"But, Christian, she was ill."
"I know that, and I know she's better now, but I'm not giving her the benefit
of the doubt anymore. What she did w as unforgivable."
"But you've just played right into her hands. She wanted to see you again,
Christian shrugs as if he doesn't care. "I don't want you tainted with my old
What!
"Christian . . . you are who you are because of your old life, your new life,
whatever. What touches you, touches me. I accepted that when I agreed to marry
"She didn't hurt me. She loves you, too."
I gape at him, shocked. And I'm shocked that he still has the capacity to
shock me. This is tin ' o ' Leila t. s ill lc around my head.
His reaction to her was so cold, so much at odds with the man I've come to know
and love. I frown, recalling the remorse he felt when she had her breakdown,
when he thought he might In some way be responsible lor her pain. I swallow, re-
membering, ioo. that he bathed lie;". My stomach twists painfully a! the thought,
and bile rises in my throat. How can he say he doesn't care about her? He did
back then. What's changed? Sometimes, life now I just don't understand him I Ic
operates on a level far, far removed from mine.
"Why are you championing her cause all of a Midden?" he asks, mystified
and irritable.
"Look. Christian. ! don't think Leila and i will be swapping recipes and knit-
ting patterns anytime soon. But I didn't think you'd be so heartless to her."
His eyes frost. "I told you once, 1 don't have a heart," he mutters.
I roll my eyes — oh, now he is being adolescent.
"That's just not true, Christian. You're being ridiculous. You do care about
her. You wouldn't be pay ing for an classes and the rest of that stuff if you didn't."
Suddenly, it's my lifetime ambition to make him realize this. It's painstak-
ingly obvious that he cares. Win does he dcn it'.' It's life has feelings for his birth
mother. Oh shit— of course. His feelings for Leila and his other submisshes arc
tangled up with his feelings for his mother. / like to whip little brown-haired girls
like you /ittiH/st t i 1 s i t I sigh
and shake my head. Paging Dr. Flynn. please, i low can he not see this?
My heart swells lor hint momentarily. My lost boy . . . Why is it so hard for
him to get back in touch with the humanity, die compassion he showed Leila
when she had her breakdown'.'
lie glares at inc. h hit I 1 1 1 i i i l i
He frowns as if he doesn't understand.
"You know," I elucidate, "1 do something y ou don't like, and you think of
some way to get back at me. Usually involving some of your kinky fuckery,
which is either mind-blowing or cruel." I shrug, resigned. This is exhausting and
"Mind-blowing?" he asks.
What?
"Usually, yes."
"What was mind-blowing?" he asks, his eyes now shimmering w ith amused
sensual curiosity. And I know he's trying to distract mc.
Crap! I do not want to discuss this in SIP's meeting room. My subconscious
examines her finely manicured nails with disdain. Shouldn 't have brought the
subject up, then.
"You know." I blush, irritated with both him and myself.
"1 can guess." he whispers.
Holy crap. I'm trying lo castigate him and lie's confounding mc. "Christian,
"I like to please you." He delicately traces his thumb over my bottom lip.
"You do," I acknowledge, my voice a whisper.
"1 know," he says softly. He leans forward and whispers in my ear, "It's the
one thing I do know." Oh, he smells good. He leans back and gazes down at me,
Pursing my lips. ! stric lo appeal unaffected b> his touch. He is so artful at
duelling me from atnlhing painful, or atnlhing lie doesn't want to address. And
you let him my sub i i helpful i el her copy of Jane
Eyre.
"What was mind-blowing, Anastasia?" he prompts, a wicked gleam in his
"You want the list?" I ask.
Oh. thi lanisexl listing. "Well, the handcuffs," 1
"Home," he says, more insistent.
We gaze at each Iher. molten gi I I esting each other,
testing our boundaries and our wills. I search his eyes for some understanding,
trying to fathom how this man can go from raging control freak to seductive lover
in one breath. His eyes grow larger and darker, his intention clear. Softly, he
caresses my cheek.
"We could stay here." His is voice low and husky.
Oh no. My innei gi I longingl) 11 il the lodcn table. No. No.
No. Not in the office. "Christian, I don't want to have sex here. Your mistress has
just been in this room."
"She was never my mistress," he growls, his mouth flattening into a grim
"That's just semantics, Christian."
