Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,223

leave you to sleep.”

“Thanks, Ana honey. I like that you drop by. Saw your mom today, too, Christian. She was very reassuring. And she’s a Mariners fan!”

“She’s not crazy about fishing, though.”

“Don’t know many women who are, eh?” Ray’s smile is weary. He needs to rest.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Ana kisses his forehead, and there’s a trace of sadness in her voice.

Hell. Why is she sad? “Come.” I hold out my hand. Is she tired? Maybe what she needs is an early night.

Ana was quiet in the car and quiet when we got home, and now she’s just chasing her food around her plate with her fork, taciturn and distracted. My anxiety has climbed to DEFCON 1.

“Damn it! Ana, will you tell me what’s wrong?” I push my empty plate away. “Please. You’re driving me crazy.”

She turns apprehensive eyes to mine.

“I’m pregnant.”

What? I stare at her as a frisson of disbelief skitters down my spine, and for some unknown reason, I’m suddenly at the door of the skydiving plane, hanging over the world without a parachute, about to leap out.

Into the air.

Into nothing.

“What?” I don’t recognize my voice.

“I’m pregnant.”

That’s what I thought you said.

But I thought we took care of this.

“How?”

She tilts her head to one side and raises a brow.

Fuck. Anger like I’ve never felt before erupts inside me. “Your shot?” I snarl. “Did you forget your shot?”

She just stares at me, eyes glassy, as if she’s looking right through me, and says nothing.

I don’t want kids.

Not yet.

Not now. Panic knots in my chest and tightens around my throat, feeding my fury. “Christ, Ana!” I bang my fist on the table and stand. “You have one thing, one thing to remember. Shit! I don’t fucking believe it. How could you be so stupid?”

She closes her eyes, then stares down at her fingers. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“Sorry? Fuck!” A child. What do I do with a child?

“I know the timing’s not very good.”

“Not very good!” My bellow echoes around the room. “We’ve known each other five fucking minutes! I wanted to show you the fucking world and now… Fuck! Diapers and vomit and shit—!” I close my eyes.

You won’t love me anymore.

“Did you forget? Tell me. Or did you do this on purpose?”

“No.” Her word is a quiet rush of denial.

“I thought we’d agreed on this!” And I don’t give a fuck who can hear me.

She cringes, folding in on herself. “I know. We had. I’m sorry.”

“This is why! This is why I like control—so shit like this doesn’t come along and fuck everything up!”

“Christian, please don’t shout at me.”

Fuck.

I’ll be displaced.

She starts to cry.

Don’t you dare, Ana. “Don’t start with waterworks now! Fuck.” I run a hand through my hair, trying to comprehend this colossal fuckup. “You think I’m ready to be a father?” My voice cracks on the last word.

She turns tear-filled eyes to me. “I know neither one of us is ready for this,” she mumbles, “but I think you’ll make a wonderful father. We’ll figure it out.”

“How the fuck do you know!” My voice clamors around the room. “Tell me how!”

She opens her mouth, and closes it again as tears stream down her face.

And there it is—her regret.

Regret that’s writ large in every feature of her face. Regret that she’s saddled with me.

I can’t bear it.

My fury is drowning me.

“Oh, fuck this!” I rage at the world and back away, holding up my hands in defeat.

I cannot do this—

I’m out of here.

Grabbing my jacket, I storm out of the room, slamming the foyer door. Frantically, I stab the call button, and even though the elevator is on our floor the doors take far too fucking long to open.

A child?

A fucking child?

I step into the elevator, but in my head I’m underneath a kitchen table, in a shambolic, grimy, neglected hovel, waiting for him to find me.

There you are, you little shit.

Hell and damnation.

Fuck, no.

On the ground floor, I slam through the main doors out of Escala and onto the sidewalk. I drag in a lungful of fresh fall air, but it does little to assuage the anger and fear that surge in equal measure through my veins. I need to get away. Instinctively, I turn right and start walking, barely noticing that it’s stopped raining.

I walk.

And walk.

In a daze.

Concentrating on the simple act of placing one foot in front of the other.

Blotting out all other thoughts.

Except one.

How could she do this to me?

How?

How can I love a child?

I’ve only just learned to love her.

When I