Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,247

other stress?” Dr. Bartley gives me a direct look and I flush, guiltily.

“Well, um…the pregnancy?” I keep my answer vague.

“I have an idea that may bring her around, but it might take a while to see if it works. Besides, I’m not happy catheterizing pregnant women for a long period of time. It runs the risk of UTI.”

“Okay, sure. Do I need to leave?”

“It’s up to you.”

“I’ll go fetch some coffee.”

Out in the corridor, my phone buzzes. It’s John Flynn.

“Christian. I heard about Ana. How is she?”

I sigh and give him the bullet-point summary. “She’s expected to wake at any time. It’s just—”

“I know. This must be hard on you. I’m sure she’s in capable hands. I got a missed call from you the other day. I was at my son’s parent-teacher conference.”

Ah. The night of my transgressions. It would have been great if he’d answered the phone.

“We’ll talk next week?” Flynn asks.

“Yes.”

“If you need me, I’m here.”

“Thanks, John.”

“Hello, darling.” Grace arrives during the evening carrying a small cooler bag.

“Mom.”

She hugs me briefly, then scrutinizes my face, her eyes full of concern. “When did you last eat?”

I gaze at her blankly while I try to remember. “Breakfast?”

“Oh, Christian, it’s after eight. You must be famished.” She strokes my cheek. “I’ve brought macaroni and cheese. I made it for you.”

I’m so tired that the burning in my throat moves to my eyes. “Thanks,” I whisper, and in spite of the fact that my wife has still not surfaced, I’m hungry.

No. I’m fucking starving.

“I’ll go heat this up. The nurses’ kitchen has a microwave. I’ll be a couple of minutes.”

My mother makes the best mac and cheese in America—better even than Gail’s. When she returns, the room fills with its mouthwatering aroma and we sit side by side, and she chats aimlessly while we watch my beautiful wife, who stubbornly refuses to wake.

“We took Mia home late this morning. Carrick’s with her.”

“How is she?” I ask.

“Christian! Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Sorry,” I mumble, with my mouth full—and she laughs. For the first time in forever, my lips lift in a reluctant smile.

“That’s better.” Grace’s eyes glow with maternal love, and I have to confess I feel more hopeful with her here. I finish the last forkful and place my plate on the floor, too tired to move any farther.

“That was delicious. Thanks, Mom.”

“My pleasure, darling. She’s very brave, your wife.”

“Stupid,” I mutter.

“Christian!”

“She is.”

Grace’s eyes narrow and she regards me speculatively. “What is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Something’s up. I mean, something other than Ana lying here unconscious and you being exhausted.”

How does she know?

Grace says nothing, her penetrating gaze doing all the talking. Silence fills the room, broken only by the hum of the machine monitoring Ana’s blood pressure.

Fuck.

Interfering woman.

It’s no good—I crack under her scrutiny, like I always do. “We had a fight.”

“A fight?”

“Yes. Before all this happened. We weren’t talking.”

“What do you mean, you weren’t talking? What did you do?”

“Mom—” Why does she automatically assume it was my fault?

“Christian! What did you do?”

I swallow, and my throat burns with unshed tears, exhaustion, and anxiety. “I was so angry.”

“Hey.” Grace takes my hand. “Angry with Ana? Why, what did she do?”

“She didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The baby. It was a shock. I stormed out.”

Mom grasps my hand, and suddenly I’m overcome with an urge to confess all. “I saw Elena,” I whisper, and shame washes over me like a riptide. My mother’s eyes widen, and she releases my hand.

“What do you mean, ‘saw’?” she hisses, emphasizing the last word with such scorn that it rocks me. Did you sleep with her? I recall Ana’s question from…when, yesterday? The day before?

First Ana, now my mother!

“Nothing like that! Fuck, Mom!”

“Don’t curse at me, Christian. What was I supposed to think?”

“We just talked. And I got drunk.”

“Drunk? Shit!”

“Mom! Don’t you curse! It sounds wrong.”

She presses her lips together. “You are the only one of my children that makes me use such vulgar language. You told me you would cut all ties.” Her glare is loaded with censure.

“I know. But seeing her finally put it all in perspective for me. You know, with the child. For the first time I felt…uncomfortable. More than uncomfortable. What we did. It was wrong.”

“What she did, darling. You were a child!” She purses her lips again and then sighs. “Christian, children will do that to you. They make you look at the world in a different light.”

“She finally got the message. I think. And so did I. I’m done