He frowns, his expression puzzled. The seductive lover has gone. "Don't
sonhinklhi i. Sh i i ismissiel
I sigh . . . maybe he's right. I just want him to admit to himself that he cares
for her. A chill grips my heart. Oh no. This is why it's important to me. Suppose /
do something unforgi able. Suppose 1 don't conform. Will I be history, too? If he
can i i i I 1 1 li ii i s i i n 1 i 1 n Lul i w is ill . . .
could he turn againsi me? 1 gasp, recalling die fragments id' a dream: gilt mirrors
and the sound of his heels clicking on the marbled floor as he leaves me standing
alone in opulent splendor.
"No . . ." The words are out of my month in whispered horror before 1 can
stop them.
"Yes," he says, am grasping m> chin he leans do n id plants a tender kiss
on my lips.
"Oh, Christian. tin scare me sometimes?' I grasp his head in my hands, twist
my fingers into his hint, and null his hps to mine, lie stills for a moment as his
arms fold around mc.
"Why?"
"You could turn away from her so easily . . ."
He frowns. "And you think I might turn away from you, Ana? Why the hell
would you think that? What's brought this on?"
"Nothing. Kiss me. l ake me home' 1 plead. And as his lips touch mine, 1 am
lost.
"Oh please," I beg. as ( hristian blow s gently on my sex.
"All in good time," he murmurs.
I pull on my restraint ind groan loudly i rot 01 his carnal assault. I'm
trussed up in soft leather culls, each elbow bound to each, knee, and Christian's
head bobs and wea cs between nn legs, his masterful tongue leasing me, rclent-
1 n I t i ii it i i i_ brthed in the soft
and around the center of my universe. I want to straighten my legs and struggle in
a vain attempt to control the pleasure. But 1 can't. My lingers list in his hair and I
tug hard to light ills sublime torture.
"Don't come." he murmurs in warning against inc. his soft breath on my
w arm. wet flesh as he resists my fingers. "I will spank you if you come."
"Control, Ana. It's all about control." His tongue renews its erotic incursion.
tion, and I try — really try — but my body detonates under his merciless ministra-
ix ui me.
"Oh, Ana." he scolds. "You came." His voice is soft w ith his triumphant rep-
rimand. He flips mc Mo n iii ,1^ I uppoi sit on my toicarms.
""Control." he admonishes, ami grabbing my hip-, lie thrusts himself into mc. I
cry out again, my flesh still q i i i lit I I ol my oigasm. He
stills while deep inside me and, leaning over, unclips first one, then the second
cuff. 1 1c w raps his arm around mc and pulls me into his lap. his front to my back,
and his hand curls beneath m chin around m throat. I revel in the feeling of
fullness.
"Move," he orders.
I moan and rise up and down on his lap.
■'Faster,'" he whispers.
And I move faster and faster, lie groans and his hand tips m> head hack as lie
nibbles my neck. His other hand travels leisurely across my body, from my hip,
down to my sex, down to my clitoris . . . still sensitive from his earlier la ish at-
tention. I w himpcr as his fingers close around inc. leasing me once more.
"Yes Vim i i i n i i u are m id o
"Yes." I breathe as my body lightens again, closing around him. cradling him
in the most intimate way.
And I let go n it low ing I i 1 He holds me still
as my climax rips through me and 1 call out his name.
"Oh, Ana, I love you," he groans and follow m> lead as he bucks into me,
finding his own release.
He kisses my shoulder and smoothes m> hair from m> face. "Does that make the
our bed. Christian gcnll kneads my backside, lie's propped up beside me on one
lie grins ami kisses me again, and reluctantly I roll on my side lo lace him.
"Well?" he asks.
His face nearly spin-, in two. ami he leans forward to kiss me gently. "Good.
Shall we have dinner?" His eyes glow with love and humor.
I nod. I am famished. I reach over to gently pull the little hairs on his chest. "I
want you to tell me something," I whisper.
"What?"
"Don't get mad."
"What is it, Ana?"
He stills, his eyes nol le;i ing mine, and I'm witness to his internal struggle as
if he's about to make the judgment of Solomon. He opens his mouth to say
something then closes it again as some fleeting emotion crosses his face . . . pain,
"Yes. Yes, I care. Happy?" His voice is barely a whisper.
Oh, thank fuck for that. It's a relief. "Yes. Very."
