Music and literature got me through puberty.
There’s sheet music on the rest, and I wonder who it belongs to, maybe Grace, maybe her housekeeper—she plays, I think. It’s a song I know, “Wherever You Will Go” by The Calling. My family gathers, continuing their conversations, while I read the music. My fingers flex, instinctively following the song.
I could play this.
And before I know it, I’ve started to play. The words are on the sheet music and I sing along. A few bars later I’m lost in the melody and the poignant lyrics—it’s just me and the piano and the music.
It’s a beautiful song. About loss…and love.
“I’ll go wherever you go…”
Slowly, the silence in the room intrudes into my consciousness. The chatting has ceased. I stop playing, and turn around on the stool to find out what has caught everyone’s attention. All eyes are on me.
What the hell!
“Go on,” Grace prompts, her voice wavering with emotion. “I’ve never heard you sing, Christian. Ever.” She’s almost inaudible, but I can hear her because of the oppressive silence in the room. Her face glows with pride and wonder and love.
It’s a gut punch.
Mom.
A well of feeling pours from my heart into my chest, filling me up and threatening to drown me.
I can’t breathe.
No. I cannot do this.
I shrug and surreptitiously take a deep breath and look at my wife, my anchor. She seems puzzled, possibly by the weird reaction of my family. In an effort to blot them out for a moment, I turn and stare through the French windows.
This is why I distance myself.
This.
To escape these…feelings.
There’s a sudden and almost spontaneous burst of chatter, and I get up and stand at the window. From the corner of my eye, I see Grace embrace my wife with an unbridled enthusiasm that surprises Ana. My mother whispers in her ear, and my throat burns with the same choking emotion from a moment ago. With a beseeching look, Grace kisses Ana’s cheek, then announces in a throaty voice, “I am going to make some tea.”
Ana takes pity on me and comes to my rescue. “Hi,” she says.
“Hi.” I slip my arm around her and tug her to my side, finding comfort in her warmth. She slides her hand in the back pocket of my jeans. Together, we watch the rain through the French window, the sun still in the distance. Somewhere there must be a rainbow.
“Feeling better?” I ask her.
She nods.
“Good.”
“You certainly know how to silence a room,” she says.
“I do it all the time.” I grin down at her.
“At work, yes, but not here.”
“True, not here.”
“No one’s ever heard you sing? Ever?”
“It appears not.” My tone is wry.
She stares up at me as if she’s trying to solve a puzzle.
It’s just me, Ana. “Shall we go?”
“You going to spank me?” she whispers.
What?
Ana is, as ever, unexpected. Her words twist and turn through me, awakening my desire. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m more than happy to play.”
Ana nervously scans the room.
Baby, no one can hear us. I tilt my head and whisper in her ear, “Only if you misbehave, Mrs. Grey.”
She squirms in my arms, and her face breaks into an impish grin. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Does she know how adrift I felt a moment ago?
Does she say this stuff to bring me back?
I don’t know, but right now, my heart swells with my love for her.
My answering grin is just as broad. “Let’s go.”
“It’s so good to see you so happy, darling,” Grace says, her gaze unwavering as she presses her palm against my cheek.
“Thanks for lunch.” I give her a quick peck.
“You are welcome, always, Christian. This is your home, too.”
“Thank you, Mom.” I pull her into an impulsive hug. She beams up at me, then turns her attention to Ana, hugging her hard. When I manage to pry Ana from my mother’s clutches, we wave our good-byes to everyone else and head to the car. As we do, it occurs to me that her decrepit Beetle must have been a stick shift too.
Let’s do this, Grey.
“Here.” I toss the R8 key at Anastasia. She catches it with one hand. “Don’t bend it or I will be fucking pissed.”
“Are you sure?” Her voice is full of excitement.
“Yes, before I change my mind.”
What’s mine is yours, baby. Even this…I think.
She lights up like Christmas, and rolling my eyes at her elation, I open the driver’s door to let her in. She starts the engine before I’m even in the car.
“Eager, Mrs. Grey?” I ask as I fasten my seat belt.
“Very.” She flashes me a wild-eyed smile and I wonder if I’ve made a huge mistake. She doesn’t take the top down—my girl is not wasting any time. Slowly, she reverses so that she can turn the car around in the driveway. I glance behind us, and Sawyer and Ryan are scrambling into the SUV.
Where were they?
Ana reaches the end of the driveway and glances nervously at me. Her early bravado has slipped a little. “You’re sure about this?”
“Yes,” I lie.
She inches out into the road and I brace myself. As soon as she’s on the pavement, she puts the pedal to the metal and we shoot down the street.
Fuck. “Whoa! Ana! Slow down! You’ll kill us both!”
She eases off the accelerator. “Sorry,” she says, but I know from her tone she’s anything but, and I’m reminded of our time, only yesterday, on the Jet Ski.
I smirk at her. “Well, that counts as misbehaving.”
Ana slows down a little more.
Good. That’s got her attention.
She drives steadily along Lake Washington Boulevard and through the Tenth Street intersection. My phone buzzes. “Shit.” I struggle to retrieve it from my jeans. It’s Sawyer. “What?” I snap.
“Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Grey. Are you aware of the Black Dodge following you?”
“No.” Turning around, I survey the street behind us through the cramped rear window of the R8, but as we’re on a bend, I don’t see any cars.