Ana. Don’t remind me.
She gasps. “I’m sorry.” She holds me, running her hands through my hair and down my back. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” she whispers.
“Let’s go to bed,” I say. Getting up, I pick my jeans up off the floor and slip them on. She follows me, keeping the sheet wrapped around herself to preserve her modesty. “Leave those,” I say, as she bends to gather her clothes. I scoop her into my arms, cradling her against my chest. “I don’t want you to trip over this sheet and break your neck.” I carry her downstairs to the bedroom and set her down. She slips on her nightdress while I take off my jeans and drag on my pajama bottoms, and together we climb into bed. “Let’s sleep,” I mutter. She gives me a sleepy smile and nestles into my arms.
I lie staring at the ceiling, trying to rid my mind of my morbid thoughts. We have Hyde, now. I should be asleep, like Ana is beside me. It never takes her long. I envy her that.
I close my eyes, grateful that she’s still here, in one piece, in our bed.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Ana’s on her knees. Bowed. Naked. In front of me. Her forehead pressed to the playroom floor. Her hair a burnished coronet against the wooden boards. Her hand stretched out. Splayed. She’s begging. I stand with a crop in hand. I want more. I always want more. But she can’t take it. Red. Red. Red. No! There’s a crash. The door flies open. His frame fills the doorway. He roars and the bloodcurdling sound fills the room. Fuck. No. No. No. He’s here. He knows. Ana screams. Red. Red. Red. He hits me. A right hook to my chin. I fall. And fall. My head spins. I’m faint. No. Stop the screaming. Red. Red. Red. Stop. It goes on. And on. Then it stops. I open my eyes and Hyde looms over her body. Syringe in hand. He leers. Ana is still. Pale. Cold. I shake her. She doesn’t move. Ana! She lies unresponsive in my arms. I shake her once more. Wake up. She’s gone. Gone! Gone! No. Kneeling on a sticky green rug, I clutch her to me and tip my head back and howl. Ana. Ana. Ana!
I’m startled awake, dragging air into my lungs.
Ana!
A quick twist of my head confirms that she’s peacefully asleep beside me.
Thank Christ.
Clasping my head in my hands, I stare up at the ceiling.
What the hell?
Why am I letting that asshole into my psyche?
He’s in custody. We’ve got him.
I take a long, calming breath as my thoughts wander.
Baby Bird? What the hell does that mean? From the depths of my brain something stirs but vanishes instantly. My mind spins, trying to chase it through the shadows, but without success. I suspect it’s from a part of my psyche that stores all the memories I try to forget. I shudder.
Don’t go there.
I know I’m not going back to sleep anytime soon. With a sigh, I get up, grab my phone, and pad into the kitchen for a glass of water. Standing by the sink, I run my hand through my hair.
Get it together, Grey.
Tomorrow we could do something special. Take our minds off Hyde.
Sailing? Soaring?
New York? No, it’s too far and given that I’ve just been there—and all the shenanigans that have ensued since I returned—I don’t think it’s a good idea.
Aspen.
I could take her to Aspen. She’s never seen the house. The press won’t find us there. What’s more, I could ask Elliot and Mia to join us. She said she wanted to see more of Kate.
Yes.
From my study, I send e-mails to Stephan, to Taylor, and to Mr. and Mrs. Bentley, the caretakers of our Aspen property, about a possible trip in the morning. Then I e-mail Mia and Elliot.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Aspen TODAY!
Date: August 27 2011 02:48
To: Elliot Grey; Mia G. Chef Extraordinaire
Mia, Elliot
As a surprise for Ana, I’m taking the jet to Aspen just for the night, Sat 27.
Come with us. Kate and Ethan are welcome to join us. We’ll be back Sunday evening.
Let me know if you’re up for it.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I press send and a few seconds later my phone buzzes.
ELLIOT
Sounds great, hotshot.
He’s awake.
Why the hell is he up at this time? He normally sleeps like the dead.
Can’t sleep?
ELLIOT
No. You?
I roll my eyes.
Obviously!
ELLIOT
All the Hyde shit?
Yeah.
My phone vibrates. Elliot is calling me.
What the hell?
“Dude, it’s late,” I answer.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he mutters.
“Doing what?”
“Taking advice from someone who married the first girl they dated. But how did you know?”
“How did I know what?”
“That Ana was the one,” he says.
What? Why’s he asking me this?
How did I know?
“It was instant,” I respond.
“What do you mean?”
I conjure an image of Ana falling into my office during that interview.