The long plane rides, jet lag, and the constant feeling of never being settled over the past few months has made me forget how much I really love being home. Besides being surrounded again by the familiar city and the comforting, ever present rain, having long and numerous days where Christian and I can curl up together in front of the fireplace and read a book, or even spend an afternoon out on the sound on the yacht has felt oddly indulgent. Even when he has to go into work, there’s something about just being in our apartment that makes me feel close to him, though that could be because I’ve been using the time alone to talk with Barney from his R&D department to see if he can help me on a gift I’ve planned for Christian for Christmas.

When Monday comes, and I immediately feel an overwhelming sense of relief that I don’t have to fly back to Boston, I realize that I’ve convinced myself that having three days a week at home is enough to feel like Christian and I aren’t really living apart, but even just the first few unrushed days home makes me see that isn’t true. I’m home sick, and now that I know that, I think going back to Cambridge at the end of the week is going to feel impossible. Especially because with dead week and finals just around the corner, I probably won’t be able to fly home for any of the three weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas break. That is  if I can go home at all…

“What time is my Mom’s flight getting in?” I ask Christian as I clear away the last of our breakfast dishes Wednesday morning.

“Not until this evening,” He replies.

“Are you going to work today?”

“No,” He shakes his head. “I’m keeping my phone on, but, physically, I’m yours for the rest of the week.”

“Mmm,” I hum approvingly as I feel him come up behind me. “Well, whatever will we do until my parents arrive?”

“Actually, I have some errands to run this afternoon and I’d hoped you go with me before we go to the airport.”

“Errands?” I repeat, curious, and he wraps his arms around me, resting both his hands over my stomach.

“Yes, some… shopping.”

I turn in his arms and look at him suspiciously, but he gives me an innocent, and extremely sexy, smile, then leans down to kiss my lips. I moan softly into his mouth and pull my body close to him, repeating a silent prayer in my head that the ever present morning sickness doesn’t rear it’s ugly head and break us apart. I briefly wonder if he’s worried too, because he seems hesitant at first, but once I slip my tongue into his mouth, he reaches down for my hips and lifts me onto the counter, pulling me close to the edge so I can feel his quickly growing erection between my legs. A shiver of anticipation washes through me when he reaches down for the hem of my t-shirt, but before he’s even begun to pull it over my head, we hear the ping of the elevator and seconds later Luke steps into the great room, followed closely by Taylor.

“One of these days,” He begins, whispering against my lips. “I am going to fuck you on a kitchen counter.”

I laugh and then take his hand as he helps me back onto the floor so that we can both head back into the bedroom to change for whatever shopping Christian has planned for the day. I move to the dresser to find a pair of jeans, but stop when I see him take one of his best suits off the hanger.

“What are we doing?” I ask, unsure whether or not I should also be dressing up, but he doesn’t answer me. Instead, he moves to my side of the closet and pulls out a navy, knee length Diane von Furstenberg sweater dress, one of the many additions that has been made to my closet in my absence, and hands it to me.

“Wear this,” He says.

“So, fancy errands, then?”

“Fancy errands?” He repeats, smiling again, and I shrug before stripping out of my clothes and changing into the dress Christian picked out.

We head back out into the living room, but as I begin to slip my coat onto my arms, Taylor steps forward and pulls Christian aside. I pause, looking over at them curiously, and when I hear Taylor say, “It’s Welch, sir,” Christian immediately turns towards his office without another word.

“It might be a minute,” Luke tells me, nodding towards my coat, so I let out a long, drawn out breath, drop my coat on the couch, and then turn the news on the TV to get an update on what’s going on on the east coast.

The state of emergency still hasn’t been lifted from the storm, and the past few days has been non-stop footage of rescues, flooding, devastated houses and business, looting and crime, and pleas for donations and supplies. Today though, there seems to be some hope. The snow has stopped, and the transformers that were damaged in the initial wave of the storm have been repaired so power has been restored to a lot of the homes that have been without it since last Friday. Most of the news seems to focus on New York, where the devastation was the worst, so I have to watch the ticker at the bottom of the screen for an update on Boston. It takes a moment, but eventually, I see:

Boston: Emergency crews deployed to clear roads and free thousands of people trapped in their homes

“We would still be there, Luke,” I whisper, my voice shaking slightly as I think of all the people, even in my own neighborhood, who didn’t get out like we did.

“Well, they’re getting out now,” He says reassuringly as he comes to sit on the couch next to me. “Cambridge was bad, but not as bad as it could have been. We should at least be grateful for that.”

“Yeah,” I nod. “But, tomorrow is Thanksgiving. So many people aren’t going to be able to sit down and have dinner with their families because they’re going to have to deal with the aftermath of the storm. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” Luke agrees, and after a few more seconds of watching the reporter on the TV talking in front of a Red Cross station, I decide that I’m going to ask Christian to donate to the relief effort. We can’t be there right now to help those who need it, but we can do something. I got out and I’m okay, because I had Christian. If he hadn’t come, I’d still be there, and with how dire our situation was Saturday, with no food and a quickly dwindling heat supply, I can’t imagine where we’d be now…

Christian comes back down the hallway then, looking tense and a little pissed off. He takes the his coat from Taylor and then looks expectantly at me.

“Are you ready?” He asks, his voice a little too sharp.

“Yeah,” I say quickly. I reach over for my own coat, then take his hand and allow him to lead me back to the elevator, wondering if I should ask him what’s wrong or what’s going on with Welch. When I look over at Taylor though, I see him very subtly shake his head.

So… something bad then.

I bite down on my lip, holding back the questions that desperately want to bubble out through my teeth, and then untangle my fingers from Christian’s so that I can wrap my arms around him instead. He’s still for a moment, but just before we hear the high ping that announces the elevator’s arrival, I feel his body relax a little, and his lips press softly into my hair.

When we pull out of the garage under Escala, I don’t pay much attention to where we’re going until I see Taylor signal for the I-90 towards Bellevue.

“Are we going to your parent’s house?” I ask, but Christian, who is looking down at his phone, simply shakes his head no. My lips press together as I glance out the window and at the water around the floating bridge, but my curiosity is getting the better of me.

“Are we going to Elliot’s house?” I ask hopefully.

“No,” Christian replies.

“Then where?” I ask. He looks over and smiles at me, reaches down for my fingers and brings them up to his lips, and then turns his attention back to whatever it is that has him so preoccupied on his phone. Clearly, he isn’t going to tell me.

“Sawyer, what’s the status on the Cambridge house?” Christian asks, as we pass through the long tunnels on Mercer Island and he loses cell reception.

“Emergency crews were deployed this morning,” Luke answers. “The roads are supposed to be cleared by this evening.”

“Good, then hire a crew to start work on the structural damage first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, sir,” Luke replies. “Though, it may be difficult to get workers there in the morning with the amount of work that has to be done throughout the city and… well, the holiday.”

“That’s not my problem,” Christian says. “Find someone available and pay them whatever it takes. Unless…” He glances over at me and I give him a wry, exasperated look.

“I’m going back to Harvard, Christian.”

“And if the house isn’t fixed?” He challenges me. “If it takes me oh… three, four weeks to have the damage repaired?”

“Then I guess I’ll have to stay with Carter until finals are over,” I reply sweetly, and he immediately frowns, then looks back up at Luke.

“The house has to be livable by Sunday. Do whatever it takes to ensure it gets done.”

“Yes, sir,” Luke says.

“Taylor, where are we on Leila?” Christian asks, and, suddenly, I feel my the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I have to work really hard to keep the look of panic off my face. I look up and make eye contact with Taylor in the rear-view mirror for a split second before he answers.

“Nothing to report, sir,” He says. “It appears as though she’s gone home to spend the holiday week with her family in Hartford.”

“Hmm,” Christian hums disinterestedly as we make it out of the tunnel and he has cell reception again.

“You’re…” I hesitate, unsure if I want to draw more attention to the topic or not, “You’re watching Leila?”

“Of course I am,” He says dismissively, still not looking up at me. “You’re pregnant, I’m not taking any chances anymore. Your safety is imperative to me.”

“So, only since we found out I was pregnant?” I ask, before I can stop myself, and he looks up at me suspiciously.

“I suppose… why?”

“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head quickly. “I just… I didn’t know you were worried about it.”

“You know me,” He says. “I’m worried about everything.”

“Right,” I try to smile, but I’m afraid it’s more of a grimace as I look up at Taylor again. He glances back at me, his expression unreadable, but soon looks back at the road as we pull into the parking lot in front of a luxury car dealership.

