Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,22

it. He had an exhibition in Portland. You’ve met him at my place. The night Charlie Tango went down. There’s a series. Seven in total. I had this one installed earlier this week. She has such a beautiful smile.” I’m babbling.

Carrick’s look is warm but guarded, and he runs his hand through his hair.

“Christian, I—” He stops, as if he’s had a particularly painful thought.

“What?” I ask.

“I came to apologize.”

And just like that all the wind is out of my sails, and I’m becalmed and lost at sea.

“What I said was wrong. I was angry. At myself.” His gaze sears mine as his fingers grip the handle of the old valise that he’s had for years. My throat tightens and burns as I search for something to say, and I remember how his briefcase always sat on a weathered chair in his study.

“Christian, this is the second school that has been forced to expel you for your belligerent behavior.” Dad is beside himself. He’s in full asshole mode. “This is totally unacceptable. Your mother and I are at our wits’ end.” He paces in front of his desk, his hands behind his back.

I stand before him, my knuckles raw and throbbing. My side aches from the kicking I’ve endured. But I don’t give a fuck. Wilde deserved it. Stupid bullying prick. He likes to pick on kids smaller than he is. Poorer than he is. He’s garbage, and the fucker’s been expelled, too.

“Son, we are running out of options.”

Dad and Mom are connected. I know they can find some other school. Fuck it, I don’t need to further my education.

“We’ve even discussed military school.”

He removes his glasses like he’s in a movie and glares at me, waiting and wanting a reaction. But fuck him. Fuck military school. If that’s what they want to do to get rid of me, fuck them. Bring it. I lower my eyes and stare at the stupid case he carries everywhere, ignoring the fire in my throat.

Why doesn’t he take my side?

Ever.

The guy jumped me.

I stood my ground.

Fuck him.

Now the lines around his eyes are deeper and the lenses in his glasses thicker, and he’s watching me, waiting for an answer to his apology in his calm and patient way.

Dad.

I nod. “Me, too,” I murmur.

“Good.” He clears his throat and glances once more at Ana on my wall. “She’s a beautiful girl.”

“She is. In every way.”

His eyes soften. “Well, I won’t keep you.”

“Okay.”

He flashes me a quick smile and before I can take another breath he’s gone, the door closing behind him.

I exhale and the knot at the back of my throat tightens and pulls at my heart.

Fuck. An apology. From my dad. This is a first. I can barely believe it. I look at Ana with her secret smile, and it’s as if she knew this was coming. Christian, he’s your dad. He’s only looking out for you. I hear her voice in my head and I realize I need to hear her in real time. Now.

I return to my desk and grab my phone.

Ana answers in one ring as if she’s been expecting my call. “Hi.” Her tone is soft and breathy, a gentle salve to my ragged soul.

“Hi,” I whisper. “I’ve missed you.”

I can almost hear her smile. “I’ve missed you, too, Christian.”

“Ready for this evening?”

“Yes.”

“Council of war?”

“Yes,” she giggles.

Tonight. We sort the wedding. At her place.

Ana opens the door to her apartment and stands silhouetted in the kitchen light. She’s wearing a floaty floral dress I’ve not seen before that’s sheer against the light. All her lines and planes and curves are etched like a fine sculpture, outlined just for me. She’s stunning.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi. Nice dress.”

“This old thing?” She does a quick twirl, the skirt clinging to her legs, and I know she’s worn it especially for me.

“I look forward to peeling you out of that later.” I hold out the bunch of blush peonies I bought from Pike Place Market.

“Flowers?” Her face glows as she reaches for them and buries her nose in the bouquet.

“Can’t I buy my fiancée flowers?”

“You may and you do. Though I believe this is the first time I’ve had a personal delivery.”

“I think you’re right. May I come in?”

She laughs, opening her arms, and I step into her embrace and hold her close. I nuzzle her hair, inhaling her intoxicating fragrance.

Home. Is. Ana.

She is my life.

“Are you okay?” She rests her palm on my cheek, her vivid blue eyes searching mine.

“I am now.” I