ELLIOT
Laters dude.
Our flight to Portland is uneventful, though it’s a revelation how giddy Ros can be. She’s like a kid in a candy store during the flight. Fidgeting. Pointing. Nonstop commentary on everything she sees. It’s a side of Ros I never knew existed. Where’s the cool, collected lawyer I know? I’m reminded how quietly appreciative Ana was when I first took her up in Charlie Tango.
When we land, I pick up a voice mail from the realtor. The seller has accepted my offer. They must want a quick sale.
“What?” asks Ros.
“I’ve just bought that house.”
“Congratulations.”
AFTER A LENGTHY MEETING with the president and vice president of economic development at WSU in Vancouver, Ros and I are in conversation with Professor Gravett and her postgraduate team. The professor is in full flow. “We’ve been able to isolate the DNA of the microbe that’s responsible for nitrogen fixation.”
“What does that mean, exactly?” I ask.
“In layman’s terms, Mr. Grey, nitrogen fixation is essential for soil diversity, and as you know, diverse soils recover from shocks like drought far more quickly. We can now study how to activate the DNA in the microbes that live in the soil in the sub-Saharan region. In a nutshell, we’ll be able to get the soil to hold its nutrients for far longer, making it more productive per hectare.”
“Our results will be published in the Soil Science Society of America Journal in a couple of months. We’re sure to double our funding once the article comes out,” Professor Choudury says. “And we’ll need to get your input on potential funding sources that align with your philanthropic objectives.”
“Of course,” I say, offering my support. “As you know, I think your work here should be shared broadly to benefit as many people as possible.”
“We’ve kept that goal front and center in all that we’re doing.”
“Good to hear.”
The president of the university nods in agreement. “We’re very excited about this discovery.”
“It is quite the achievement. Congratulations, Professor Gravett, and to your team.”
She glows in response to the compliment. “Thanks to you.”
Embarrassed, I glance at Ros, and it’s as if she can read my mind. “We should be going,” she says to the group, and we push our chairs back.
The president shakes my hand. “Thank you for your continued support, Mr. Grey. As you’ve seen, your contribution to the environmental sciences department makes a huge difference to us.”
“Keep up the good work,” I say. I’m anxious to get back to Seattle. The photographer will be delivering those photographs to Escala, and then seeing Ana. I’m fighting my jealous impulses and, so far, successfully keeping them under control. But I will be happier when we set back down at Boeing Field and I join them both at the bar. In the meantime, I have a surprise for Ros.
OUR TAKEOFF IS SMOOTH; I pull back the collective and Charlie Tango ascends like a graceful bird into the air above the Portland heliport. Ros smiles with girlish delight. I shake my head; I had no idea she could be this excitable, but then again, I always feel a rush on takeoff. Once I’ve finished talking to the tower, Ros’s disembodied voice asks over my headset, “How is your private merger going?”
“Good, thanks.”
“Hence the house?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
She nods and we fly in silence over Vancouver and WSU, homebound toward my goal.
“Did you know Andrea was getting married?” I ask her. This has bothered me since I found out.
“No. When?”
“Last weekend.”
“She kept that quiet.” Ros sounds surprised.
“She says that she didn’t tell me because of our non-fraternization policy. I didn’t know we had one.”
“It’s a standard clause within our employment contracts.”
“Seems a little harsh.”
“She’s married someone in-house?”
“Damon Parker.”
“Engineering?”
“Yes. Can we help him with a green card? I believe he’s on an H-1B visa at the moment.”
“I’ll look into it. Though I’m not sure there are any shortcuts.”
“I’d appreciate it, and I have a surprise for you.” I veer a few degrees northeast and we fly for about ten minutes. “There!” I point toward the barnacle on the horizon that will become Mount St. Helens as we get closer.
Ros actually squeals with delight. “You changed the flight plan?”
“Just for you.”
As we fly nearer, the mountain looms over the landscape. It looks like a child’s drawing of a volcano, tipped with snow, craggy at the top, and nestled within the lush green forest of Gifford National Park.
“Wow! It’s so much bigger than I thought,” says Ros as we get nearer.
It’s an impressive sight.
I bank slowly and we circle the crater, which is no longer complete. The north wall has gone, a casualty of the 1980 eruption. It looks eerily deserted and otherworldly from up here; the scars of the last eruption are still obvious, running down the mountain, displacing the forest and defacing the landscape beneath it.