“Ready?” Christian asks, excited now as he slips his phone into his jacket pocket and reaches for the door handle.

“A car dealership?” I ask, but he simply smiles and climbs out of the car.

I’m a little shocked as I make my way around the SUV to take Christian’s hand and I glance over the cars we pass by: Mercedes, Bentley, Rolls Royce… even a few I’ve never heard of before but look like the kind of sleek sports cars you see on magazine covers or in spy movies. We head inside and are greeted by a man in an impeccable black suit, who greets Christian by name.

“Mr. Grey, welcome back.”

“Thank you, Lewis,” Christian says. “Is she ready?”

“Of course, sir. Please, follow me.”

I feel Christian’s fingers tighten around mine as we head through a side door off the main gallery room and into another room with polished white floors framed and blinding white walls. It all looks very clinical.

“I’ll have them bring it in now,” Lewis says, “Would you care for some champagne while you wait?”

“No, thank you,” Christian says, turning to me and giving me a sly half-smile. I roll my eyes as Lewis nods and turns to leave the room.

“This all seems like a lot of production,” I say, once we’re alone.

“Of course it is,” Christian replies. “This is really special.”

“You’re buying another car?” I ask, thinking of the Mercedes SUV out in the parking lot and the Maybach in the parking garage back home, not to mention my Lexus back in Cambridge.

“Of course,” Christian says. “I gave my Bugatti to Elliot. The Maybach is fine but I need something with a little more… speed.”

I raise a questioning eyebrow at him, but suddenly, the room is filled with the low groan of the garage door on the wall to the left of us opening, and I turn to watch as a sleek looking sports car pulls out onto the white floor in front of us. It’s unlike any car I’ve ever seen before, low to the ground, painted a matte smoky gray, and has huge black wheels. The engine is extraordinarily loud, and, when it comes to a stop in front of us and the driver gets out, I actually gasp when the doors open vertically, instead of horizontally like I’m used to. It’s like the Delorean from Back to the Future if it had been built by Batman.

“The Lamborghini Reventon,” Lewis says, coming up behind us again. “Ordered from the manufacturer specially for you, Mr. Grey. Only twenty of these beauties exist in the entire world.”

“It’s beautiful,” Christian says, looking down at the car almost hungrily. “Tell me about it.”

He releases my hand and follows Lewis around the car, listening to the extremely detailed list of specifications and features of the car. It takes him nearly twenty minutes to tell Christian everything there is to know and after they look over every single inch of the exterior and interior, Lewis gives Christian a challenging smile.

“Do you want to take it for a test drive?”

“Yes,” Christian nods. “Ana?”

“Uh… sure,” I say, and his face breaks into a wide smile. I take a step forward towards the car and slip into the front seat after Christian pulls open the door for me. Immediately, I realize that I’m never going to be able to get into this car by myself as the door opens so high over my head, I can’t reach the handle to pull it back down. Christian doesn’t have a problem though, and for a brief moment after he’s closed me inside, I’m alone in the car, surrounded by the smell of new leather, and I can feel the vibrations from the engine in my seat.

“Alright,” Christian says excitedly, once he’s closed himself into the driver’s seat. “Fasten your seatbelt.”

“You know, there isn’t room in here for a car seat…” I say pointedly.

“I have cars that can accommodate a car seat,” He tells me. “This is for us.”

“Us,” I repeat, rolling my eyes.

He wags his eyebrows at me for a moment and I shake my head with exasperation, pulling my seatbelt over me as he shifts the car into reverse and we pull backwards through the garage door and swing around the building towards the parking lot. I wave at Luke and Taylor through the window as Christian pulls onto the street, though I don’t think they can see me through the darkly tinted windows, and then settle back into the seat as Christian flirts with the speed limit all the way back to the freeway.

Once we’re back on the I-90, and he has open highway in front of him, he hits the gas, weaving through the sparse, late-morning traffic all the way back to Seattle.

He looks like a kid on Christmas as he revs the engine and glides seemingly effortlessly across the five lane highway, and his excitement is so infectious I find that even I can’t keep the smile off my face. I don’t know how far he plans on actually driving, but we make it all the way to North Seattle before he finally signals for an exit off the freeway. Once we merge off the I-5 though, he doesn’t turn to head back. Instead, he takes a right and makes his way deeper into the university district until we pass a sign that says Laurelhurst. We wind our way through the unfamiliar streets until he slides into an empty parking place on the side of the road in front of a small ice cream shop.

“Come on,” He says, and I give him a confused look.

“Ice cream?”

“It’s one of your cravings, isn’t it?” He asks, and when I nod, he leans over, kisses me softly on the lips, and then gets out of the car.

Once I’ve secured a single scoop of mint chocolate chip on a sugar cone, Christian takes me by the hand and leads me out of the shop. I’m obviously not allowed to eat ice cream in Lamborghini so, since it’s a surprisingly mild and dry day for late November, we decide to take a walk through the neighborhood.

It’s actually really beautiful here. This block is lined with interesting shops, high end stores, and carts with fresh flowers on the sidewalks, and, once we make it a few streets over into the residential area, we’re treated to magnificent views of Lake Washington and block after block of amazing houses, with children laughing and playing together in the streets. It’s winter, so it’s hard to see now, but as I look at the trees lining the road, I imagine that it’s absolutely beautiful here in the spring and the summer.

We make it to the largest house at the end of the block and, suddenly, Christian pulls gently on my hand to stop me.

“What do you think? He asks.

“About what?”

“The neighborhood,” He clarifies, and I shrug.

“It’s beautiful,” I tell him. He smiles and then turns to the gate blocking the walkway to the house in front of us and enters a code into the box above the handle. I look at him suspiciously when I hear the lock click open, and his smile only broadens as we make our way inside and up the cobbled walkway.

“What are we doing?” I ask as he reaches out to open the front door, without so much as knocking.

“You’ll see,” He says.

My eyes widen as we step into the grand entrance hall. There are two staircases curving down towards us from the second floor and between them, a hallway punctuated by a floor to ceiling length window that gives us an amazing view of the lake behind the house.

“Mr. Grey?” A woman’s voice asks, and I turn to the left to see a woman with black hair tied back in a bun on top of her head looking at us expectantly.

“Miss Kelley,” Christian greets her. “I hope we’re not too early.”

“Not at all,” She says, smiling broadly at the two of us. “You must be Anastasia?”

“Uh… yes,” I reply, only just remembering myself as she reaches out to shake my hand.

“Olga Kelley,” She introduces herself. “I’m the real estate manager for this property. Shall we take a look?”

“Please,” Christian says, motioning her forward, and as she takes the steps through the entrance hall into the main room, I stop Christian so that we fall behind out of earshot.

“Real estate manager?” I ask him, and he smiles down at me before wrapping his hand around mine and leading me after Ms. Kelley.

The house is enormous with five bedrooms, five bathrooms, and over 8,000 square feet of living space. Though Ms. Kelley tells us the house was built in 1928, it looks newly renovated on the inside, with the exception of a few rooms that are covered in wood panelling. It’s three stories, if you include the finished basement, and comes complete with a full gym, movie theater, a garage that has multiple levels, and an enormous wine cellar. The master bedroom is the only bedroom on the first floor, but is bigger than the entire downstairs of my house back in Cambridge, with his and hers closets and a bathroom that has a tub big enough to swim laps in.

Once we make our way through the house, Ms. Kelley takes us through the backdoor to view the rest of the property and immediately, my mouth pops open. I’m standing on a terrace high over the back yard, but it isn’t just a backyard, it’s a park. The expansive lawn slopes right down to the water’s edge and includes a tennis court, a pool, and a professionally manicured garden. The terrace I’m standing on is enormous, more than large enough for us to fit everyone we know comfortably, and comes complete with a full outdoor kitchen on the other side of the covered sitting area.

I walk to the railing next to the first set of stairs that leads down to the lawn, and stare out over the water, simply amazed by how stunning the view is.

“There’s a private dock down on the water there,” Christian says, coming up behind me. “We could get a sailboat and spend summer afternoons out on the lake. My parents’ house is just across the water. We could sail back and forth when the weather is nice.”

“You really want to buy this house?” I ask, turning to look at him.

“I do,” He nods. “But only if you love it.”

“I thought you liked the penthouse and being in the middle of the city?”

“I do. I did,” He says. “But we’re having a family, Ana. I don’t want to raise a baby in Escala. It’s thirty stories in the sky and is covered in marble with sharp corners. That place is a death trap. Besides, our child should have a yard and neighbors with children to play with. We could have a life here.”

