Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian (Fifty Shades 6)

“Become a Dom?”

“Yes.”

“Your decision?”

“Yes.”

“Dropping out of Harvard?”

“My decision, and it was the best decision I ever made. Until I met you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. The best decision I ever made was marrying you.” I smile at her.

“Not starting your company?” she whispers.

I shake my head.

“Not learning to fly?”

No, baby. “You.” I stroke her cheek once more, marveling at its softness. “She knew.”

“She knew what?”

“That I was head over heels in love with you. She encouraged me to go down to Georgia to see you, and I’m glad she did. She thought you’d freak out and leave. Which you did.”

Ana blinks, and the color drains from her cheeks.

“She thought I needed all the trappings of the lifestyle I enjoyed.”

“The Dom?”

Yes. “It enabled me to keep everyone at arm’s length, gave me control, and kept me detached, or so I thought. I’m sure you’ve worked out why.”

“Your birth mom?”

“I didn’t want to be hurt again. And then you left me.” I see the elevator doors closing on Ana once more, and I remember sitting on my foyer floor for what seemed like hours. “And I was a mess.” I take a deep breath. “I’ve avoided intimacy for so long—I don’t know how to do this.”

“You’re doing fine.” She sculpts my lips with her finger, and I press a kiss to her fingertip as we gaze at each other. And as ever, I’m drowning in her blue eyes. “Do you miss it?” she asks.

“Miss it?”

“That lifestyle.”

“Yes, I do.”

From her look, I’m not sure she believes me. “But only insofar as I miss the control it brings. And, frankly, your stupid stunt”—I halt—“that saved my sister.”

You mad. Bad. Beautiful woman. “That’s how I know.”

“Know?” She frowns.

“Really know that you love me.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Because you risked so much. For me. For my family.”

Her frown deepens, and I can’t resist. Reaching over, I skim over her brow with my fingertip. “You have a v here when you frown. It’s very soft to kiss.” Her expression lightens. “I can behave so badly, and yet you’re still here,” I murmur.

“Why are you surprised I’m still here? I told you I wasn’t going to leave you.”

“Because of the way I behaved when you told me you were pregnant.” Of its own accord, my finger traces her brow and down her cheek. “You were right. I am an adolescent.”

She purses her lips. Contrite. “Christian, I said some awful things.”

I place my finger over her mouth.

“Hush. I deserved to hear them. Besides, this is my bedtime story.” I roll onto my back again. “When you told me you were pregnant—” I stop, fighting my shame and trying to find the words. “I’d thought it would be just you and me for a while. I’d considered children, but only in the abstract. I had this vague idea we’d have a child sometime in the future. You’re still so young, and I know you’re quietly ambitious. Well, you pulled the rug out from under me. Christ, was that unexpected. Never in a million years, when I asked you what was wrong, did I expect you to be pregnant.” I sigh, disgusted at myself. “I was so mad. Mad at you. Mad at myself. Mad at everyone. And it took me back, that feeling of nothing being in my control. I had to get out. I went to see Flynn, but he was at some school parents’ evening.”

I glance at her as I arch a brow, hoping that she sees the funny side of that. And of course, she does.

“Ironic,” she says and we both smirk.

“So I walked and walked and walked, and I just found myself at the salon. Elena was leaving. She was surprised to see me. And, truth be told, I was surprised to find myself there. She could tell I was mad and asked me if I wanted a drink. We went to a quiet bar I know and had a bottle of wine. She apologized for the way she behaved the last time she saw us. She’s hurt that my mom will have nothing to do with her anymore—it’s narrowed her social circle—but she understands. We talked about the business, which is doing fine, in spite of the recession… I mentioned that you wanted kids.”

“I thought you let her know I was pregnant.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

I shrug. “I never got the chance.” You were too angry.

“Yes, you did.”

“I couldn’t find you the next morning, Ana. And when I did, you were so mad at me.”

“I was.”

“Anyway, at some point in the evening—about halfway through the second bottle—she leaned over to touch me. And I froze.” I throw my arm over my eyes. I’m mortified.

Spit it out, Grey.

“She saw that I recoiled from her. It shocked both of us.”

Ana tugs at my arm, so I turn and gaze at her.