“This is amazing. Gwen and I have been meaning to bring the kids to see this place. I wonder if it will erupt again?” Ros speculates, as she snaps photos with her phone.
“I have no idea, but let’s head home now that you’ve seen it.”
“Good idea, and thank you.” Ros gives me a grateful smile, her eyes shining.
I veer west following the South Fork Toutle River. We should be back at Boeing Field in forty-five minutes, which will give me plenty of time to join Ana, the photographer, and Elliot for drinks.
Out of the corner of my eye I see the master caution light flicker.
What the fuck?
The fire light in the engine T-handle flashes, and Charlie Tango dips.
Shit. We have a fire in engine one. I take a deep breath but smell nothing. Quickly, I execute an S-turn to see if I can see smoke. A trail of gray fog lingers in our flight path.
“What’s wrong? What is it?” Ros asks.
“I don’t want you to panic. We have a fire in one of the engines.”
“What!” She clutches her purse and her seat. I shut engine number one down and blow the first fire bottle while deciding whether to land or carry on with one engine. Charlie Tango is equipped to fly with a single engine…
I want to get home.
I give the landscape a quick sweep, looking for a safe place to land, should we need to. We’re a little low, but I can see a lake in the distance—Silver Lake, I think. It’s clear of trees at the southeast end.
I’m about to radio a distress signal when the second engine fire light flashes.
Motherfucking hell!
My anxiety balloons and I clench my fingers around the collective.
Fuck. Focus, Grey.
Smoke filters into the cabin and I open my windows and quickly check all the instrument stats. The dash is lighting up like fucking Christmas. And it may be that the electronics are failing. I have no choice. We’re going to have to land. And I have a split second to decide whether to kill the engine or keep it going to get us down.
I hope to Christ I can do this. Sweat beads on my brow and I dash it away with my hand. “Hang on, Ros. This is going to get rough.”
Ros makes a wailing sound, but I ignore her.
We’re low. Too low.
But maybe we have time. That’s all I need. Some time. Before she blows.
I lower the collective and reduce the throttle to idle and we autorotate, diving down, and I’m trying to maintain speed to keep the rotors spinning. We hurtle toward the ground.
Ana. Ana? Will I see her again?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
We’re close to the lake. There’s a clearing. My muscles burn as I fight to hold the collective in place.
Fuck.
I see Ana in a kaleidoscope of images like the photographer’s portraits: laughing, pouting, pensive, stunning, beautiful. Mine.
I can’t lose her.
Now! Do it, Grey.
I flare—pitching Charlie Tango’s nose up and dipping the tail to reduce the forward speed. The tail clips some treetops. By some miracle, Charlie Tango stays in line as I increase the throttle. We crash-land, tail first, on the edge of the clearing, the EC135 skidding and bumping across the terrain before she comes to a complete stop, in the middle of the clearing, the rotors whipping branches off some nearby fir trees. I activate the second fire bottle, shut down the engine and the fuel valves, and apply the rotor brake. I switch off all electrics, lean across and punch the buckle on Ros’s harness so it releases, lean farther, and open the door. “Get out! Stay low!” I roar, and push her so that she scuttles out of her seat and falls out to the ground. I grab the fire extinguisher beside me, scramble out my side, and run to the back of the cabin to spray CO2 over the smoking engines. The fires are quickly subdued and I take a step back.
Ros, bedraggled and deeply shaken, stumbles over to me as I stand and stare with horror at Charlie Tango, my pride and joy. In an uncharacteristic show of emotion, Ros throws her arms around me and I freeze. It’s only then that I notice she’s sobbing.
“Hey. Hey. Hush. We’re down. We’re safe. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I hold her for a moment to calm her down.
“You did it,” she chokes out. “You did it. Fuck. Christian. You got us down.”
“I know.” And I can’t quite believe we’re both in one piece. I step away from her and hand her a handkerchief from my pocket.
“What the hell happened?” she says as she wipes away her tears.
“I don’t know.” I’m stumped. What the fuck happened? Both engines? But I’ve no time for this now. She could blow. “Let’s move away. I’ve done an emergency shutdown on all the systems, but there’s enough fuel on board to give Mount St. Helens a run for her money should it go up.”
“But my stuff—”
“Leave it.”
We’re in a small clearing, the tops of some of the fir trees now missing. The smell of fresh pine, jet fuel, and acrid smoke is in the air. We shelter under the trees at what I assume is a safe distance from Charlie Tango, and I scratch my head.