I le i'row its. "I can't believe I'm talking to you now, here in our bed, about —
I put my finger to his lips. "We're not. Let's eat. I'm hungry."
Ill I shakes Ins h 1 i a I Ider me. Mrs. C ire
"Good." I lean up and kiss him.
From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: The List
Date: September 9, 2011 09:33
To; Christian Grey
That's definitely at the top.
' nmissii a 11 I lit" 1 'I'
Chapter Seventeen
"Mr. Rodriguez, win.!'* happened'.'" I voice is hoarse and thick with unshed
tears. Ray. Sweet Ray. My dad.
"He's been in a car accident."
"Okay, I'll come . . . I'll come now." Adrenaline has flooded my blood-
stream, leaving panic in its wake. I'm finding it difficult to breathe.
"They've transferred him to Portland."
Portland? What the hell is he doing in Portland?
"They airlifted him, Ana. I'm heading there now. OHSU. Oh, Ana, I didn't
see the car. I just didn't sec it . . ." His voice cracks.
Mr. Rodriguez — no!
"I'll see you there." Mr. Rodriguez chokes mid the line goes dead.
A dark dread seizes me by die ihroal. overw helming me. Ray. No. No. 1 lake
a deep steadying breath, pick up the phone and call Roach. He answers on the
second ring.
"Jerry. It's my father."
"Ana, what happened?"
I explain, barely pausing to breathe.
"Go. Of course, you must go. I hope your father's okay."
"Thank you. I'll keep you informed." Inadvertently I slam the phone down,
bin right now couldn't cure less.
"Hannah!" 1 call, aware of the anxiety in my voice. Moments later she pokes
her head around the door to find me packing my purse and grabbing papers to
stuff into my briefcase.
"Yes, Ana?" She frowns.
"M father has been in an accident. 1 have to go."
"Cancel all my appointments today. And Monday. You'll have to finish prep-
ping the e-book presentation — notes are in the shared file. Get Courtney to help if
you have to."
"Yes," Hannah whispers. "I hope he's okay. Don't worry about anything
here. We'll muddle through."
"I have my BlackBerry."
Daddy.
I grab nn jacket, purse, and briefcase. "I'll call von i I' 1 need am thing "
"Do. please. ( iood leek. Ana. ! lope he's okay."
I give her a small light smile, fighting to maintain nn composure, and exit
my office. I try hard not to run all the way to reception. Sawyer leaps to his feet
when I arrive.
Irs. Cirt n n d by n Iden appearance
"We're going to Portland — now."
"Okay, ma'am." he says, frowning, but opens the door.
Moving is good.
"Mrs. Grey." Sawyer a-.lv. as we nice toward i lie parking lot. "Can I ask why
w e're making this unscheduled trip?"
"It's my dad. He's been in an accident."
"I sec. Docs Mr. Grey know?"
"I'll call him from the car."
Sawyer nods and opens the rear door to the Audi SUV, and I climb in. With
III I I i II
"Mrs. Grey." Andrea's voice is crisp and businesslike.
"Is Christian there?" I breathe.
"Um . . . he's somewhere in the building, ma'am. He's left his BlackBerry
charging w ill) inc."
! groan silent ly w ith frustration.
"Can you tell him I caked, and thai I need to speak w illi him? It's urgent."
"I could try and track Irii i I h f wandet I
"Just get him to call me, please," I beg, fighting back tears.
"Cerlainh . Mrs. drey." She hesitates. "Is even ihing all right?"
"No," I whisper, not trusting my voice. "Please, just get him to call me."
I hang up. I cannot contain m anguish an longer. Pulling my knees up to
my chest, 1 curl up on the real seal, and tears ooze, unw clcomc. down my checks.
"Where in Portland, Mrs. Grey?" Sawyer asks gently.
"OHSU," I choke out. "The big hospital."
Sawyer pulls out into the street and heads for the 1-5, while I keen softly in
the back of the c / / PI I r
him be okay.
"Christian," I gasp.
"Christ, Ana. What's wrong?"
"It's Ray — he's been in an accident."
"Shit!"
"Yes. I am on my way to Portland."
"Portland'.' Please tell me Sawyer is with you."
"Yes, he's driving."
"Where is Ray?"
"At OHSU."
I hear a muffled voice in the background. "Yes, Ros," Christian snaps an-
grily. "I know! Sorry, baby — I can be there in about three hours. I have business I
need to finish here. I'll fly down."