I look up into his eyes and feel warmth wash over me as I begin to imagine our future here together. Summer barbeques with the entire family out on this very terrace, teaching our children to swim from the dock in our own back yard, Christmases around the giant fireplace in the family room, movie nights in the home theater in the basement. It’s so perfect it feels like a fantasy, and as I feel his hands slide down to my belly, I know we wouldn’t just have a life here, we would be truly happy here.

“I love it,” I tell him. “I love everything about it.”

“So you want to take it?”

“I do.”

He smiles down at me and then presses his lips into mine. It’s hard to kiss him since I can’t control my smile as I continue to imagine the future in this house with him, and when he pulls away, I feel as though I must be beaming.

“Stay here,” He tells me. “I’ll let Ms. Kelley know that we’ll take it.”

“Okay,” I nod, but before he turns away, he reaches up to cup my cheek, again looking adoringly into my eyes.

“Welcome home, baby.”

It takes a while for Christian to work through the initial details with Ms. Kelley and get her the right contact information with his people to start the process of buying the house, and after I’ve recovered from my near heart attack from hearing the $14.5 million dollar price tag, he leads me from the house and back up the street towards the Lamborghini.

“A new car and a new house,” I say as we start back towards the dealership. “This has been quite the productive day for you, Mr. Grey.”

“The house is for the baby,” He clarifies. “But the car is for me, and before I decide to buy, I need to make sure of one thing first…”

I look at him curiously as he turns, not towards the freeway, but deeper into North Seattle. He winds through streets, which are are lined with houses not nearly as nice as the one we just came from, until he reaches the deserted University of Washington campus a few blocks away.

“What are you doing?” I ask, when he pulls into a parking garage in a remote corner of campus.

“Test driving,” He says mysteriously, but, as he winds around the corners, climbing higher and higher into the garage, he reaches over and brushes his hand over my knee. Oh…

The moment we’re stopped in a parking stall on the third level, he reaches over to me, brushing his hand through my hair and pulling me into him so that he can kiss me. I lean across leather armrest between us, eagerly matching the passion he pours into me as our tongues entwine together.

“Come here,” He says, reaching down to grip onto me so that he can pull me over the console between us.

“Christian, we’re in a parking garage!” I protest.

“I know,” He says. “But there’s no one here.” I bite down on my lip, hesitating for a second, but then climb out of my seat and into his lap so that I’m straddling him in the driver’s seat. It’s a tight fit, so he reaches down and pushes the seat back as far as it will go to give me enough room, and once I’m settled over him, I lean down to take his lips again. His hands slide down and begin tugging at my dress so that he can pull it up around my waist and he’s free to grab onto my ass. I feel him starting to get hard beneath me and if fuels the fevered lust running through me.

I gently nip his lower lip and tug it slightly with my teeth, and as I do he groans and presses his pelvis up into me, his hands gripping my ass more tightly. I reach up to hold each side of his face, my fingers running up into his hair, and digging into him as our kiss becomes more fervent. I begin grinding back and forth in his lap and he groans a deep, low sound into my mouth that makes my entire body tighten with desire.

“Is this what you had in mind when you told me to wear this dress?” I ask as I pull away from his mouth and move down to his chin, nibbling my way up his jawline.

“A man can dream,” He says, and when my teeth capture his earlobe, he groans again. “Oh, fuck, baby.”

His hands move to the side of my face, turning me so that he can kiss me again, and as my fingers begin exploring his body, gripping tightly to his suit jacket, he pulls away, and does one last scan of the parking garage.

“No one’s here,” He says, “We’re all alone, and I want you.”

“I want you,” I whisper back.

“Good,” He says. “Then start with my belt.”

I move my hands down to Christian’s waist, clumsily fumbling with the buckle in my over anticipation to get his pants open. As I do, he lifts me slightly off his lap so that I’m hovering over him on my knees, and then reaches around to touch me through my panties. I whimper slightly as I feel his finger flick softly back and forth over my clitoris, heightening my arousal.

“Perhaps I should have asked you to be naked under this dress,” He says, his fingers continuing to tease me. “Of course, this is our first time truly attempting something this public. If that isn’t memorable, I don’t know what is…”

“Don’t you dare, these are my favorite pair,” I tell him firmly, and before he can argue, I finally am able to release him from his pants and wrap my hand around his erection. His breath hisses through his teeth as I grip him tightly and then move my hand up and down over him.

“Then take them off,” He says, his voice husky with need. “You’re ready for me, and I for you.”

I release him so that I can reach down to slide my panties off, but the moment I touch the band beneath my dress, I see the conundrum I’ve gotten myself into for the first time. There isn’t a lot of room for me to move with me settled on his lap, how am I supposed to…

“I need to get off of you,” I say, moving his hands away from me and shifting slightly so that I can climb back into the passenger’s seat, but he grabs me again, holding me firmly in place before reaching beneath me and, in one fluid motion, tugging my panties to the side and thrusting up into me. I cry out as I feel myself stretching around him and then move back so that I can sink fully onto him.

“Yes,” He hisses. His hands grab onto my hips while he slides down into his seat, taking me with him, and then thrusts up into me again. I begin to move with him, rising and falling as best I can under the low roof of the car until my legs begin to burn. Soon the windows begin to fog over, but something about it makes everything hotter and Christian’s animalistic instincts take over. His hands are everywhere, pulling desperately at my dress, yanking my hair to expose my neck to him, reaching around to grab my ass… When I lean back against the steering wheel, using the dash and the door to steady myself so that I can help him hit that place inside of me that will cause me to unravel, he even slides his hand up my body and around my throat, his fingers gripping tightly to my jaw and just under my chin as he pushes into me again and again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I whimper in time with each of his movements and he lets out a low growl.

“Almost there, baby?” He asks.

“Yes,” I reply, my response reduced to only a harsh sounding breath as my body begins to heat and I feel sweat beading over my skin. With his free hand, he reaches between my legs, finding my clitoris with his thumb and masages me in time with his thrusts.

“Christian,” I whimper. “Fuck, I’m going to… I’m going to…”

“Scream for me, baby,” He commands me. “There’s no else to hear you. Scream my name.”

I gasp again, my entire body now reduced to an erotic cocktail of heat and sensation. I’m close, only seconds away, and when he presses his thumb against me harder and begins moving it faster over my clitoris, the dam breaks and I explode, shouting his name as I spiral off into oblivion.

“Fuck, Ana!” He cries out. His hands move to my hips, forcing me down on him until he is as deep inside of me as possible, and he stills, pouring his release into me. I collapse on top of him, panting heavily as I revel in the post-sex haze that relaxes my entire body.

“Yes, I’m definitely buying this car,” He says softly into my ear, and I giggle.

“I think you have to now.”

He chuckles too and then helps me off his lap and back into the passenger’s seat. After rolling down the windows and turning on the defroster to clear the fog away, we take a moment to readjust our clothes and then, with one final kiss, Christian puts the car in reverse and turns us back towards Bellevue.

It’s nearly dinner time by the time my mom and Bob land at SeaTac. It takes awhile after the flight touches down for the crew to the get everything ready for my parents to be able to disembark, and as Christian and I wait in the front seats of the Maybach, I see him glance down at the leather on the steering wheel forlornly every few minutes. I know he wants to be driving his new Lamborghini, but there isn’t room in the two-seated car for my parents.

When the doors finally open and my mother appears on the staircase that leads out of the plane, I open my own door to step out onto the tarmac and she immediately bolts to me.

“Oh, Anastasia!” She cries, her voice laced with overwhelming relief as she wraps her arms around me. “I was so terrified watching the news. Thank god you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” I tell her, attempting to covertly push her away as whatever perfume she’s wearing hits me like a wrecking ball. We’re not announcing my pregnancy until tomorrow, but it’ll be pretty obvious if I throw up all over her.

“Christian,” Bob says, reaching out his hand.

Christian shakes it firmly and nods toward the plane. “Welcome to Seattle,” He says. “Did you have a good flight?”

“Wonderful,” Bob says. “Although Carla spent most of it snooping…”

“I wasn’t snooping,” My mother says defensively. “My daughter is on that plane twice a week. I just wanted to make sure she has everything she needs.”

“I assure you, it’s well stocked,” Christian says, and my mother nods and then holds her arms open for him. I glance up at Christian, wondering how he’s going to react since I know he’s not great with people touching him, but, to my surprise, he steps forward and allows my mother to hug him.

“It’s very good to see you, dear,” My mom says when she finally releases him.

“Likewise, Carla,” He replies. “Shall we get home? My housekeeper is preparing dinner as we speak.”

