nora looks pointedly at me.
I nod. Yes. She should.
“You’re going?” Ana exclaims with a look of alarm.
I snort. “If you think for one moment I’m going to let you out of my sight, Mrs. Grey, you are very much mistaken.”
Nora gives me a withering look as she adjusts Ana’s pillows so Ana can lie down. “Good night, Mrs. Grey,” she says, and with one last censorious glance at me she leaves.
“I don’t think Nurse Nora approves of me.” I look down at my wife. Awake. Present. Fed. And my relief is overwhelming, but I’m utterly drained and bone-weary. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so tired in my life.
“You need rest, too, Christian. Go home. You look exhausted.”
“I’m not leaving you. I’ll doze in this armchair.” I can ease up on my vigil for a little while.
She scowls, then smiles as if she’s had a mischievous idea and shifts over. “Sleep with me.”
What! No way! “No. I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t hurt me. Please, Christian.”
“You have an IV.”
“Christian. Please.”
It’s so tempting. I shouldn’t…but I can hold her, and my urge to hold her supersedes my common sense.
“Please.” She lifts the blankets, inviting me into her bed.
“Fuck it.” I slip out of my shoes and socks and climb into my wife’s bed, facing her. Gently, I put an arm around her, and she lays her head on my chest.
Oh. The. Feel. Of. Her.
Ana.
I kiss her hair. “I don’t think Nurse Nora will be very happy with this arrangement.”
Ana giggles and stops abruptly. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”
“Oh, but I love that sound.” And I love you, Ana. With all my heart. “I’m sorry, baby. So, so sorry.” I kiss her once more and inhale her scent. I catch a trace of my Ana. She’s there, beneath the chemicals.
My wife. My beautiful wife.
She rests her hand on my heart, and I place my hand on hers and close my eyes.
“Why did you go see that woman?”
“Oh, Ana,” I groan. “You want to discuss that now? Can’t we drop this? I regret it, okay?”
“I need to know.”
“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” I mutter, too tired to be pissed about her question. “Oh, and Detective Clark wants to talk to you. Just routine. Now go to sleep.” I kiss her hair again.
“Do we know why Jack was doing all this?”
“Hmm…” I murmur as sleep beckons, hard and fast. And after hours and hours of worry, regret, and exhaustion, I submit, and fall into a deep, dreamless slumber.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Ana is out cold. I can’t wake her. Wake up, Ana. Wake up. Elena struts over to sit down beside me. She’s naked but for long, tight leather gloves that stop just above her elbows. And her black stilettos with red soles. She takes my hand. No. Her fingers clasp my thigh. No. Don’t touch me. No more. Only Ana. Her eyes blaze in anger, but the fire in them dies. Defeated, she stands. Clothed now in black. Good-bye, Christian. She flips her hair to the side and stalks to the door without looking back. I turn. Ana is awake, smiling at me. Join me. Sleep with me. Stay with me. My heart soars. Her words bring me joy. She caresses my cheek. Stay with me. Please. She begs. How can I resist? She loves me. She does. And I love her.
When I wake, it takes me a moment to remember that I’m in Ana’s hospital bed. She slumbers at my side, facing me, her head on the pillow. Eyes closed, lips parted, her cheek pale except for the faint purple blemish from Hyde’s cruel blow. The sight of it twists my gut in anger.
Don’t dwell, Grey.
She’s here. She’s safe.
I blink the sleep from my eyes, feeling rested but grimy. I’m in dire need of a shower, a shave, and clean clothes. My watch says 6:20 a.m. I have time. Now that Ana’s back in the world of the living, I don’t mind leaving her for a little while. With any luck, she’ll continue to sleep until I return. Carefully, so as not to wake her, I slide out of bed and slip on my shoes. I brush my lips to her forehead in the semblance of a kiss, then grab my phone, charger, and jacket and tiptoe out of the room as if I’m fleeing a crime scene.
I’m doing the walk of shame.
The thought amuses me.
We’re married, for fuck’s sake.
Fortunately, Nora and her colleagues are not at the nurses’ station, so my escape is unnoticed.
It’s my lucky day—there’s a cab waiting at the entrance of the hospital, and no photographers. And because it’s early, I make good time to Escala. By the time the elevator doors open to the penthouse, my mood is buoyant.
Taylor is in the foyer, on his way out. He steps back, mouth open, surprised to see me, but he recovers quickly. “Mr. Grey. Welcome back.”
“Good morning, Taylor.”
“I would have picked you up—I was bringing you a change of clothes as per Mrs. Grey’s instructions, and The Seattle Times.” He brandishes a leather duffel.
“It’s fine. I need a shower. We’ll head back when I’m done.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll ask Sawyer to join us.”
“We’ll pick up some breakfast for her on the way.”
He nods.
The steaming water cascades over me.
Washing away my sins.
Damn. After all that I’ve done, I wish it were that simple. And to cap it off, Ana wants to know everything about my discussion with Elena. What the hell am I going to tell her?
The truth, Grey.
She’s not going to like it. But I owe her that, especially considering my recent awful behavior. My effervescent humor fizzles and dies. While I shave, I contemplate the asshole who stares back at me in the mirror.
You owe her more than that.
After all that Ana’s done for you.
She saved your sister.
She saved YOU.
I close my eyes.
It’s true. This woman has disarmed me at every turn. She’s broken through all my barriers, cracked me wide open, and shined her light inside. She doesn’t take any of my shit. She’s driven out my darkness like the warrior she is—and offered me hope because she loves me. I know it.
And she’s carrying my child.
Fuck. A child.
The gray-eyed asshole stares back at me, bewildered.
She’s done all of this for the simple
reason that she loves me, and because she’s a decent human.
And how do I treat her?
Badly doesn’t cover it, Grey.
Her words haunt me. I do choose this defenseless baby over you. That’s what any loving parent does. That’s what your mother should have done for you. And I’m sorry that she didn’t—because we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now if she had. But you’re an adult now. You need to grow up and smell the fucking coffee, and stop behaving like a petulant adolescent.
And I thought she was leaving me.
I wipe my face.
Make this right, Grey.
On the way to the hospital, we stop and Taylor hurries into the café that he phoned for takeout. He returns with what looks like a breakfast feast for Ana; I hope she’s hungry. Sawyer pulls up at the entrance to the hospital, but when I climb out of the car, I’m ambushed by a couple of photographers, who start snapping away.
“How’s your wife, Mr. Grey?”
“Mr. Grey, will you be pressing charges?”
I ignore the assholes and dart inside the lobby. Taylor follows, carrying Ana’s breakfast.
We head to the nurses’ kitchen on Ana’s ward, where we lay out her breakfast on a tray. Damn, why didn’t I bring a small vase, and I could steal a flower from one of the many bouquets she’s received. It would go some way toward an apology.
“Sir,” says Taylor, as I lift the loaded tray, “before she left, Gail made Mrs. Grey’s favorite chicken stew, if I need to bring that in later for lunch, sir.”
“Good to know. I’m hoping I can take her home this morning.”
Taylor nods his affirmation and pushes open the door to Ana’s room to let me in, and I’m hoping for a warm welcome.
She’s gone.
Shit.
“Ana!” I shout as my heart catapults into overdrive.
“I’m in the bathroom!”
Oh, thank God.
Taylor bursts through the door, as alarmed as I was. “We’re good,” I reassure him, and he steps out again, presumably to sit in the corridor. I place the food on Ana’s rolling tray and wait, again, for Mrs. Grey…patiently, this time. A moment later she appears and rewards me with a broad grin—I’m relieved to see her up and about.
“Good morning, Mrs. Grey. I have your breakfast.”
