Slowly she sits up and places her hands on my knees. “Christian, I’ve met your psycho ex with a gun, been thrown out of my apartment, had you go thermonuclear Fifty on me—”
Fifty?
I open my mouth to plead my case, but she holds up her hand to stop me, so I remain mute.
“You’ve just revealed some quite frankly shocking information about yourself, and now you’ve asked me to marry you.”
“Yes, I think that’s a fair and accurate summary of the situation.”
“Whatever happened to delayed gratification?” she asks, confounding me once more.
“I got over it, and I’m now a firm advocate of instant gratification. Carpe diem, Ana.”
“Look, Christian, I’ve known you for about three minutes, and there’s so much more I need to know. I’ve had too much to drink, I’m hungry, I’m tired, and I want to go to bed. I need to consider your proposal just as I considered that contract you gave me. And”—she pauses and purses her lips—“that wasn’t the most romantic proposal.”
Hope stirs in my chest. “Fair point well made, as ever, Miss Steele. So, that’s not a no?”
She sighs. “No, Mr. Grey, it’s not a no, but it’s not a yes, either. You’re only doing this because you’re scared and you don’t trust me.”
“No, I’m doing this because I’ve finally met someone I want to spend the rest of my life with. I never thought that would happen to me.”
And that’s the truth, Ana.
I love you.
“Can I think about it, please? And think about everything else that’s happened today? What you’ve just told me? You asked for patience and faith. Well, back at you, Grey. I need those now.”
Faith and patience.
I lean forward and smooth a wayward lock behind her ear. I would wait an eternity for her answer, if it meant that she didn’t leave me.
“I can live with that.” Leaning forward again, I give her a swift kiss.
She doesn’t recoil.
And I feel a brief sense of relief. “Not very romantic, eh?”
She shakes her head, her expression solemn.
“Hearts and flowers?” I ask.
She nods and I give her a smile.
“You’re hungry?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t eat.”
“No, I didn’t eat,” she says without rancor, and sits back on her heels. “Being thrown out of my apartment after witnessing my boyfriend interacting intimately with his ex-submissive considerably suppressed my appetite.” She places her hands on her hips.
I get to my feet, still amazed that she’s here. I hold out my hand. “Let me fix you something to eat.”
“Can’t I just go to bed?” She puts her hand in mine and I help her to her feet.
“No, you need to eat. Come.”
I lead her a few feet to a barstool, and once she’s sat down I explore the fridge.
“Christian, I’m really not hungry.”
I ignore her as I look through the contents of the fridge. “Cheese?” I offer.
“Not at this hour.”
“Pretzels?”
“In the fridge? No,” she says.
“You don’t like pretzels?”
“Not at eleven thirty. Christian, I’m going to bed. You can rummage around in your refrigerator for the rest of the night if you want. I’m tired, and I’ve had far too interesting a day. A day I’d like to forget.” She slides off the stool just as I find the dish Mrs. Jones prepared earlier this evening.
“Macaroni and cheese?” I hold it up.
Ana gives me a sideways look. “You like macaroni and cheese?” she asks.
Like? I love mac and cheese. “You want some?” I try and tempt her.
Her smile says all she needs to say.
I pop the bowl into the microwave and press heat.
“So, you know how to use the microwave, then?” Ana teases. She’s back on the barstool.
“If it’s in a packet, I can usually do something with it. It’s real food I have a problem with.”
I set up two place mats, plates, and cutlery.
“It’s very late,” Ana says.
“Don’t go to work tomorrow.”
“I have to go to work tomorrow. My boss is leaving for New York.”
“Do you want to go there this weekend?”
“I checked the weather forecast, and it looks like rain,” she says.
“Oh, so what do you want to do?”
The microwave pings. Our supper is ready.
“I just want to get through one day at a time right now. All this excitement is…tiring.”
Using a cloth, I remove the steaming bowl from the microwave and place it on the kitchen counter. It smells delicious, and I’m pleased that my appetite has returned. Ana dishes a spoonful onto each plate as I take my seat.
It’s staggering that she’s still with me, in spite of all I’ve told her. She’s so…strong. She never disappoints. Even when facing Leila, she kept her cool.
She takes a bite of her food, as do I. It’s exactly how I like it.
“Sorry about Leila,” I mutter.
“Why are you sorry?”
“It must have been a terrible shock for you, finding her in your apartment. Taylor swept through it earlier himself. He’s very upset.”
“I don’t blame Taylor.”
“Neither do I. He’s been out looking for you.”
“Really? Why?”
“I didn’t know where you were. You left your purse, your phone. I couldn’t even track you. Where did you go?”
“Ethan and I just went to a bar across the street. So I could watch what was happening.”
“I see.”
“So, what did you do with Leila in the apartment?”
“You really want to know?” I ask.
“Yes,” she replies, but in a tone that makes me think she’s not sure. I hesitate, but she glances at me once more and I have to be honest. “We talked, and I gave her a bath. And I dressed her in some of your clothes. I hope you don’t mind. But she was filthy.”
Ana remains mute and turns away from me. My appetite vanishes.
Shit. I shouldn’t have told her.
“It was all I could do, Ana,” I try to explain.
“You still have feelings for her?”
“No!” I close my eyes as a vision of Leila, sad and waiflike, comes to mind. “To see her like that—so different, so broken. I care about her, one human being to another.” I let go of the image and turn to Ana.
“Ana, look at me.”
She stares at her untouched food.
“Ana.”
“What?” she whispers.
“Don’t. It doesn’t mean anything. It was like caring for a child, a broken, shattered child.”
She closes her eyes, and for a horrid moment I think she’s going to burst into tears. “Ana?”
She stands and takes her plate to the sink and scrapes the contents into the trash.
“Ana, please.”
“Just stop, Christian! Just stop with the ‘Ana, please’!” she shouts with exasperation and starts to cry. “I’ve had enough of all this shit today. I’m going to bed. I’m tired and emotional. Now let me be.” She storms out of the kitchen toward the bedroom, leaving me with cooling, congealing macaroni and cheese.