“Sounds good,” She smiles. “We’re starving.”

Christian smiles, nods, and then helps Bob load their bags into the trunk of the car, and as we make our way home, Mom and I listen to Bob and Christian talk about the Maybach and then Christian’s subsequent excited descriptions about the Lamborghini in the parking garage back at Escala. They’re so lost in their car talk that when we get home, Christian drops my mother and I off at the elevator, but ignores Taylor’s offer to go park the car, deciding instead to park himself so he can show off his new toy to my step dad.

My mother has been here before, over the Fourth of July weekend last summer, so I don’t have to give her a tour, but I do take her up to the guest room and sit with her while she unpacks and we wait for Christian and Bob to come upstairs. It’s awkward being in this room with her, sitting on the bed and listening to her give me a play by play of life in Savannah. Especially when I glance over at the chair next to the door and remember the last time I was in that chair, Christian had me tied up with leg restraints and handcuffs…

Thankfully, Mom doesn’t have much for the weekend, so it doesn’t take her long to unpack, and just as she tucks her suitcase into the closet, Christian knocks on the door.

“Dinner is ready,” He tells us.

“Perfect,” My mom smiles back. We let her walk ahead of us so that I can hold Christian’s hand as we make our way down the hallway, and while we go, I feel a sense of surprised happiness at my mother’s attitude. Even after her heart to heart with Christian last summer, she still hasn’t been the most accepting of Christian and I being back together, and I know she doesn’t approve of me travelling home nearly every weekend from school. It’s one of the things that has me most nervous to announce my pregnancy tomorrow, and I think it has Christian nervous too because, when we get downstairs and I see the dining room, I can tell he’s clearly trying to impress her.

The table is beautiful, set with what must be new china and Christian’s Baccarat wine glasses. There are long tapers in the center of the table, illuminating the fall themed floral centerpiece with soft, flickering candlelight. We’re having Filet Mignon for dinner with salad and spiced pears, which both my mother and stepfather seemed over joyed with. Everything is perfect, that is until Christian brings out the wine…

“This is one of my favorites,” He explains as he fills my mother’s glass. “It’s from my special reserve collection.”

“Delicious,” She replies with delighted approval after taking a sip. He smiles down at her and moves to put the bottle in the bucket at the end of the counter but my mother reaches out to stop him.

“Oh, Christian, Ana hasn’t gotten any.”

“Oh…” He says awkwardly, holding the bottle over the bucket and looking down at me like he isn’t sure what to do.

“That’s fine,” I say quickly. “I uh… I actually haven’t really been loving wine over the past few months. I think I had a bad glass a little while ago and it’s kind of put me off it for a while.”

“Oh,” My mother replies, furrowing her brow, but before she gets to ask any follow up questions, Bob unwittingly comes to my rescue.

“You know that’s going to happen to you with tequila,” He says. “I got sicker than I’ve ever been off tequila one night and now I can’t even stand the smell of the stuff. It seems like everyone I know has a similar story.”

“Right, I’ll keep that in mind,” I reply.

The rest of the dinner goes off without a hitch and we actually end up sitting at the table for a few hours, having a really great time. I can tell that my mother is really trying with Christian again, and, when she asks about GEH, she actually seems genuinely interested to hear him talk about it.

“What about you, Ana?” She asks, turning to me. “Anything new and exciting going on in your life?”

Christian almost chokes over the sip of wine he takes and I have to use every ounce of self control I have not to glare at him.

“Yeah, actually,” I begin. “Christian and I just bought a house this morning.”

“What?” She asks, looking between us with surprise.

“Yes,” Christian nods. “Up in Laurelhurst.”

“Laurelhurst?” My mom repeats, with something close to shock echoing in her voice. She didn’t live here with Ray long, but apparently it was long enough for her to get acquainted with the best neighborhoods in Seattle. “Doesn’t Bill Gates live there?”

Christian shakes his head. “No, he grew up there, but he lives in Medina now. Actually, not too far from my parents’ house in Bellevue. Paul Allen lives on our street though.”

“WHAT?!” I exclaim, turning a quick, sharp glance on him. “Are you telling me that the owner of the Seattle Seahawks is going to be our neighbor?”

Christian laughs, “Yes, but I don’t think team practices are held in his backyard.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean John Schneider, or Pete Carroll, or Matt Hasselbeck won’t get invited to a dinner party at his house. A dinner party that we could also be invited to as his new best friends. Seriously, Christian, woo him.”

He laughs again. “I actually do need to get in touch with him. I’ve heard that he petitioned to have a helicopter pad put on his property but it was blocked by the HOA. I’m going to have to help him find a solution to that problem.”

“I feel like you’re not focusing on the Seahawks right now…” I accuse him.

“Those damn Seahawks.” Bob says, rolling his eyes, but as I turn to glare at him, we’re all surprised to hear the ping of the elevator come from the foyer.

“Who in the world…” Christian begins, but before he even finishes the sentence Ros comes storming into the living room looking livid.

“Christian Grey!” She shouts. “You fired Welch?”

Immediately, Christian stiffens and sits up straighter in his chair. “Yes, I did,” He replies calmly.

“And you didn’t think to talk to me about that first?”

I look over the table and see my mother and Bob exchange awkward glances with one another, and I think Christian sees it too, because he gestures over to them.

“Ros, this is Mr. and Mrs. Adams, Anastasia’s parents. Bob, Carla, this is my COO and partner, Rosaline Bailey.”

“Partner?” Ros repeats in an incredulous sounding breath. “Can I talk to you alone for a moment, please?”

“Of course,” Christian says, taking our interlocked hands from under the table and pulling them up to his lips so that he can kiss the back of my fingers. “Excuse me for a moment, please.”

Mom, Bob, and I all turn to watch them walk out of the living room, but even after hearing the door to his office slam close, we can hear them yelling at each other, and each sharp barb makes me flinch. I’ve heard Christian and Ros get into it before, but I’ve never heard them yell. I’d always thought they’d had that rare, perfect working relationship where somehow they just meshed really well together and were always on the same page. I’ve even made jokes in the past with Christian about how Ros is his work wife, because she’s the only one at GEH that really gets him, and who can talk him down when he gets angry… Apparently, he doesn’t have that same skill set with her.

“Welch was a key member of our executive team, someone who has been with us since the very beginning, Christian. You didn’t even think to consult me before you just let him go?” Ros practically screams.

“Consult you?” Christian shouts back at her.

“Yes, consult me. We’re in this together, remember? You and me. These past few months, it’s like I’m not even here, or you don’t care what I have to say or what direction I think we should be going in. You bought SIP without telling me and then just gave it to me with no warning, I had no idea you were even chasing Lincoln Timber until I got the email with the rest of the team saying it had been acquired, and you didn’t tell me you were going to sell Grey Construction to your brother. Now, you’re firing key members of our executive team and I have to find out from HR? What the hell is going on?”

“I’m the CEO, Ros. I made those decisions, this decision, as the CEO, for the best interests of my company. Welch was toxic and I wanted him gone immediately. Had I been in the office today, yes, I would have informed you of my decision, but regardless, it was my decision. I didn’t know Menke would speak to you before I did. I would have told you Monday.”

“Told me?” She repeats. “Christian, we’re partners! We have to make important decisions like this together, but instead, I’m just left to play catch up while you do everything on your own. Just like you do everything else.”

“Yes, I do make decisions on my own, and we’re going to break profit records again this year.”

“I’m not saying that you’re not good at your job, Christian.  I am the Chief Operations Officer. You have to discuss things with me that are going to affect the operations of our company. I am your partner, not your subordinate. We built this company together, we are supposed to run it together.”

“Together?” Christian spits at her. “Tell me, if we’re supposed to run this company together, why is it GREY Enterprises Holdings? Why is it MY name over the door? I don’t see Bailey anywhere in the letterhead.”

I cringe as Christian’s words echo down the hallway towards us followed by a silence so poignant it’s nearly deafening. It seems to go on forever, but when Ros finally does speak again, her voice is full of venom.

“Fuck you, Christian,” She says, and a second later, we hear the door slam again. She comes back into the great room, her face flushed, and she’s clearly fighting back tears.

“Ros,” I say, getting up from the table as she hurries for the foyer.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your dinner, Ana,” She says, dismissing me. “Have a Happy Thanksgiving.” She turns and walks into the foyer, and I get up from the table to go after her, but the elevator is there waiting and she’s able to disappear before I catch up with her. Christian is already back to his seat by the time I make it back to the dining room, and as he looks up at me, I put my hands on my hips and give him a stern look.