Oh shit. Charlie I i 1 i i i ind I mm Chnstian flew
her . . .
"I have a meeting with some guys over from Taiwan. I can't blow them off.
It's a deal we've been hammering oul for months "
Why do I know nothing about this?
"Okay," I whisper. And I want to say that it's okay, stay in Seattle, and sort
"Oh. baby." he whispers.
"I'll he okay. Christian. Take your time. Don's rush. I don't want to worry
about you, too. Fly safely."
"Love you."
"I love you, too, baby. I'll be with you as soon as 1 can. Keep Luke close."
"Yes, I will."
"Bye." After hanging up, I hug my knees once more. I know nothing about
Christian's business. What lite hell is he doing with the Taiwanese'.' 1 gaze out the
window as we pass Boeing Field-King County Airport. He must fly safely. My
stomach knots anew and nausea threatens. Ray ami Christian. I don't think my
heart could take thai. Leaning back. 1 start m mantra again: Please lei him he
okay. Please let him he okay.
"Mrs. Grey." Sawyer's voice rouses me. "We're on the hospital grounds. I just
have to find the ER."
"I know where it is." My mind flits back to my last visit to OHSU when, on
my second day, I fell oil' a stcpladder at ( 'laylon's. twisting my ankle. I recall Paul
Clayton hovering over me and shudder at the memory.
Sawyer pulls up to the drop-off point and leaps out to open my door.
"I'll go park, ma'am, and come find you. Leave your briefcase, I'll bring it."
"Thank you. Luke."
lie nods, and 1 walk briskly inio the buzzing LR reception area. The recep-
tionist at the desk gies me a polite smile, and within a lew moments, she's loc-
ated Ra> and is sending me to the < >R on the third door.
OR? Fuck! "Thank you," 1 mutter, trying to focus on her directions to the el-
evators. My stomach lurches as I almost run toward them.
Let him be oka l i 'him 1 a]
The I It 1 1 ! I I II t I
I i I I i t I ^ I t i I m md out and pre-
venting me from getting to my dad.
Finally, lite doors open on the third floor, and I rush to another reception
desk, this one staffed by nurses in navy uniforms.
it 1 I I i 1 i I i ill 1 1
"My father, Raymond Steele. He's just been admitted, lie's in OR-4, 1 think."
i I I 1 am w illing thei M rt
"Let me check, Miss Steele."
I nod, not bothering to correct her as she gazes intently at her computer
"Yes. He's been in for a couple of hours. If you'd like to wait, I'll let them
know that you're here. The waiting room's there." She points toward a large white
door helpfully labeled WAITING ROOM in bold blue lettering.
"Is he okay?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
"You'll hit i i ill I u. ma im."
"Thank you," I mutter — but inside I am screaming. / u am in know now!
I open the door to reveal a functional, austere waiting room where Mr.
Rodriguez and lose are seated.
"Ana!" Mr. Rodriguez t. • II inn is in a east i li check is bruised on
one side. He's in a wheelchair with one of his legs in a cast too. I gingerly wrap
my arms around him.
"Oh, Mr. Rodriguez," I sob.
"Ana, honey." He pits m hack with his uninjured arm. "I'm so sorry," he
mumbles, his hoarse voice cracking.
Oh no.
"No, Papa." .1 I ! i I i 1 I i i i ic I I i i I i
I turn, he pulls me into his arms and holds mo.
"Jose," I mutter. And I'm lost — tears falling as all the tension, fear, and
heartache of the last three hours surface.
"Hey, Ana, don't cry." lose u I Irol nn ■hair. I tp my arms around
his neck and softly weep. We stand like this for ages, and I'm so grateful that my
friend is here. We pull apart when Sawyer joins us in the waiting room. Mr.
Rodriguez hands me a tissue from a conveniently placed box, and I dry my tears.
"This is Mr. Sawyer. Security," I murmur. Sawyer nods politely to Jose and
Mr. Rodriguez then moves to take a seat in the corner.
"Sit down, Ana." Jose ushers me to one of the vinyl-covered armchairs.
"What happened? Do we know how he is? What are they doing?"
Jose holds up his hands lo halt my barrage of questions and sits down beside
me. "We don't have any new s Ray. Dad. and ! w ere on a fishing trip to Astoria.
