Fifty Shades Trilogy Bundle: Fifty Shades of Grey; Fifty Shades Darker; Fifty Shades Freed (119 page)

“I will lay my world at your feet, Anastasia. I want you, body and soul, forever.”

Oh, please, let him be okay. He cannot be gone. He is the center of my universe.

An involuntary sob escapes my throat, and I clutch my hand to my mouth. No. I must be strong.

José is suddenly at my side, or has he been there a while? I have no idea.

“Do you want to call your mom or dad?” he asks gently.

No! I shake my head and clutch José’s hand. I cannot speak, I know I will dissolve if I do, but the warmth and gentle squeeze of his hand offers me no solace.

Oh, Mom. My lip trembles at the thought of my mother. Should I call her? No. I couldn’t deal with her reaction. Maybe Ray; he wouldn’t get emotional—he never gets emotional, not even when the Mariners lose.

Grace rises to join the boys, distracting me. That must be the longest she’s sat still. Mia comes to sit beside me, too, and grabs my other hand.

“He will come back,” she says, her voice initially determined but cracking on the last word. Her eyes are wide and red-rimmed, her face pale and pinched from lack of sleep.

I gaze up at Ethan, who is watching Mia and Elliot, who has his arms around Grace. I glance at the clock. It’s after eleven, heading toward midnight.
Damn time!
With each passing hour, the clawing emptiness expands, consuming me, choking me. I know deep down inside I am preparing myself for the worst. I close my eyes and offer up another silent prayer, clasping both Mia’s and José’s hands.

Opening my eyes again, I stare into the flames once more. I can see his shy smile—my favorite of all his expressions, a glimpse of the real Christian, my real Christian. He is so many people: control freak, CEO, stalker, sex god, Dom—and at the same time—such a boy with his toys. I smile. His car, his boat, his plane, his
Charlie Tango
helicopter … my lost boy, truly lost right now. My smile fades and pain lances through me. I remember him in the shower, wiping away the lipstick marks.

“I’m nothing, Anastasia. I’m a husk of a man. I don’t have a heart.”

The lump in my throat expands. Oh, Christian, you do, you do have a heart, and it’s mine. I want to cherish it forever. Even though he’s so complex and difficult, I love him. I will always love him. There will never be anyone else. Ever.

I remember sitting in Starbucks weighing up my Christian pros and cons. All those cons, even those photographs I found this morning, melt into insignificance now. There’s just him and whether he’ll come back.
Oh please, Lord, bring him back, please
let him be okay. I’ll go to church … I’ll do anything
. Oh, if I get him back, I shall seize the day. His voice echoes around in my head once more:
“Carpe diem, Ana.”

I gaze deeper into the fire, the flames still licking and curling around each other, blazing brightly. Then Grace shrieks, and everything goes into slow motion.

“Christian!”

I turn my head in time to see Grace barreling across the great room from where she had been pacing somewhere behind me, and there in the entrance stands a dismayed Christian. He’s dressed in just his shirtsleeves and suit pants, and he’s holding his navy jacket, shoes, and socks. He looks tired, dirty, and utterly beautiful.

Holy fuck … Christian
. He’s alive. I gaze numbly at him, trying to work out if I’m hallucinating or if he’s really here.

His expression is one of utter bewilderment. He deposits his jacket and shoes on the floor in time to catch Grace, who throws her arms around his neck and kisses him hard on the cheek.

“Mom?”

Christian gazes down at her, completely at a loss.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Grace whispers, voicing our collective fear.

“Mom, I’m here.” I hear the consternation in his voice.

“I died a thousand deaths today,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, echoing my thoughts. She gasps and sobs, no longer able to hold back her tears. Christian frowns, horrified or mortified—I don’t know which—then after a beat, envelops her in a huge hug, holding her close.

“Oh, Christian,” she chokes, wrapping her arms around him, weeping into his neck—all self-restraint forgotten—and Christian doesn’t balk. He just holds her, rocking to and fro, comforting her. Scalding tears pool in my eyes. Carrick hollers from the hallway.

“He’s alive! Shit—you’re here!” He appears from Taylor’s office, clutching his cell phone, and embraces both of them, his eyes closed in sweet relief.

“Dad?”

Mia squeals something unintelligible from beside me, then she’s up and runs to join her parents, hugging all of them, too.