“What?” He asks.

“What?” I repeat, incredulously. “What was that?”

“You know,” Bob begins awkwardly as he gets out of his seat, “We’ve had a long day with the flight, and it’s almost 11:30 our time. I think we’ll head to bed.”

“Yes,” My mother says, getting up eagerly behind him, “We’ll see you in the morning.”

Mom walks over to me and gives me a quick hug and kiss on the cheek and after we watch them walk up the stairs and hear their door close behind them, I turn back to Christian, waiting for him to explain what’s going on. He stares at me for a minute, clearly hesitant to have this discussion with me and possibly challenging my resolve, but when I don’t break eye contact, he sighs.

“Gail,” He calls, breaking eye contact with me and looking towards the kitchen.

“Yes, sir?” She responds. I turn and see her peeking through the archway between the dining room and kitchen, glancing nervously between us as the tension in the room is now tangible.

“Dinner was delicious, thank you, but we’re finished now.”

“Yes, sir.”

He nods and then crosses the room towards me, taking my hand and then pulling me with him into the bedroom. Once we’re inside, I move to sit on the bed and then stare at him expectantly again.

“Okay, maybe I was a little hard on her…” He admits finally.

“Hard on her?” I repeat. “Christian, she left here in tears. Why would you say that to her?”

“Look, Ros is good at her job, excellent even. She shares my vision, I can count on her, and she’s loyal, almost to a fault. But that loyalty is a double edged sword. I didn’t tell her about Welch because I didn’t want to fight with her about it. I’m just… I’m tired of fighting with her, with everyone. I needed him gone and she would have tried to stop me. It’s my decision, my company, and I don’t need Ros or anyone else telling me how to run it.”

“Why did you need him gone so suddenly?” I ask, “I’ve worked with Welch before, on the eReader we designed. He’s good. I mean, you’ve said that yourself…”

“He’s an instigator,” Christian says, and I raise an eyebrow at him.

“What?”

“Remember what I told you on Halloween? The developers in my R&D and Technology department are becoming more and more insistent  that I hand over control to a board. They’re collectivizing, threatening walk-outs… and that sentiment is starting to spread through the company. I’m starting to hear noise from my manufacturing division, fiber optics, hell even SIP has thrown their support behind the idea.”

“So what does that have to do with Welch?”

“He’s behind it. He’s uniting everyone, pushing them to follow his lead. Taylor found a few emails on his server, he’s been talking with everyone, even Jack Hyde.”

“Oh,“ I say. “Well, what are you going to do then? I mean, if he’s already got everyone pushing for a board…”

“I’m going to find someone who understands my vision and will keep their team on track. I’ve said it before, no one is irreplaceable and Welch is no exception. He’s good, but a lot of people are good, and firing him is going to send a message. I’m not going to tolerate insubordination. This is my company and I will not relinquish control. Not after what I had to sacrifice to get it.”

I bite down on my lip and break eye contact with him for a split second, but nod. “Okay. If that’s what you think is best, then I won’t argue with you about it. Just… just don’t alienate Ros. You need her. You need people you can trust and people who have your best interests at heart around you, and that’s Ros. She’s always been there for you, and she wants the same things as you. Don’t push her away.”

“Okay,” He nods in conceit. “She’s taking the jet to San Francisco tomorrow morning to spend Thanksgiving with her family. I will have flowers and a handwritten apology waiting for her.”

“Good,” I nod, and then cross the room to wrap my arms around him. He holds me for a minute and then tilts my chin up so that he can kiss me. I melt into him, smiling a little when I feel his tongue begin to play against my lips, and when I open my mouth for him and push my entire body flush against him, he moans.

“It’s been a stressful night,” He says.

“Yeah, what else is new?” I reply, but he gives me a mischievous look.

“Nothing, which I why I know the best way to relieve this stress.” He reaches down and lifts me by the back of my legs, forcing me to tighten my hold around him so that I don’t fall, and I giggle as he makes his way across the room and then tosses me onto our bed.

Next Chapter

“I just think that Thanksgiving is supposed to be about family, Ana,” My mother says over the phone as I gather the things I need to take my last test before break. “You’ve only been back together for a few months. Don’t you think we should, I don’t know, take some time to see where this goes before we start changing family traditions for him?”

“First of all, I don’t know what family traditions you’re worried about sacrificing, because we literally do something different every year and I normally spend Thanksgiving with Dad. Second of all, we know where this is going… Christian and I are not going to break up, Mom. This is for real this time. He is my family now and we’re starting traditions together. We’re asking you to be apart of them.”

“So why don’t the two of you come here? He can come here. It seems like we’re always the ones traveling, but we’re closer to you here in Georgia than he is in Washington.”

“Mom,” I groan. “He’s got a bigger family and you don’t have the room for everyone. We’re trying to make this as easy on everyone as possible, and, honestly, I don’t know why you’re not ecstatic. You’re not going to have to cook, you’re not going to have to clean, and Christian is flying you to Seattle in a private jet where you’re going to stay in a penthouse with a full staff. You’re going to have a good time, I promise. I want you with me, please?”

She sighs. “Okay, fine. We’ll come to Seattle.”

“Thank you,” I reply, relieved.

We haven’t told anyone about my pregnancy yet because Christian and I decided to wait until Thanksgiving when we could get everyone together and tell both of our families at one time so that we wouldn’t have to deal with the drama of who to tell first or what would happen if one of our parents found out from someone who wasn’t one of us. Unfortunately, making sure everyone finds out at the same time has been harder than I expected. I’ve been fighting with my mom for two weeks now to try and get her to come spend the holiday with me and the Greys’, which, until this moment, has felt like a losing battle, and keeping the secret from Grace and her baby senses has been like a rabbit trying to hide from a bloodhound.

I’ve only been back to Seattle once since we found out I was pregnant, the first weekend after I told Christian, but just that one weekend was almost enough to blow the lid off of everything. After almost a whole day of non-stop vomiting, I spent that Saturday night in the Emergency Room at the hospital Grace works at for dehydration, and we were only just able to avoid her as she rushed in in the middle of the night for a patient who needed an emergency appendectomy. Unfortunately, I was diagnosed with Hyperemesis Gravidarum that night and it has been like a neon sign announcing to the world that I’m pregnant. The nausea has been out of control and, after having brunch with the Greys the following day and subsequently running off to the bathroom because Gretchen set a plate of salmon in front of me, I know Grace suspects something. I can hear the suspicion in her voice every time she calls.

Thankfully though, my Contemporary African American Literature professor has assigned a hugely weighted test for the last day before Thanksgiving Break, so I’ve spent the last two weekends at home studying, rather than back in Seattle under Grace’s ever vigilant gaze. Christian hasn’t been thrilled, but I’m relieved. I know I couldn’t have made it through two more weekends without slipping up somehow.

“Okay, Mom, I’ve gotta go,” I tell her. “I’m going to be late for my test.”

“Alright, good luck. Call me when you land in Seattle. You know how I worry having you flying back and forth so much.”

“I know,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I’ll call you. I love you.”

“Love you too, sweetie. Bye.”

I hang up the phone, letting out another sigh of relief, and then look at the snow falling steadily outside my bedroom window. Winter has pre-maturely reared its head in Cambridge and it hasn’t come quietly. Already there’s close to six or seven inches outside and it’s only supposed to get worse over Thanksgiving break.

After one last glance around my room to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything, I pick up my backpack and jacket, then grab the handle of my suitcase and head for the stairs. Before this test was announced, I’d actually thought I was going to get out of Cambridge on Wednesday and have some extra time back home. That didn’t end up being the case and after the argument I got into with Christian when I told him I’d be here two days longer than he originally thought, Luke and I have made a plan to get on the plane back to Seattle as quickly as possible following my test, which means that I have to have all of my luggage in the car before we leave.

Kate and Luke are both already in the kitchen, eating breakfast and watching the news through the doorway to the living room, when I make it downstairs. Kate is listening to the weather report with mild interest, but Luke seems to spend equal time glancing at the TV and then back through the kitchen window to the snow falling outside.

“It’s really coming down,” He says nervously, as I pour myself a mug of tea and pull a sleeve of saltines out of the box in the cupboard, which is the only food I’ve been able to manage in the mornings for weeks.

“I heard last night that we’re supposed to get up to five more inches today,” I tell him.

“This is crazy,” Kate says. “It’s way too early in the season for snow like this.”