We were hit by some stupid fucking drunk — "
I Iries lo iniei n hk i in apology.
"Calmate, Papa!" Jose snaps. "I don't have a mark on me, just a couple of
bruised ribs and a knock on the head. Dad . . . well, Dad broke his wrist and ankle.
I n die r h I issenger side nd R ly
Oh no, no . . . Panic swamps my limbic system again. No, no, no. My body
shudders and chilis as 1 imagine u hat's happening lo Rax in the ( )R.
"He's in surgery. We were taken to the community hospital in Astoria, but
they airlifted Ray here. We don't know what they're doing. We're waiting for
"Hey, Ana, you cold?"
provides warmth, (iingerh . .lose pulls off his leather jacket and wraps it around
my shoulders.
"Shall I get you some tea, ma'am?" Sawyer is by my side. 1 nod gratefully.
in< isappears Iron the > i
"Why were you fishing in Astoria?" I ask.
Jose shrugs. "The fishing's supposed to be good there. We were having a
boy s' gel-together. Some bonding time with my old man before acadentia heals
up for my final year." Jose's dark eyes are large and luminous with fear and
"You could have been hurt, too. And Mr. Rodriguez . . . worse." I gulp at the
thought. My body temperature drop* further, and ! shier once more. Jose takes
my hand.
"Hell, Ana, you're freezing."
Mr. Rodriguez inches forward and takes my other hand in his good one.
I I t ! It t ides to a whisper.
'"Call me Jose," he corrects me. I give him a weak smile, because that's all I
can manage. I slmct once more.
"The police took the asshole into custody Scen in the morning and the guy
was out of his skull," Jose hisses in disgust.
Sawyer reenters, bearing a paper cup of hot water and a separate leabag. lie
knows how I take my lea: I'm pti i I it it iction Mr. Rodrig-
i i I I i ise my hands as I gratefully ta the cu| in S
"Do either of you want anything?" Sawyer asks Mr. Rodriguez and Jose.
They both shake their heads, and Sawyer resumes his seat in the corner. I dunk
my leabag in the water and, rising shakily, dispose of the used bag in a small
"What's taking them so long?" I mutter to no one in particular as I take a sip.
Daddy . . . PI
"We'll know soon enough, Ana," Jose says gently. I nod and take another sip.
I take my seat again beside him. We wait . . . and wait. Mr. Rodriguez with his
eyes closed, praying I think, and Jose holding my hand and squeezing it every
now and then. 1 slowly sip my tea. It's not Twinings, but some cheap nasty brand,
and it tastes disgusting.
1 remember the last time I waited for news. The last time I thought all was
lost w hen Charlie Tango w cut missing. ( losing nn e es. 1 oiler up a silent prayer
for the safe passage of my husband. I glance at my watch: 2:15 p.m. He should be
here soon. My tea is cold . . . Ugh!
I stand up and p i Ihei it d. i _ i 1 h h v t'l tin doctors been to see
me? I take Jose's hand, and he gives mine another reassuring squeeze. Please let
him he okay. Please lei him he okay.
Time crawls so slowly.
Suddenly the door opens, and we all glance up expectantly, my stomach
knotting. Is this if!
Christian strides in. Wis lace darkens momentarily when he notices my hand
"Christian!" I gasp and leap up, thanking God he's arrived safely. Then I'm
wrapped in his arms, his nose in ms hair, and I'm inhaling ins scent, his warmth,
his love. A small part of me feels calmer, stronger, and more resilient because
he's here. Oh, the difference his presence makes to my peace of mind.
"Any news?"
I shake my head, unable to speak.
"Jose." He nods a greeting.
"Christian, tins is my lather. Jose Senior."
"Mr. Rodriguez — we met at the wedding. I take it you were in the accident,
too?"
Jose briefly retells the slots .
"Are you both well enough to be here?" Christian asks.
"We don't want to be am where else." Mr. Rodriguez says, his voice quiet
and laced with pain. Christian nods. Taking my hand, he sits me down then takes
"Have you eaten'.'" he asks.
I shake my head.
"Are you hungry?"
"Bui you're cold'.'" he asks, eyeing Jose's jacket.
1 nod. He shifts in his chair, bul ssisely says nothing.
The door opens again, and a swine doctor in bright blue scrubs enters. He
tooks exhausted and harrowed.