Finally the tears start to cascade down my cheeks. He’s here, he’s fine. But I cannot move.

Carrick is the first to pull away, wiping his eyes and clapping Christian on the shoulder. Mia releases them then, and Grace steps back.

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

“Hey, Mom—it’s okay,” Christian says, consternation still evident on his face.

“Where were you? What happened?” Grace cries and puts her head in her hands.

“Mom,” Christian mutters. He draws her into his arms again and kisses the top of her head. “I’m here. I’m good. It’s just taken me a hell of a long time to get back from Portland. What’s with the welcoming committee?” He looks up and scans the room until his eyes lock with mine.

He blinks and glances briefly at José, who lets go of my hand. Christian’s mouth tightens. I drink in the sight of him and relief courses through me, leaving me spent, exhausted, and completely elated. Yet my tears don’t stop. Christian turns his attention back to his mother.

“Mom, I’m good. What’s wrong?” Christian says reassuringly. She places her hands on either side of his face.

“Christian, you’ve been missing. Your flight plan—you never made it to Seattle. Why didn’t you contact us?”

Christian’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I didn’t think it would take this long.”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“No power in my cell.”

“You didn’t stop … call collect?”

“Mom—it’s a long story.”

“Oh, Christian! Don’t you ever do that to me again! Do you understand?” she half shouts at him.

“Yes, Mom.” He wipes her tears away with his thumbs and hugs her once more. When she composes herself, he releases her to hug Mia, who slaps him hard on the chest.

“You had us so worried!” she blurts out, and she, too, is in tears.

“I’m here now, for heaven’s sake,” Christian mutters.

As Elliot comes forward, Christian relinquishes Mia to Carrick, who already has one arm around his wife. He curls the other around his daughter. Elliot hugs Christian briefly, much to Christian’s surprise, and slaps him hard on the back.

“Great to see you,” Elliot says loudly, if a little gruffly, trying to hide his emotion.

As the tears stream down my face, I can see it all. The great room is bathed in it—unconditional love. He has it in spades; he’s just never accepted it before, and even now he’s at a total loss.

Look, Christian, all these people love you! Perhaps now you’ll start believing it
.

Kate is standing behind me—she must have left the TV room—and she gently strokes my hair.

“He’s really here, Ana,” she murmurs comfortingly.

“I’m going to say hi to my girl now,” Christian tells his parents. Both of them nod, smile, and step aside.

He moves toward me, gray eyes bright though weary and still bemused. From somewhere deep inside, I find the strength to stagger to my feet and bolt into his open arms.

“Christian!” I sob.

“Hush,” he says and holds me, burying his face in my hair and inhaling deeply. I raise my tearstained face to his, and he kisses me far too briefly.

“Hi,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” I whisper back, the lump in the back of my throat burning.

“Miss me?”

“A bit.”

He grins. “I can tell.” And with a gentle touch of his hand, he wipes away the tears that refuse to stop running down my cheeks.

“I thought … I thought—” I choke.

“I can see. Hush … I’m here. I’m here …” he murmurs and kisses me chastely again.

“Are you okay?” I ask, releasing him and touching his chest, his arms, his waist—oh, the feel of this warm, vital, sensual man beneath my fingers—reassures me that he’s here, standing in front of me. He’s back. He doesn’t so much as flinch. He just regards me intently.

“I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh, thank God.” I clasp him around his waist again, and he hugs me once more. “Are you hungry? Do you need something to drink?”

“Yes.”

I step back to get him something, but he doesn’t let me go. He tucks me under his arm and extends a hand to José.

“Mr. Grey,” says José evenly.

Christian snorts. “Christian, please,” he says.

“Christian, welcome back. Glad you’re okay … and, um—thanks for letting me stay.”

“No problem.” Christian narrows his eyes, but he’s distracted by Mrs. Jones, who is suddenly at his side. It only occurs to me now that she’s not her usual smart self. I hadn’t noticed it before. Her hair is loose, and she’s in soft gray leggings and a large gray sweatshirt with
WSU COUGARS
emblazoned on the front that dwarfs her. She looks years younger.

“Can I get you something, Mr. Grey?” She wipes her eyes with a tissue.

Christian smiles fondly at her. “A beer, please, Gail—Budvar—and a bite to eat.”

“I’ll get it,” I murmur, wanting to do something for my man.

“No. Don’t go,” he says softly, tightening his arm around me.