“That’s called climate change, my dear,” I say, as I too turn to watch the forecast. Unfortunately for those who don’t get to fly across the country for the next week, the huge storm brewing just off the coast that will be dumping snow and freezing rain on the entire Boston metropolitan area for days was just upgraded in severity this morning. While I listen to the weatherman list the all the precautionary measures people should be taking to weather the storm, I actually find myself happy, for once, that I’m going to be stuck on an airplane for hours.

“Jeez, you’d think he was predicting the apocalypse,” Luke says, when he finally holds up the remote to turn off the TV.

“It probably feels that way to some people,” Kate says. “But at least in this, the end of days, the mail still seems to be functioning adequately. You got a letter today, Ana.”

“Me?”

“No, the other Ana,” She says, rolling her eyes and then nodding towards the kitchen counter. I quickly scramble out of my seat and hurry to retrieve the thick envelope and when I look down and see my dad’s messy handwriting, I immediately feel tears of relief spring to my eyes.

Ray has been in an active combat zone for months with no access to the mail system, so I haven’t heard from him since the last letter I got back in August. No one has been willing to say it, I haven’t even allowed myself to consider the possibility, but the complete silence has left the lingering fear in the back of my mind that the worst has happened. Now that I have confirmation that it hasn’t, I can’t rip into his letter fast enough.

Annie,

I didn’t think it was going to happen, but by some miracle it did. I’m back on base, safe and sound, and I’ll be able to call you on Thanksgiving. I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to the sound of your voice, my darling baby girl. I’ve missed you so much.

Love,

Dad.

I re-read the words a dozen times, wishing there was more, but still feeling overwhelmingly grateful for what’s here. Unfortunately though, his succinct letter gives me too much leeway to overanalyze every word, and the more times I read what he’s written, the more the joy I feel at holding the physical proof of his safety turns into fear. He didn’t think it was going to happen? What does that mean? That he didn’t think he’d get back to a base in time to call me for Thanksgiving or that he didn’t think he’d make it back at all? Was he in danger? Maybe he was hurt. The letter says he’s safe, but it doesn’t say he wasn’t injured. Something could have happened…

Suddenly, the now expected nausea hits me full force and I have to run for the toilet, but I’m not sure whether it’s because of the pregnancy, or the horrifying images of my father on the battlefield that has me wretching up everything inside my stomach.

“Ana?” Kate’s worried voice comes from behind the closed door. “Is everything, okay?”

“It’s… fine,” I call back. I reach up to flush and then peel myself off the floor to rinse my mouth out. It takes a couple deep breaths to calm my stomach, but once I’m sure I won’t throw up again, I turn to open the bathroom door, only to find Luke and Kate standing in the hallway waiting for me, cautious looks on both their faces.

“I’m fine,” I reassure them again, more firmly this time.

“How’s Ray?” Kate asks.

“He’s back on base,” I say quickly, not wanting to speak aloud all the fears now bouncing around in my head. “He’s going to call me on Thanksgiving.”

“That’s good,” Luke says, “You’ll get to tell him about the baby with the rest of your family. That’s what you wanted.”

“Yeah, it’s what I wanted,” I agree, and then I step out of the bathroom to gather my things for class, still trying to shake the sense of unease my dad’s letter leaves me with.

Kate is done with classes until after the break, so while I make my way to campus with Luke, she’s staying behind to finish up the last few items she has for the Crimson before we head back to Seattle. I’m grateful because, unlike Luke, Kate wouldn’t be able to hold back from asking questions about my letter and I don’t really want to talk about it. I don’t even want to think about it. My entire body feels stiff with a mixture of fear, guilt, and pain, and the only thing I can do about it right now is try to push the thoughts of what my father may have just gone through out of my mind, think over what I’ve been studying for the past week, and try to distract myself by staring at the snowflakes falling around the car.

Now that we know I’m pregnant, even Luke has started to question whether or not keeping Christian in the dark about Leila is a good idea. The truth is I’m not sure if he’s right or not, but Ray is the reason I can’t bring myself to tell him. I’ve always  felt guilty over the sacrifice my father has made to allow me to get into and stay at Harvard, but that guilt has been magnified ten times over since Christian started paying for my school.

My dad being in Iraq, seeing the things he’s seen and living the way he’s been forced to live for almost four years, that’s all for nothing now. If he hadn’t re-enlisted for another two years after coming home the summer after my Sophomore year, nothing would have changed for me. He’s endured this for nothing, and everytime I think about that, it feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. The only thing that I can think to do to make sure that he isn’t completely devastated when he finds out, is to graduate. I have to graduate so all of this means something, and I know in the deepest part of my soul, that if Christian finds out about Leila, that’s not going to happen.

He’s made it clear ever since I’ve come back here that he’s tolerating me being here, but that it’s not what he wants. He wants me home. When I told him I was pregnant, that was the first thing he went to, and even after the tentative truce we made that night about me staying in Cambridge, he’s hinted at least three more times that he’s not happy about the arrangement. Leila will be an excuse, but if she is only here to do me harm, which I’m not even sure about anymore since I haven’t seen her since New York and the more I think about that day, the less and less I’m sure about what I saw, what’s to stop her from following me to Seattle? I’ll still have the same security team back home, would I really be safer there than I am here? I don’t think so. I’m not being careless. I’ve followed Luke’s and Taylor’s rules to the T. I just need to make it six more months. Six more months and I’ll have my degree and I can move home. Everyone will win.

“How long do you think you’ll be?” Luke asks, as we approach the parking lot closest to the building my test is taking place in.

“I’m not sure, it depends on how many essay questions there are. An hour, maybe?” I reply.

“Well, let’s get you there so you can finish and we can get out of here,” He says. “The roads are going to be a disaster getting into Boston.”

I nod and climb out of the car, and while we walk to the Barker Center, we make a plan for getting out of here as quickly as possible. Luke takes me all the way to my classroom, telling me he’ll be back in an hour with Kate and for me to wait for him here if he’s not back by the time I’m finished, and then leaves. Once the rest of the students settle in and the professor enters the room, covered in snow and clinging tightly to a briefcase filled with tests, I force myself to forget about the letter from this morning, about Leila and whether or not I’m making a huge mistake, and focus my attention towards the front of the room.

Unfortunately, the test is much harder than I thought, and I was already prepared for it to be difficult. Nearly every question requires at least three to four long paragraphs to answer and my final two essays are over two pages each. The hour I estimated for Luke quickly comes and goes, but I’m so engrossed in the test I don’t even notice until my phone, along with every other phone in the room, suddenly begins beeping or vibrating.

“Professor Vaughn, what does this mean?” A girl with blonde curls a few desks away from me asks. The professor quickly glances over at his computer, his mouse clicking furiously as he works his way through whatever it is he’s looking at, and then he frowns.

“Campus is being shut down due to the weather,” He says, at last. “Please, finish your exams and then head back home. Any other classes you have today have been cancelled.”

I see some people around me exchange nervous glances, and a few even get up to turn in their tests, despite the fact that they haven’t completely finished. I look up at the clock on the wall and then to the door, where I can see the silhouetted form of Luke pacing back and forth through the opaque window. I’m most of the way through my final essay, so I take a deep breath, re-focus, and then hurry through the rest of it.

It’s nearly noon by the time I leave my class and as Luke nearly drags me through the snow towards the waiting car, I feel a creepy sense of unease cross over me. I’ve never seen campus so deserted while classes are supposed to be going on. The silence around us is almost eerie.

“Oh my god, what took so long?” Kate asks, when I finally climb into the car and we pull out onto the road.

“Sorry, my professor is a sadist,” I tell her. “That test was no joke.”

“Did you do okay?”

“I think so, but we’ll see. Mostly, I’m just happy he didn’t give us any homework.  As it is, I don’t have anything to work on over the entire break and that should make Christian happy.”

Suddenly, the low music playing over the stereo cuts out and is replaced by a flat ringing tone. “Speaking of Grey…” Luke says, reaching down to press the button on the steering wheel to answer the Christian’s call. “Sawyer,” He says in greeting.

“Do you have her?” Christian asks urgently.

“Yes, sir,” Luke replies. “We’re on route to the airport now.”

“Good. My pilot just called and said he wasn’t able to land at Logan. All non-scheduled flights are being re-directed because of the storm.”

“I was afraid of that,” Luke says, leaning forward over the steering wheel to look up at the thick blanket of shocking white clouds above us. “Traffic looks to be pretty heavy, but I’ll have her to the airport as soon as possible. We’ll wait it out.”

“Don’t,” He tells us. “The weather is only supposed to get worse. Go inside, buy tickets for whatever flight is leaving the soonest, and my plane will meet you when you land. I don’t care where it is, or how much it costs, just get off the East coast.”

