Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,236

have a boardroom of people locked in crisis talks waiting for me.

“Good night, Ana.” I love you.

“Good night, Christian.” I hang up before she can, thinking about all those times we’ve stayed on the line and neither of us hangs up. I couldn’t bear to hear her end the call first. I stare despondently at my phone. At least she asked if I was coming home. Perhaps she misses me. Or she’s checking up on me. Either way. She cares. Maybe. A small ember of hope glows deep in my heart. I need to wrap this meeting up and get home to my wife.

It’s late when we agree on a potential compromise. With hindsight, I see that confrontation with the union was inevitable, but it’s been good for all sides to air their grievances. Samir and Ros will now take the negotiations from here and hammer out a deal. Compared to the battle I’m facing at home, this wasn’t so bad. Ros was an impressive negotiator, and I’ve persuaded her to go to Taiwan tomorrow evening without me.

“Okay, Christian. I’ll go. But they’ll really want you there.”

“I’ll find time. Later this month.”

Her lips tighten, but she says nothing.

I can’t tell her that I don’t want to leave Ana when she’s not even talking to me. Deep down, I know it’s because I’m petrified my wife might not be there when I return.

The apartment is dark when I get home; Ana must be in bed. I head into our bedroom, and my heart sinks when I find she’s not there. Stifling my panic, I head upstairs. In the dim light from the hallway, I make out her form curled up beneath the duvet in her old bedroom.

Old bedroom?

It’s hardly that; she’s slept in it, what, twice?

She looks so small. I flick the dimmer switch on to see her better, but keep the lights low, and carry the armchair over so I can sit down and gaze at her. Her skin is pale, translucent, almost. She’s been crying; her eyelids and lips are swollen. My heart freefalls through my body with despair.

Oh, baby—I’m sorry.

I know how soft her lips are to kiss when she’s been crying…when I make her cry. I want to climb in beside her, to pull her into my arms and hold her, but she’s asleep, and she needs her sleep, especially now.

I settle into the chair and match my breathing to Ana’s. The rhythm soothes me, that and my proximity to her. For the first time since I woke up this morning I feel a little calmer. The last time I sat and watched her sleep was when Hyde broke into our apartment; she’d been out with Kate. I was mad as hell then.

Why do I spend so much time mad at my wife?

I love her.

Even though she never does as she’s told.

That’s why.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;

The courage to change the things I can;

And the wisdom to know the difference.

I grimace as Dr Flynn’s oft-quoted serenity prayer pops into my head: a prayer for alcoholics and fucked-up businessmen. I check my watch, though I know it’s far too late to call him in New York. I’ll try him tomorrow. I can discuss my impending fatherhood with him.

I shake my head.

Me, a dad?

What could I possibly offer a child? I undo my tie and the top button of my shirt as I lean back. I suppose there’s the material wealth. At least he won’t go hungry. No—not on my fucking watch. Not my child. She says she’ll do this on her own. How could she? She’s too…and I want to say fragile, because sometimes she looks fragile, but she’s not. She’s the strongest woman I know, stronger even than Grace.

Gazing at her as she lies here, sleeping the sleep of the innocent, I realize what an asshole I was yesterday. She’s never backed down from a challenge, ever. She was hurt by what I said and what I did. I see that now. She knew I’d overreact when she told me about the baby.

She knows me better than anyone.

Did she find out before we were in Portland? I don’t think so; she would have told me. She must have found out yesterday. And when she told me, everything turned to shit. My fear took over.

How am I going to make it up to her?

“I’m sorry, Ana. Forgive me,” I whisper. “You scared the living shit out of me yesterday.” Leaning forward,