“Left here.” Ana puts her foot down and we speed up the street. “Hell! Gently, Ana.” I grab the dashboard. “Slow down!” She’s doing thirty-eight through the neighborhood!
“I am slowing down!” she shouts as she brakes.
I sigh and get to the heart of what I want to talk about, trying and failing to sound casual. “What did Flynn say?”
“I told you. He says I should give you the benefit of the doubt.” Ana signals to pull over.
“What are you doing?”
“Letting you drive.”
“Why?”
“So I can look at you.”
I laugh. “No, no. You wanted to drive. So you drive, and I’ll look at you.”
She turns to say something to me.
“Keep your eyes on the road!” I shout.
She screeches to a halt just before a traffic light, releases her seatbelt, and storms out of the car, slamming the door.
What the hell?
She stands on the sidewalk with arms crossed in what’s both a defensive and combative pose, glaring at me. I scramble out after her. “What are you doing?” I ask, completely thrown.
“No. What are you doing?”
“You can’t park here.” I point to the abandoned Saab.
“I know that.”
“So why have you?”
“Because I’ve had it with you barking orders. Either you drive or you shut up about my driving!”
“Anastasia, get back in the car before we get a ticket.”
“No.”
I run my hands through my hair. What’s got into her?
I look down at her. I’m at a loss. Her expression changes, softening. Damn it, is she laughing at me? “What?” I ask.
“You.”
“Oh, Anastasia! You are the most frustrating female on the planet.” I throw my hands in the air. “Fine. I’ll drive.”
She grabs my jacket and tugs me against her body. “No. You are the most frustrating man on the planet, Mr. Grey.”
She looks up at me with guileless blue eyes that pull me under and I’m drowning and I’m lost. Lost in a different way. I put my arms around her, holding her close. “Maybe we’re meant for each other, then.” She smells amazing. I should bottle this.
Soothing. Sexy. Ana.
She hugs me hard and rests her cheek against my chest.
“Oh. Ana, Ana, Ana.” I kiss her hair and hold her.
It’s weird, embracing in the street.
Another first. No. A second. I held her on the street near Esclava.
She moves and I release her, and without saying a word, I open the passenger door and she gets in the car.
At the wheel, I start the car and pull into the traffic. There’s a Van Morrison song playing over the sound system and I hum along as we head toward the on-ramp for I-5. “You know, if we had gotten a ticket, the title of this car is in your name,” I tell her.
“Well, good thing I’ve been promoted. I can afford the fine.”
And I hide my amusement as we head north on I-5.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“It’s a surprise. What else did Flynn say?”
“He talked about FFFSTB or something.”
“SFBT. The latest therapy option.”
“You’ve tried others?”
“Baby, I’ve been subjected to them all. Cognitivism, Freud, functionalism, Gestalt, behaviorism. You name it, over the years I’ve done it.”
“Do you think this latest approach will help?”
“What did Flynn say?”
“He said not to dwell on your past. Focus on the future—on where you want to be.”
I nod, but I don’t understand why she hasn’t accepted my proposal.
That’s where I want to be.
Married.
Perhaps he said something to discourage her. “What else?” I ask, trying to get an inkling of what he might have said to dissuade her.
“He talked about your fear of being touched, although he called it something else. And about your nightmares and your self-abhorrence.” I turn to meet her gaze.
“Eyes on the road, Mr. Grey,” she scolds.
“You were talking forever, Anastasia. What else did he say?”
“He doesn’t think you’re a sadist.”
“Really?” Flynn and I have differing views on this. He cannot step into my shoes. He doesn’t really understand.
Ana continues. “He says that that term’s not recognized in psychiatry. Not since the nineties.”
“Flynn and I have differing opinions on this.”
“He said you always think the worst of yourself. I know that’s true. He also mentioned sexual sadism—but he said that was a lifestyle choice, not a psychiatric condition. Maybe that’s what you’re thinking about.”
Ana, you have no idea.
You will never know the depths of my depravity.
“So, one talk with the good doctor and you’re an expert.”
She sighs. “Look, if you don’t want to hear what he said, don’t ask me,” she says.
Fair point, Miss Steele.
Grey. Stop hounding the girl.
She turns her attention to the passing cars.
Damn.
“I want to know what you discussed,” I say in a tone that I hope sounds conciliatory. I leave I-5 and head west on Northwest Eighty-fifth Street.
“He called me your lover.”
“Did he, now? Well, he’s nothing if not fastidious about his terms. I think that’s an accurate description. Don’t you?”
“Did you think of your subs as lovers?”