“Yes, sir,” Luke says again.

“I love you, Christian,” I call as Luke reaches down for the button to disconnect the call.

“I love you too, baby,” He says. “Get to me.”

“I will,” I promise. “I’m on my way.”

Luke hangs up and we both look out the windows at the snow again. We’re on the highway now, crawling our way over the snow, and there are several cars on the side of the road, having clearly slid off.

“You girls have your seatbelts on, right?” Luke asks.

“Yes,” I reply. Kate doesn’t say anything so I glance over at her and see that she’s not paying attention to us at all. She’s gaping through her window at a car that looks as though it’s flipped over the median from the other side and is currently resting upside down in the far left lane of traffic.

“We should stop,” She says. “Maybe we can help…”

“No, no stopping,” Luke says.

“But they might be hurt! Someone could be stuck,” Kate argues.

“There are dozens of accidents on this road, Kate,” Luke says. “The police are all around us and they’re better trained to handle this situation. I have to get you two to the airport. If they’ve already redirected non-scheduled flights, I bet it won’t be long before nothing is getting off the ground at all. We’ll be stranded in Cambridge until the storm passes and that could be days.”

Kate bites down on her lip and then looks guiltily out the window at the car  slowly disappearing behind us. I can see the conflict on her face and I feel it too, but Luke is right. Watching the blizzard brewing around us gives me a deep feeling of unease and I’m already worried about what we’re going to be told when we get to the airport. Even if we do get on a flight tonight, I can’t imagine flying through this mess is going to be pleasant.

The normal 30 minute drive into Boston takes over an hour and a half  between the snow, traffic, and countless accidents we see piling up alongside the road. When we finally do pull into the long term parking garage at Logan International Airport, I glance quickly over at the runway and the fact that I don’t see any planes taxiing over the airfield, doesn’t make me feel better.

It’s ridiculously crowded inside, with possibly hundreds of people sitting on their suitcases or fighting to get to the ticket counter. Luke takes my luggage from me and then uses his free hand to pull me over to the departures board, Kate dragging along in the wake we leave through the crowd. I know, like me, his eyes immediately scan every line looking for anything with a departure time, but each and every row is punctuated with the blazing red letters that spell out CANCELLED.

I look over at him, my eyes widening. “What do we do?”

He presses his lips together in concentration as his eyes dart back and forth between the giant windows displaying the still heavily falling snow outside and the ticket counter, and I can tell from the expression on his face that he isn’t sure.

“I’ll see what I can do,” He says at last. “Maybe if I can get Mr. Grey on the phone, we can work something out. In the meantime, you two go wait over there. Don’t move, and don’t let each other out of your sight.”

“Okay,” I nod, and as I reach back to take Kate’s hand, Luke pushes his way over to the ticket counter. There aren’t any seats left, so we make our way to the only place there seems to be room for the two of us to stand with our luggage and then pace back and forth, watching the snow accumulating steadily over the next hour.

“They can’t just close the whole airport down,” I whine. “How long could they possibly keep all flights grounded?”

“Until the storm passes,” Kate says. “And I don’t think that’s anytime soon.”

“No, it isn’t,” Luke says, coming up behind us and surprising us both.

“Nothing?” I ask, and when he shakes his head, I add, “Did they give you an estimate when flights are going to make it out again?”

“No,” He says. “But we should head home. Nothing’s leaving tonight and the storm is getting worse. I don’t want you snowed in at the airport with all these people around and nowhere for you to sleep. Grey will have a heart attack.”

“Well, if we’re just going to drive home, why don’t we just drive to Springfield? It’s less than 100 miles away and there’s an airport. The news says the storm isn’t so bad once you get further inland, maybe Christian’s plane could just meet us there.”

“It took us almost two hours to get here from Cambridge, Ana. Do you know how long it would take us to get to Springfield?” Luke asks.  

“It’s too dangerous,” Kate adds, nodding up to the TV mounted on the wall, which is showing a news report about over 106 accidents that have occurred on the highways in the last 6 hours. “I don’t even know if we should drive home…”

“We’re going to try,” He says, and he picks up my bag and then reaches for my hand before leading us back out to the parking garage. I reflexively reach down to place a protective hand over my stomach. This is bad… and I’m just starting to realize how bad. I might not get home… This storm could last days, maybe the whole week, and if nothing is getting out until it passes, I could miss the whole week I’m supposed to spend with Christian.

It’s worse getting home than it was getting into Boston. The news report about the car accidents wasn’t descriptive enough in how the number of accidents has left traffic at a standstill. They can’t even get the snowplows through the roads as ambulances and firetrucks take priority getting to the injured victims on the side of the highway, so the snow continues to accumulate on the roads making them a slick, tractionless nightmare. My house is only about 10 miles away from the airport and despite the fact that we’re driving so slow I truly believe I could have walked there and back by the time we finally pull onto our street, we’ve nearly slid completely off the road three times. I imagine my heart rate is off the charts from the stress of the drive, and as Luke helps me from the car and safely back into my house, I find myself wishing I could feel the baby inside of me moving or kicking just so that I would know it’s okay. Since I can’t, I’m close to panicking.

We’d turned the heat way down before we left this morning since we thought we were going to be gone for a whole week, so coming into the kitchen through the back door doesn’t feel very comforting. Kate immediately makes for the thermostat and, while Luke pulls blankets and heating pads from the hall closet, I call Christian.

“Hey,” He answers, the relief apparent in his voice. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“We’re fine, we’re back home,” I tell him. “Nothing is getting out tonight, or probably for a few days. I think we’re going to be stuck here until the storm passes.”

“I don’t feel good about that,” He says. “The news says this storm is supposed to get bad.”

“It already is bad,” I admit. “But we’re safe in the house. I’m safe.”

“I want you home, Ana. I don’t want you there… you’re supposed to be with me this week.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I don’t want to be here either, but we’re stranded.” I say, and he let’s out an irritated breath.

“I’d just like to point out that Seattle isn’t in the midst of a superstorm,” He says. “It’s perfectly safe here.”

“Yeah, now,” I reply sardonically. “Talk to me when Rainier blows.” I wait for his equally sarcastic response but it doesn’t come. He’s silent for a long beat, and when he finally does speak again, his voice is quiet.

“I’m worried about you, Anastasia.”

“Don’t be, we’re safe,” I assure him again, reaching down as I do to trace my fingers over my belly. “Luke is going to watch the flights and the road conditions and we’ll get out of here the moment we can, I promise.”

“Stay inside,” He says. “Call me if anything changes, and just to check in. I’m going to be a mess until you’re on a plane back to me.”

“I will,” I assure him. “I love you, Christian.”

“I love you too. Bye, baby.”

“Bye.” I hang up the phone and stare down at it for a moment. I’m not sure exactly when the airports were shut down, but now that I’m stranded in my house, I can’t help but wonder if I could have prevented it. If I’d been less wordy on my essay questions, or maybe just turned in my test when the people who bailed early did, would I be in Seattle now? I don’t know, and I think not knowing is going to drive me insane for as long as I’m cooped up in here.

I make my way back out to the living room and find Kate glued to the news while Luke stands in front of the living room window, probably watching to see if the snow is letting up. It isn’t though, so instead of letting the sight of the white out going on outside crush my spirits even further, I sit on the couch to cuddle under the blanket with Kate and focus on the TV, hoping we’ll at least get some good news about the airports being reopened.

Unfortunately, most of the news stories over the next few hours revolve around car accidents and a house that flooded over in Somerville after a frozen pipe burst in some poor guy’s basement. By the time the later hours of the night creep by, a state of emergency is declared for the entire Boston area, and Kate and I both watch nervously as Luke reaches into his pocket for his phone, and then steps out of the room to talk to Taylor.

“What does state of emergency mean?” Kate asks, and even though she’s trying to keep her voice down so Luke can’t hear her, I can tell she’s scared. “Do we have to evacuate?”

“No,” I shake my head. “It just means that they’re preparing for the worst. It’s good. It means they’ll have more resources to clear the roads and get us out of here sooner.”

“You’re sure?”

Her eyes search mine, looking for any sense of hope, so I do my best to swallow back my own doubt and give her the most reassuring smile I can muster. “Of course, I’m sure.”

“Ana,” Luke interrupts us, hanging up the phone as he comes back into the living room. “You need to call your boyfriend and calm him down.”

“Why? What’s he doing?” I ask.

“When he saw the state of emergency bulletin, he asked what it would take to get the airport open, and Taylor told him the only person who could override the no fly order was the President. He’s on the phone right now trying to get through to the White House.”

