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

“Is he here?”

“I hope so. I’m paying him enough.”

She laughs and we both exit the car.

“Yo, bro!” I hear Elliot shout, but I can’t see him.

“Up here!” I scan the roofline, grateful that I’m wearing aviators against the glare of the sun, and there he is, waving at us. His grin rivals the Cheshire Cat’s. “About time we saw you here. Stay where you are. I’ll be right down.”

I reach out to Ana, and she takes my hand, and while we wait, we study the exterior of what will be our home. It’s bigger than I remember.

Plenty of room for our child.

My wayward thought surprises me.

Finally, Elliot appears at the front door caked in grime but still wearing his broad grin. He’s clearly over the moon that we’re here. “Hey, bro.” He pumps my hand like he’s trying to drag water from the deepest well. “And how are you, little lady?” He grabs Ana and swings her around.

“Better, thanks,” she says, laughing, a little embarrassed, I think.

Dude! Quit manhandling my wife! Her ribs are bruised!

He sets her down and I scowl at him.

Asshole.

But he ignores me—no one is raining on his parade today. “Let’s head over to the site office. You’ll need one of these.” He slaps the hard hat perched on his head.

Elliot gives us a thorough tour of the house, or what’s left of it—it’s almost a shell. Meticulously he explains the work in progress, and how long each stage is going to take. When he’s in his element like this, he’s so engaging. Both Ana and I listen, rapt.

The back wall at the rear has disappeared. This is where Gia Matteo’s glass wall will be, and the view is spectacular. There are a few sails out on the Sound, and I’m tempted to go down to The Grace after our visit here. But that’s not such a good idea, given Ana’s recent injuries. She’s still recovering and needs to take it easy.

“Hopefully we’ll be finished by Christmas,” Elliot declares.

“Next year,” I interject. There is no way we’ll be in by Christmas.

“We’ll see. With a fair wind it’s doable.”

In the kitchen, he concludes our tour. “I’ll leave you two to roam. Be careful. This is a building site.”

“Sure. Thanks, Elliot.”

My brother gives us a cheery wave and heads up the covered staircase to join his construction crew, back on the roof. I take Ana’s hand. “Happy?”

Ana gives me a dazzling smile. “Very. I love it. You?”

“Ditto.”

“Good. I was thinking of the pepper pictures in here.” Ana points to one of the walls.

I nod in agreement. “I want to put up José’s portraits of you in this house. You need to decide where they should go.”

Her cheeks stain that delicious shade of pink. “Somewhere I won’t see them often.”

“Don’t be like that.” I brush my thumb across her bottom lip. “They’re my favorite pictures. I love the one in my office.”

“I have no idea why.” She pouts and kisses the pad of my thumb.

“Worse things to do than look at your beautiful smiling face all day. Hungry?”

“Hungry for what?” She peers at me with the come-hither look that I know so well.

Oh, baby. I can only take so much of this.

“Food, Mrs. Grey.” I kiss her quickly.

She pouts and sighs. “Yes. These days I’m always hungry.”

“The three of us can have a picnic.”

“Three of us? Is someone joining us?”

I drop my head to one side.

Forgotten someone, Ana? “In about seven or eight months,” I murmur.

She grins goofily at me… Yeah. Him.

“I thought you might like to eat alfresco,” I suggest, casually.

“In the meadow?”

I nod.

“Sure.” Ana lights up. And I feel ten feet tall for thinking of bringing a picnic. We have so much space and privacy here.

“This will be a great place to raise a family.” I gaze down at my wife.

Junior will be happy here.

The meadow as his backyard.

I reach out and spread my hand over her belly. Ana’s breath hitches and she places her hand on mine.

“It’s hard to believe,” I whisper.

“I know. Oh—here, I have evidence. A picture.”

“You do? Baby’s first smile?”

From her wallet she produces a black-and-white image on shiny paper and hands it to me. “See?” she says.

The grainy photograph is mostly gray. But in the middle, there’s a small, dark void, and within that, there’s a tiny anomaly, anchored to the gray, but visible against the darkness. “Oh, blip,” I breathe in wonder. “Yeah, I see.”

Our blip. Wow. Our tiny human. Baby Grey.

And I’m surprised by a momentary pang of regret, that I missed this moment with Ana.

“Your child,” she whispers.

“Our child,” I correct her.

“First of many.”

“Many?” What?

“At least two.” Ana sounds hopeful.

“Two?” Shit! “Can we just take this one child at a time?”

She smiles up at me fondly. “Sure.”

I take her hand, and together we walk back through the house and out the front door.