All the blood dis t pc i'rom ni> I I tts 1 siumble to my I
"Ray Steele," I whisper as Christian stands beside me, putting his arm around
"You're his next of kin?" the doctor asks. His bright blue eyes almost match
his scrubs, and undei tins olhei circumstances I would base found him attraclise.
"I'm his daughter. Ana."
"Miss Steele—"
"Mrs. Grey," Christian interrupts him.
"My apologies," the doctor stammers, and for a moment I want to kick Chris-
tian. "I'm Doctor Crowe. Your father is stable, but in a critical condition."
What does that mean? My knees buckle beneath me, and only Christian's
supporting arm prevails me from filling lo the floor.
""lie suffered »ecrc internal injuries." Dr. Crowe mivs. '"principally to his dia-
phragm, but we've managed lo repair diem, and e were able to save his spleen.
Unfortunately, he suffered a cardiac arrest during the operation because of blood
loss. We managed to get his heart going again, but this remains a concern.
However, our gravest concern is that he suffered severe contusions to the head,
and die MRI shows dint he has swelling in his brain. We'e induced a coma to
keep him quiet and still w hilc w e moniloi die brain swelling."
Brain damage'! No.
" It's standard procedure in these cases. For now, we just have to wait and
"And what's the pi mosis Christian asks coolly,
complete rccoery. but "dial's in < iod's hand-, now ."
"That depends on how hi-- brain responds. Usuallx seenly-two to ninety-six
Oh, so long! "Can I see him?" I whisper.
"Yes. you should be able lo see him in about half an hour, lie's been taken to
the ICU on the sixth floor."
"Thank you, Doctor."
Dr. Crowe nods, turns and leaves us.
"Well, he's alixe." I v. hisper lo Christian. nd tiie tears start lo roll down my
"Sit down," Christian orders gently.
"Papa, I think we should go. You need to rest. We won't know anything for a
while," Jose murmurs to Mr. Rodriguez who gazes blankly at his son. "We can
come back this evening, after you've rested. That's okay, isn't it, Ana?" Jose
turns, imploring mc.
"Of course."
"Arc you staying in foil land?" t. liristian asks. Jose nods.
"Do you need a ride home?"
Jose frowns. "I was going to order a cab."
""Luke can take you."
Sawyer stands, and Jose looks confused.
"Luke Sawyer," I murmur in clarification.
"Oh . . . Sure. Yeah, we'd appreciate it. Thanks, Christian."
Standing. 1 hug Mr. Rodriguez and Jose in quick succession.
"Slay strong. Ana." Jose whispers in my car. "He's a fit and healthy man.
"I hope so " I lu i I releasing Inn I li off his jacket hand
"Keep it, if you're still cold."
'"No. I'm okay. Thanks." Glancing nervously up al Christian, i see that lie's
regarding us impassively. Christian take:, my hand.
"If there's am change. I'll lei you know right away." 1 say as Jose pushes his
father's wheelchair toward the door Sawyer is holding open.
1 i 1 icz raise han i 1 pause in th t 111 i
my prayers, Ana." His voice wavers. "It's been so good to reconnect with him
alter all these years. He's become a good friend."
"You're pale. Come here." He sits down on the chair and pulls me on to his lap,
folding mc into his arms again, and 1 go willingly. I snuggle up against him. fcel-
n t i ! lepfalher's n n i 1 1 my husband is here
to comfort mc. He gently strokes my hair and holds my hand.
He grins. "Oh, she was yar," he says, quiet pride in his voice. It makes me
smile properly for the first lime in <everal hours, and I glance at him. puzzled.
"Yar?"
"It's a line from The Philadelphia Story. Grace's favorite film."
"I don't know it."
"I think 1 have ii on Blu-Ray at home. We can watch it and make out." He
kisses my hair and I smile once more.
"Can I persuade on to eat something?" he asks.
My smile disappears. "Not now. I want to see Ray first."
His shoulders slump, but he doesn't push me
"How were the Taiwanese?"
"Amenable," he says.
"Amenable how?"
"They let my buy their shipyard for less than the price 1 was willing to pay."
He's bought a shipyard! "That's good?"
"Yes. That's good."
"But I thought you had a shipyard, over here."
"I do. We're going to use that to do the fitting-out. Build the hulls in the Far
East. It's cheaper."
Oh. "What about the workforce at the shipyard here?"