“Oh, good lord,” I say, rolling my eyes and getting off the couch. I head up to my bedroom, knowing this could take a while, and it does. I spend nearly 30 minutes doing everything I know to do to placate Christian, but by the time I get off the phone with him, I know everything I’ve said is only going to keep him calm for a few minutes once I’m off the phone. I have a feeling he’s going to call me every five minutes for the rest of the night. I might even have to turn on Skype when I go to bed, just so he can see I’m still breathing once I’m asleep.

Sleep seems to be impossible by the time 11 o’clock rolls around, though. The wind has picked up outside and the silent drifting snowflakes have been replaced by loud, thumping hail bouncing off the roof. The snow covering everything we can see through the windows is now coated with a bright, shiny layer of ice as the hail and freezing rain pour down over the top of the pristine white blanket. The TV signal is cutting in and out, which is driving Kate insane, but Luke seems to be preoccupied by the telephone wires over head swaying violently back and forth in the wind.

“Is there wood for the fireplace, anywhere?” He asks, not turning around to look at us.

“I don’t think so,” I reply, but Kate places her hand on my arm, and then interjects.

“Elliot always kept some in the shed out back.”

“Okay, I’m going to go see what I can find,” He says. “In the meantime, Kate, I want you to go fill both bathtubs upstairs with water and Ana, you can look for matches, lighters, candles, flashlights, batteries, and the first aid kit.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Just go,” He tells me, and then he grabs his coat off the hook by the door and disappears through the kitchen and out into the storm. Kate and I hurry to do what he’s asked of us, and just as I’m climbing on the dryer to reach the back of the cupboard where we keep the first aid kit, the lights above me flicker twice and then go out.

“Ana!” Kate calls, panicked.

“In the laundry room, Kate!” I yell back. My fingers clasp around the plastic handle of the first aid kit, and after I’ve pulled it down at gotten back on the floor, Kate comes through the laundry room door, holding her cellphone up as a flashlight.

“There’s no power,” She says. “The heat’s off.”

“Well, that’s probably why Luke wanted the wood,” I tell her. “Come on, let’s see if he needs any help.”

We walk back out into the living room and find Luke kneeling next to a large pile of wood with his head in the fireplace. Without the heat constantly blowing through the vents, the house is already starting to feel drafty, so while we wait for Luke to build the fire, Kate and I climb onto the couch and curl up under the blanket once again.

It’s so much worse now that we don’t have news reports to give us storm updates. We’re completely isolated in the house with nothing to do but watch the wood Luke brought in from the shed, our only heat source, slowly burn away under the mantle in the living room. We were able to follow some news through our phones for a while but the cell phone towers must go down not long after the city wide blackout because soon, we lose cell service too. It means I’m completely cut off from Christian, and I can only imagine what that’s doing to him right now.

“Ana, when’s the last time you ate?” Luke asks.

“Uh… this morning, I guess. Before my test,” I reply.

“Come on,” He says, reaching for my hand. “Let’s find you something to eat.”

“I’m fine,” I tell him, shaking my head, but he furrows his eyebrows at me and extends his hands out further.

“You’re pregnant, Ana. You need to eat.”

“Right,” I concede, taking his hand and letting him help me off the couch. There isn’t much left in the kitchen since we dumped all our perishables the day before when the garbage was picked up, but there is canned soup in the cupboard. Apparently, it’s dangerous to cook food in the cans, especially for pregnant women, so Luke pours the soup into a pot, telling me it’ll most likely be ruined, and then takes it out to the fire. Using the fire pokers, he creates a bed in the logs to rest the pot on and then sets the soup over the fire to heat. Surprisingly it doesn’t take long and soon, we all have hot soup and crackers to help keep us warm as the cold from the rest of the house wars with the ring of heat contained to only the living room.

Eventually, I can’t stay awake anymore to try and wait to see if the power will come back on, so while Luke brings in a chair from the living room to put by the fire so he can keep it going through the night, Kate and I cuddle up next to one another on the floor. I can feel the tension radiating off of her as we settle in to go to sleep, so I reach over to wrap my arm around her, pulling her into me to try and give her some amount of comfort. After a few minutes, her body relaxes, her breathing evens out, and she drifts off to sleep. I close my eyes too, picturing my cellphone sitting on the rug beside me and the last thought to cross my mind before I drift off is the imagined picture of Christian, 3000 miles away, staring at his phone in panic, waiting for me to call him.

Whether it’s the stress from the day, the noise of the storm, or the uncomfortable floor, I don’t sleep easy that night. I dream that I’m running along the sidewalk a few blocks from my house in Cambridge, the same sidewalk Kate and I run every morning. It’s dark, which is weird, and none of the neighbors Kate and I have gotten close to over the past few years are outside. The streets are deserted and cold, and the unease of it all pushes to me to run faster.

I take a right onto Antrim Street so I can make the loop back home, but I only make it a few paces up the block before I’m stopped dead in my tracks. There standing in front of me, is Leila Williams, staring at me intently. The same knowing smile she wore in the coffee shop in New York plays at her lips, and as I begin to back away from her, suddenly there are hands on me. I scream but am quickly silenced and my struggles are fruitless against the three men,who have come out of nowhere, dragging me back into a van. They lock me inside, keeping me down as they drive away so I can’t see where we’re headed, ignoring my pleas for mercy and to let me go.

When we finally stop, I have no idea if we’re still in Cambridge and I’m taken into a house I don’t recognize. The men from the van carry me into a basement and tie to me to a chair, then leave me in the cold, damp room. The only thing that exists in the darkness around me is the sound of my own heavy, panicked breathing until a man’s voice, which I vaguely recognize but can’t place, speaks to me from somewhere close by.

“Welcome, Anastasia,” He says. “I hope you’re comfortable. You’re going to be here awhile.”

“Who are you?” I demand.

“You don’t know me?” He asks. “I’m hurt. I worked so hard to be kind to you the few months I got to know you. But that’s all about to change.”

“Please,” I beg. “I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, I know. That’s what makes this so perfect. You should really thank me, you know. Grey has told you over and over again how much you mean to him, how much he’d be willing to give up for you. I’m about to help you find out whether or not he means it.”

“Christian won’t give you anything if you hurt me,” I bluff, but he simply chuckles.

“On the contrary, I think the more I hurt you, the more he’ll be willing to give to get you back. And I expect a lot, Anastasia. What do you think I’d have to do to you for him to give up GEH? I’m sure it’ll come at a hefty price.”

“GEH?” I reply, my voice catching in my throat as the fear his threats induce wash over me. “You want his company?”

“Oh no, Anastasia. I don’t just want his company. I want everything. I want him to suffer. I want him to lose everything he’s ever cared about. I want to leave him desolate. And, I’m going to start with you…”

Suddenly, I’m bathed in a blinding light and the room is filled with a high screeching noise. The man, whose face I still can’t see, takes a step towards me, his polished shoes now visible in the ring of light.

“Prepare yourself, Anastasia,” He says, though it’s hard to hear him over whatever the screeching noise is. “This may hurt a little.”

I scream and begin the thrash against the ropes holding me to the chair, but just as the man leans towards me and I’m about to see his face, another voice breaks through the darkness.

“Fuck, Ana!”

The screeching noise intensifies and is followed by a loud crash, and I’m jolted awake by something hard hitting my body. I scream again, for real this time, until I realize that the hard thing is Luke. He’s covering my body with his, shielding me from something, and while I’m not sure what that is, I start to notice a cloud of dust swirling in the air of my living room, mixed with a lot of loud, strange noises, and the smell of gasoline.

“Oh my god!” Kate screams, quickly scrambling out of the blankets next to me and running for the kitchen.

“Kate!” Luke screams at her. “Get back here!” She doesn’t listen though, and I start to hear shuffling sounds mixing with the cacophony of noises I still can’t identify.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Luke asks.

“No, I’m not hurt,” I say quickly, and the moment the words are out of my mouth he leaps off of me and runs after Kate. It takes me a moment to orient myself, to try and sort through the last few seconds and decide what was a dream and what wasn’t. Kate and Luke begin arguing with one another and when I hear the high metal screech from my dreams, I jump to my feet. As I turn towards the kitchen though, I’m stopped dead again, and my mouth pops open in shock.

The kitchen wall is destroyed, a gust of cold air now pouring in through the giant hole left in the side of my house, and there, in the middle of the room where the dining room table used to be, is a car that Luke and Kate are fighting to get into to try and release the driver inside.

Oh my god.

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