The rest of his family closes in, and Ethan and Kate join us. He shakes Ethan’s hand and gives Kate a quick peck on the cheek. Mrs. Jones returns with a bottle of beer and a glass. He takes the bottle but shakes his head at the glass. She smiles and returns to the kitchen.

“Surprised you don’t want something stronger,” mutters Elliot.
“So what the fuck happened to you? First I knew was when Dad called me to say the chopper was missing.”

“Elliot!” Grace scolds.

“Helicopter,” Christian growls, correcting Elliot, who grins, and I suspect this is a family joke.

“Let’s sit and I’ll tell you.” Christian pulls me over to the couch, and everyone sits down, all eyes on Christian. He takes a long drink of his beer. He spies Taylor hovering at the entrance and nods. Taylor nods back.

“Your daughter?”

“She’s fine now. False alarm, sir.”

“Good.” Christian smiles.

Daughter? What happened to Taylor’s daughter?

“Glad you’re back, sir. Will that be all?”

“We have a helicopter to pick up.”

Taylor nods. “Now? Or will the morning do?”

“Morning, I think, Taylor.”

“Very good, Mr. Grey. Anything else, sir?”

Christian shakes his head and raises his bottle to him. Taylor gives him a rare smile—rarer than Christian’s, I think—and heads out, presumably to his office or up to his room.

“Christian, what happened?” Carrick demands.

Christian launches into his story. He was flying in
Charlie Tango
with Ros, his number two, to deal with a funding issue at WSU in Vancouver. I can barely keep up, I’m so dazed. I just hold Christian’s hand and stare at his manicured fingernails, his long fingers, the creases on his knuckles, his wristwatch—an Omega with three small dials. I gaze up at his beautiful profile as he continues his tale.

“Ros had never seen Mount Saint Helens, so on the way back as a celebration, we took a quick detour. I heard the temporary flight restriction was lifted a while back, and I wanted to take a look. Well, it’s fortunate that we did. We were flying low, about two hundred feet above ground level, when the instrument panel lit up. We had a fire in the tail—I had no choice but to cut all the
electronics and land.” He shakes his head. “I set her down by Silver Lake, got Ros out, and managed to put the fire out.”

“A fire? Both engines?” Carrick is horrified.

“Yep.”

“Shit! But I thought—”

“I know,” Christian interrupts him. “It was sheer luck I was flying so low,” he murmurs. I shudder. He releases my hand and puts his arm around me.

“Cold?” he asks me. I shake my head.

“How did you put out the fire?” asks Kate, her Carla Bernstein instincts kicking in. Jeez, she sounds terse sometimes.

“Extinguisher. We have to carry them—by law,” Christian answers levelly.

His words from long ago circle my mind.
I thank Divine Providence every day that it was you who came to interview me and not Katherine Kavanagh
.

“Why didn’t you call or use the radio?” Grace asks.

Christian shakes his head. “With the electronics out, we had no radio. And I wasn’t going to risk turning them on because of the fire. GPS was still working on the BlackBerry, so I was able to navigate to the nearest road. Took us four hours to walk there. Ros was in heels.” Christian’s mouth presses into a disapproving flat line.

“We had no cell reception. There’s no coverage at Gifford. Ros’s battery died first. Mine dried up on the way.”

Holy hell
. I tense and Christian pulls me into his lap.

“So how did you get back to Seattle?” Grace asks, blinking slightly at the sight of the two of us, no doubt. I flush.

“We hitched and pooled our resources. Between us, Ros and I had six hundred dollars, and we thought we’d have to bribe someone to drive us back, but a truck driver stopped and agreed to bring us home. He refused the money and shared his lunch with us.” Christian shakes his head in dismay at the memory. “Took forever. He didn’t have a cell—weird but true. I didn’t realize.” He stops, gazing at his family.

“That we’d worry?” Grace scoffs. “Oh, Christian!” she scolds him. “We’ve been going out of our minds!”

“You’ve made the news, bro.”

Christian rolls his eyes. “Yeah. I figured that much when I arrived to this reception and the handful of photographers outside. I’m sorry, Mom—I should have asked the driver to stop so I could phone. But I was anxious to be back.” He glances at José.

Oh, that’s why, because José is staying here
. I frown at the thought. Jeez—all that worry.

Grace shakes her head. “I’m just glad you’re back in one piece, darling.”