"We'll rcdcplo c sh e al i 1 p rcdunda to i minimum." He
kisses my hair. "Shall we check on Ray'.'" he asks, his voice soft.
The ICU on the sixth floor is a stark, sterile, functional ward with whispered
voices and bleeping machinery. Four patients are each housed in their own
separate hi-tech area. Ray is at the far end.
Daddy.
He looks so small in his large bed, surrounded by all this technology. It's a
shock. My dad has never been so diminished. There's a tube in his mouth, and
various lines pass through drips into a needle in each arm. A small clamp is at-
tached to his finger. I wonder vaguely what that's for. His leg is on top of the
sheets, encased in a blue cast. A monitor displays his heart rate: beep, beep, beep,
ill i i I stead 1 1 I kn I in s low nd him. His chest
is covered in a large, pristine bandage that disappears beneath the thin sheet that
protects his modesty.
Daddy.
alor. lis noise is wea ing w illi the beep. beep, beep of his hear: monitor into a per-
cussive rhythmic heal. Sucking, expelling, sucking, expelling, sucking, expelling
in time with the beeps. There are four lines on the screen of his heart monitor,
each nun ing steadily across, demonstrating clearly that Ray is still with us.
Oh, Daddy.
Even though hi h is distorted b> I Hi H i c he looks peaceful,
lying there fast asleep.
A petite young nurse stands to one side, checking his monitors.
"Can I touch him?" I ask her. tentatively reaching for his hand.
1 Ml h 1 I ] ill I i ! LI ' I I I i 1
twenties. She's blonde with dark, dark eyes.
Christian stands al the end of the bed. watching me carefully as I clasp Ray's
hand. It's surprising!;, warm, and that's my undoing. ! sink on to the chair by the
bed, place my head gently against Ray's arm, and start to sob.
"Oh, Daddy. Please get better," 1 whisper. "Please."
( i i i i han i> ■shoulder ai reassurii ic
"All Mr. Steele's vitals are good," Nurse Kellie says quietly.
"Thank you." Christian murmur-. 1 glance up in lime to sec her gape. She's
finally gotten a good look at my husband. I don't care. She can gape at Christian
all she likes as long as she makes im father well again.
"Can he hear me?" 1 ask.
"He's in a deep sleep. But who knows?"
"Can I sit for a while?"
"Sure thing." She smiles at me. her check:- pink from a telltale blush. Incon-
gruously, I find myself thinking blond is not her true color.
Christian gazes down at me, ignoring her. "I need to make a call. I'll be out-
side. Til give you some alone lime with your dark"! nod. lie kisses my hair and
walks out of the room. 1 hold Ray's hand, man cling ai the irony that it's only
now when he's unconscious and can't heat nie thai I really want to tell him how
thought about it until now. I'm not flesh of his flesh, but he's my dad, and I love
him so very much. M tears trail down nn cheek-., rieaw please get better.
Very quietly so is not to lislurl i . , 1 tell him ib ui out weekend in
Aspen and about last weekend when we were soaring and sailing aboard The
Grace. I tell him about our new house, our plans, about how we hope to make it
ecologically sustainable. I promise to take him with us to Aspen so he can go fish-
ing with Christian ii i ii ii i i I i s L u ill both be wel-
come, too. Please be here to do that, Daddy. Please.
Ray remains immobile, the entilalor sucking and expelling and the mono-
tonous but re issu it bccp.beep.be f his heart monilo only response
When 1 look up. C hristian is sitting quicllx ;it the end of the bed. I don't know
how long he's been there.
"Hi," he says, his eyes glowing with compassion and concern.
"Hi."
"So, I'm going I liin '1 uez. and Jose lie asks.
I nod.
"Okay. Let's go eat. Let him sleep."
I frow n. 1 don't want to leave him.
"Ana, he's in a coma. I ve given our cell numbers to the nurses here. If
there's any change, they'll call us. We'll eat, check into a hotel, rest up, then
come back this evening."
The suite at the Heathman looks just as I remember it. How often have 1 thought
about that first night and morning I spent v itli Christian Cirey? I stand in the en-
trance to the suite, paralyzed. Jeez, it all started here.
