Total pages in book: 262
Estimated words: 268603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1343(@200wpm)___ 1074(@250wpm)___ 895(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 268603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1343(@200wpm)___ 1074(@250wpm)___ 895(@300wpm)
“Good morning, Mrs. Grey. I have your breakfast.”
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?”