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.
It’s a lifetime ago.
“When I met her, she looked at me with her big blues eyes, and I knew. She saw past all the bullshit. She saw me. It was terrifying.”
“Yeah. I get that.”
“Why are you asking me?” Please don’t tell me it’s about Kavanagh!
“It’s Kate, man.”
Shit.
He continues, “I remember when I first saw her. I mean, she’s hot—no arguments there. And then we were dancing in that bar in Portland, and I thought…You don’t have to try so hard. You’ve got me, and what’s more, it’s only been her since then.”
I blow out a breath. This is not Elliot’s usual M.O.—he’s the most promiscuous person I know. “So, what’s the problem?” I ask.
“I dunno. Is she the one? I dunno.”
We’ve never had this kind of conversation before; there have been so many women in Elliot’s life. I don’t know what to say. “Well, as you know, she kept Ana out late last night, and whenever she’s with Ana, Ana comes back drunk,” I grumble. And she’s a major pain in the ass, but I can’t say that to him.
“Kate’s a good-time girl. Maybe that’s it. I just don’t know how she feels.”
“Dude, I am not the person to ask for advice. Believe me. You’ll have to figure this out for yourself.”
“I guess,” he says.
“Aspen might be the place.”
“Yes. I’ll text her.”
“She’s not with you?”
“No. But I want her to be. I’m just playing it cool.”
“Whatever, dude. I’ll send details of where to go in the morning.”
“It is the morning, bro.”
“True. This trip is a surprise for Ana. Tell Kate. I don’t want her blowing it.”
“Copy.”
“Good night, Elliot.”
“Dude.” He hangs up.
I stand staring at my phone, not quite believing the conversation we’ve just had. Elliot’s never asked me for advice on his love life. Ever. And as I suspected, he’s really fallen for Kavanagh. I don’t get it. She’s the most irritating woman on the planet.
It’s late, and I should head back to bed. But I’m drawn to the piano; some music will quiet my mind. I lift the lid, sit down, and focus. The keys are cool and familiar beneath my fingers, and I start to play Chopin. Melancholic music wraps around me like a soothing blanket, smothering my thoughts, the plaintive, somber notes a perfect match for my frame of mind. I play it once, twice, three times, losing myself in the melody and forgetting everything; it’s just me and the music. While I’m playing the piece for a fourth time, Ana appears at the edge of my vision dressed in her robe. I don’t stop, but I shift to make room for her on the stool. She sits down beside me and lays her head on my shoulder. Kissing her hair, I continue to play.
When I finish, I ask if I woke her.
“Only because you were gone. What’s that piece called?”
“It’s Chopin. It’s one of his preludes in E minor. It’s called ‘Suffocation.’” I almost smile at the irony: it’s what she accuses me of doing to her.
She takes my hand. “You’re really shaken by all this, aren’t you?”
“A deranged asshole gets into my apartment to kidnap my wife. She won’t do as she’s told. She drives me crazy. She safe-words on me.” I close my eyes. “Yeah, I’m pretty shaken up.”
She squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry.”
I press my forehead to hers, and I’m in the confessional, whispering my darkest fear. “I dreamed you were dead. Lying on the floor—so cold—and you wouldn’t wake up.” I swallow down the image that lingers from my nightmare.