Idly I kiss her hair, grateful that she can take a moment to unwind as she pops the bubbles in the foam.
“You didn’t get into the bath with Leila, did you? That time you bathed her?” she asks out of the blue.
“Um, no!”
“I thought so. Good.”
Where is this coming from?
Tugging her haphazard topknot of hair, I angle her head so I can see her face. I’m curious. “Why do you ask?”
She shrugs. “Morbid curiosity. I don’t know…seeing her this week.”
Hopefully you’ll never see her again. “I see. Less of the morbid.”
“How long are you going to support her?”
“Until she’s on her feet. I don’t know. Why?”
“Are there others?”
“Others?” I ask.
“Exes who you support.”
“There was one, yes. No longer, though.”
“Oh?”
“She was studying to be a doctor. She’s qualified now and has someone else.”
“Another Dominant?”
“Yes.”
“Leila says you have two of her paintings,” Ana mutters.
“I used to. I didn’t really care for them. They had technical merit, but they were too colorful for me. I think Elliot has them. As we know, he has no taste.”
Ana giggles, and it’s such a wonderful sound that I wrap both arms around her, with a little too much enthusiasm, and the bath water slops over the sides and onto the floor with a satisfying splash.
“That’s better.” I kiss her temple.
“He’s marrying my best friend.”
“Then I’d better shut my mouth.” I smile down at her and am rewarded with her answering smile. “We should eat.”
Ana’s face falls, but I’m not going to take no for an answer. I sit her up and clamber out of the bath, grabbing a robe as I do.
“You soak. I’m going to order some room service.”
Once I’ve ordered some food, I rummage through the shopping bags and change into fresh clothes. Taylor has done well. I like the black jeans and a grey cashmere sweater that he’s chosen. In the living room, I unpack my laptop and fire it up to check e-mails. While I’m scrolling through them, I have an idea.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Drunk Driver. Astoria PD.
Date: September 9 2011 17:34
To: Grey, Carrick
Hi, Dad
Mom has probably told you that Raymond Steele was in an accident. His car was hit by a drunk driver this morning in Astoria. Ray is now in the ICU. Can you use your police department contacts to find out any information about the guy who hit him?
Thanks.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I saunter back toward the bedroom and lean against the door frame, watching Ana search through the Nordstrom bags.
“Apart from harassing me at Clayton’s, have you ever actually gone into a store and just bought stuff?” she asks.
“Harassing you?” I amble over to her, trying to hide my amusement.
She half smiles. “Yes. Harassing me.”
“You were flustered, if I recall. And that young boy was all over you. What was his name?”
“Paul.”
“One of your many admirers.”
She rolls her eyes, and I cannot help my smile. I plant a quick kiss on her lips. “There’s my girl.” I knew she couldn’t be far away. “Get dressed. I don’t want you getting cold again.”
Ana is not seduced by the food I ordered. She eats two fries and half a crab cake, but that’s all. Sighing in disappointment, I watch her leave the table and head back into the bedroom. I know I can’t force her to eat, but it worries me when she doesn’t. While I debate what to do, I text José to invite him and his father to Ana’s surprise birthday dinner if—and it’s a big if—it goes ahead tomorrow and if José Senior is up for it, too.
At my laptop I check e-mails. There’s one from Carrick.
From: Grey, Carrick
Subject: Drunk Driver. Astoria PD.
Date: September 9 2011 17:42
To: Christian Grey.
Will do. Your mother should be in Portland now.
Dad.
Carrick Grey, Partner
Grey, Krueger, Davis, and Holt LLP
This is good news. My mom should be with Ray by the time we’re back at the hospital.
When Ana returns to the living room, she’s wearing a light blue hooded sweatshirt, chucks, and jeans. “Ready,” she murmurs. Maybe it’s because she’s sad and anxious, and her face is pale, but she looks younger.
But then, she’s still only twenty-one.
“You look so young—and to think you’ll be a whole year older tomorrow,” I murmur.
Her sad smile tears me in two. “I don’t feel much like celebrating. Can we go see Ray now?”
“Sure. I wish you’d eat something. You barely touched your food.”
“Christian, please. I’m just not hungry. Maybe after we’ve seen Ray. I want to wish him good night.”
José is leaving the ICU as we arrive. “Ana, Christian, hi.”
“Where’s your dad?” Ana asks.
“He was too tired to come back. He was in a car accident this morning.”
I think that’s José’s idea of a joke as he forces a grin.
“And his painkillers have kicked in,” he continues. “He was out for the count. I had to fight to get in to see Ray, since I’m not next of kin.”
“And?” Ana’s voice cracks with anxiety.
“He’s good, Ana. Same, but all good.”
She nods, relieved, I think.
“See you tomorrow, birthday girl.”
Hell. Don’t blow the surprise!
“Sure. We’ll be here,” Ana responds.
José glances at me, then pulls her into a brief hug, closing his eyes as he holds her. “Mañana,” he whispers.
Dude. Are you still holding a torch for my wife?
He releases her, and we wish him good night, watching him walk down the corridor toward the elevators.