""Home away from home." sa s Christian, his oice soft, pulling my briefcase
"Do you want a shower? A bath? What do you need, Ana?" Christian gazes
control. He's been withdrawn and coniemplalive all afternoon. This is a situation
self from that for so long, he's exposed and helpless now. My sweet, sheltered
"A bath. I'd like a bath." ! murmur, awaie thai keeping him busy will make
him feel better, useful even. Oh, Christian— I'm numb and I'm cold and I'm
scared, but I'm so glad you 're here with me.
"Bath. Good. Yes." lie strides into the bedroom and out id' sight into the pala-
tial bathroom. A few moments later, the roar of water gushing to fill the tub
echoes from the room.
finally. I gahanize m self to follow him into the bedroom. I'm dismayed to
see several bags from Nordstrom on the bed. Christian reenters, sleeves rolled up,
tic and jacket discarded.
"I sent Taylor to get some things. Nightwear. You know," he says, eyeing me
Of course he did. I nod my approval to make him feel better. Where is
Taylor?
"Oh, Ana," Christian murmurs. "I've not seen you like this. You're normally
so brave and strong."
I don't know what to say. I merely gaze wide-eyed at him. I have nothing to
give right now. I think I'm in shock. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to
keep the pervading cold ai bay . even ill, nigh I know it's a fruitless task as this cold
comes from within. Chrislian pulls me into his arms.
"Baby, he's alive. His vital signs are good. We just have to be patient," he
murmurs. "Come." He takes my hand and leads me into the bathroom. Gently, he
slips my jacket off my shoulders and places il on the bathroom chair, then turning
back, he undoes the buttons on my shirt.
The water is deliriously warm and fragrant, the smell of lotus blossom heavy in
front, my feet resting on top ol his. e're both quid and introspective, and I'm fi-
pop the bubbles in the loan:. I lis arm is w rapped around my shoulders.
"You didn't get into the bath with Leila, did you? That time you bathed her?"
I ask.
He stiffens and snorts, his hand tightening on m_ shoulder where il rests.
"Urn . . . no." He sounds astounded.
I le lugs gently at my hair knotted in a crude bun, tilting my head around so
I shrug. "Morbid curiosity. I don't know . . . seeing her this week."
His face hardens. "I see. Less of the morbid." His tone is reproachful.
"How long are you going to support her?
"Until she's on her feet. 1 don't know." He shrugs. "Why?"
"Arc there others?"
"Others?"
"Exes who you support."
"There as one, yes. No longer though."
"Oh?"
"She was studying to be a doctor. She's qualified now and has someone
"Another Dominant'.'"
"Yes."
"Leila says you luwe two of her paintings." I whisper.
"I used to. I didn't really care for them. They had technical merit, but they
w ere too colorful for me. I think Llliol litis them. As w e know . lie has no taste."
I giggle, and lie w raps his other ami around me. sloshing water over the side
of the bath.
"That's belter." he whispers and kisses m temple.
"He's marrying my best friend."
"Then I'd better shut my mouth." he says.
I feel more relaxed after our bath. Wrapped in my soft Heathman robe, I gaze at
the v arious bags on the bed. Jeez, this must be more than nightwear. Tentatively, I
peek into one. A pair of jeans and a pale blue hooded sweatshirt, my size. Holy
cow . . . Taylor's bought a whole weekend's worth of clothes, and he knows what
I like. I smile, remembering this is not the first time he's shopped for clothes for
me when I was at the Heathman.
"Apart from harassing me at Clayton's, have yon eer actually gone into a
store and just bought stuff?"
"Harassing you?"
"Yes. Harassing mc."
"You were lluslered. if I recall. And that young hoy was till ewer you. What
"One of your many admirers."
Ill I 1 I I It I I e It e
"There's my girl," he whispers. "Get dressed. 1 don't want you gelling cold
"Ready," 1 murmur. I hristian is working on the Mac in the sludy area of the suite.
He's dressed in black jeans and a gray cable-knit sweater, and I'm wearing the
jeans, the hoodie, and a white T-shirt.
"You look so young," Christian says softly, glancing up, his eyes glowing.
"And to think you'll he .1 w In >le > ear older tomorrow " His nice is wistful. I give
him a sad smile.
"I don't feel much like celebrating. ( an we go sec Ray now?"
; I I i 1 i i in i bareh lied our food."
"Christian, please. I'm just not hungry. Maybe after we've seen Ray. 1 want
to isli him goodnight."
Relief Hood
"Sure. We'l
"Well done," I murmur.
He frowns.
"For not frothing at the mouth."