Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,273

on the roof. I take Ana’s hand. “Happy?”

Ana gives me a dazzling smile. “Very. I love it. You?”

“Ditto.”

“Good. I was thinking of the pepper pictures in here.” Ana points to one of the walls.

I nod in agreement. “I want to put up José’s portraits of you in this house. You need to decide where they should go.”

Her cheeks stain that delicious shade of pink. “Somewhere I won’t see them often.”

“Don’t be like that.” I brush my thumb across her bottom lip. “They’re my favorite pictures. I love the one in my office.”

“I have no idea why.” She pouts and kisses the pad of my thumb.

“Worse things to do than look at your beautiful smiling face all day. Hungry?”

“Hungry for what?” She peers at me with the come-hither look that I know so well.

Oh, baby. I can only take so much of this.

“Food, Mrs. Grey.” I kiss her quickly.

She pouts and sighs. “Yes. These days I’m always hungry.”

“The three of us can have a picnic.”

“Three of us? Is someone joining us?”

I drop my head to one side.

Forgotten someone, Ana? “In about seven or eight months,” I murmur.

She grins goofily at me… Yeah. Him.

“I thought you might like to eat alfresco,” I suggest, casually.

“In the meadow?”

I nod.

“Sure.” Ana lights up. And I feel ten feet tall for thinking of bringing a picnic. We have so much space and privacy here.

“This will be a great place to raise a family.” I gaze down at my wife.

Junior will be happy here.

The meadow as his backyard.

I reach out and spread my hand over her belly. Ana’s breath hitches and she places her hand on mine.

“It’s hard to believe,” I whisper.

“I know. Oh—here, I have evidence. A picture.”

“You do? Baby’s first smile?”

From her wallet she produces a black-and-white image on shiny paper and hands it to me. “See?” she says.

The grainy photograph is mostly gray. But in the middle, there’s a small, dark void, and within that, there’s a tiny anomaly, anchored to the gray, but visible against the darkness. “Oh, blip,” I breathe in wonder. “Yeah, I see.”

Our blip. Wow. Our tiny human. Baby Grey.

And I’m surprised by a momentary pang of regret, that I missed this moment with Ana.

“Your child,” she whispers.

“Our child,” I correct her.

“First of many.”

“Many?” What?

“At least two.” Ana sounds hopeful.

“Two?” Shit! “Can we just take this one child at a time?”

She smiles up at me fondly. “Sure.”

I take her hand, and together we walk back through the house and out the front door.

It’s such a beautiful afternoon. The scents of the Sound, the meadow grass, and flowers hang in the air. My beautiful wife is by my side. It’s heaven. And soon there will be three of us. “When are you going to tell your folks?” I ask.

“Soon. I thought about telling Ray this morning, but Mr. Rodriguez was there.” Ana shrugs.

I nod. I get it, Ana.

Lifting the hood of the R8, I gather up the wicker picnic basket and the tartan blanket that Ana bought from Harrods in London. “Come.” Hand in hand, we stroll into the meadow. When we’re far enough from the house, I release her, and together we spread the blanket on the ground. I settle down beside her, shrug off my jacket, and slip off my shoes and socks. I take a moment to just breathe, taking in a lungful of fresh air. We’re shielded by the long grass, away from the world, truly in our own bubble. As Ana opens the picnic basket to inspect all the goodies that Mrs. Jones has provided, my phone vibrates.

Shit.

It’s Ros.

“…Thank you for answering my question, and glad to hear that Ana is on the mend,” Ros says over the phone.

“You’re welcome.” It’s the second time she’s called and the third call I’ve had since we started our picnic.

“You shouldn’t be so indispensable.”

I laugh. “You flatter me.”

Ana is lying beside me, half listening to my side of the conversation. Her brow puckers at my last remark.

“You should take a couple of days off,” I tell Ros. “After all, you spent most of the weekend traveling back from Taiwan.”

“That’s a great idea. I may take Thursday and Friday, if that’s okay with you.”

“Sure, Ros, go for it.”

“Will do. Thanks, Christian. Good-bye.”

I toss my phone down, and resting my hands on my raised knees, I regard my wife. She’s lying beside me on our blanket, gazing up with a dreamy expression. Reaching over, I pluck another strawberry from what’s left of Mrs. Jones’s excellent picnic and trace it along Ana’s