Both engines?
It’s rare for both to go. Bringing Charlie Tango down intact and using the fire extinguisher means her engines are preserved and we can find out what went wrong.
But a postmortem and crash analysis is for another time, and for the FAA. Right now, Ros and I have to decide what to do.
I wipe my forehead with my jacket sleeve, and I realize I’m sweating like a fucking pig.
“At least I have my purse and my phone,” Ros mutters. “Shit. I don’t have a signal.” She holds her phone skyward, searching for service. “Do you? Will someone come and rescue us?”
“I didn’t have time for a distress call.”
“That’s a no, then.” Her face falls.
I grab my phone from my inside pocket, and I’m cheered when I hear the rattle of Ana’s gift, but I don’t have time to think about that, now. I just know I have to get back to her.
“When I don’t report in, they’ll know we’re missing. The FAA has our flight plan.” My phone has no signal either but I check the GPS on the off chance that it’s working and set to our current position.
“Do you want to stay or go?”
Ros looks nervously around at our rugged surroundings. “I’m a city girl, Christian. There are all kinds of wild animals out here. Let’s go.”
“We’re on the south side of the lake. We’re a couple of hours from the road. Maybe we can get help there.”
Ros starts in heels but is barefoot by the time we hit the road and it makes our progress slow. Fortunately, the ground is soft, but not so the road.
“There’s a visitors’ center along here.” I inform her. “We could get help there.”
“They’re probably closed. It’s after five,” Ros says, her voice wavering. We’re both sweating and in need of water. She’s had enough, and I’m beginning to wish we’d stayed near Charlie Tango. But who knows how long it would have taken for the authorities to find us?
My watch says 5:25 p.m.
“Do you want to stay here and wait?” I ask Ros.
“No way.” She hands me her shoes. “Can you?” She makes a snapping-twig motion with her fists.
“You want me to break the heels off? They’re Manolos.”
“Please, just do it.”
“Okay.” Feeling that my manhood is on trial, I use all my strength to snap off the first heel. It gives after a moment or two, as does the second. “Here. I’ll get you a new pair when we’re home.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
She puts on her shoes once more and we set off down the road.
“How much money do you have?” I ask.
“On me? About two hundred dollars.”
“I have about four hundred. Let’s see if we can hitch a ride.”
WE MAKE FREQUENT STOPS to rest Ros’s feet. I offer to carry her at one point, but she refuses. She’s quiet but resilient. I’m grateful that she’s held it together and not succumbed to panic, but I don’t know how long that will last.
We’re taking a rest break when we hear the thumping rumble of a semi. I stick my thumb out in the hopes that the vehicle will stop. Sure enough, we hear a grinding of gears and the gleaming rig comes to a standstill a few feet away, the engine rumbling on, growling, waiting for us.
“Looks like we got a ride.” I flash a grin at Ros, trying to keep her buoyant. Her smile is thin, but it’s a smile. I help her to her feet and almost carry her to the passenger door. A bearded young guy in a Seahawks cap opens the passenger door from the inside. “You folks okay?” he asks.
“We’ve had better days. Where you heading?”
“I’m taking this empty box back to Seattle.”
“That’s where we’re going. Will you give us a ride?”
“Sure thing. Climb aboard.”
Ros frowns and whispers, “I would never do this if I was on my own.” I help Ros to scramble up and I follow her into the cab. It’s clean and smells of new car and pine forest, though I suspect that’s from the air freshener hanging from a hook on the dash.
“What you folks doing down here?” the guy asks, as Ros settles on the comfortable-looking couch at the back of the cabin. It looks brand-new.
I glance at Ros, who gives me a small shake of her head.
“We’re lost. You know.” I keep my answer vague.
“Okay,” he says, and I know he doesn’t believe us, but he puts the beast into gear and we rumble off in the direction of Seattle.
“Name’s Seb,” he says.
“Ros.”
“Christian.”
He leans over and shakes our hands in turn. “You guys thirsty?” he asks.
“Yes,” we both say at once.
“Back of the cabin there’s a small fridge. Should find some San Pellegrino in there.”
San Pellegrino?
Ros retrieves two bottles and we drink gratefully. I never knew sparkling water could taste so good.
I notice a microphone hanging from above.
“CB radio?” I ask.
“Yep. But it’s not working. It’s new. Damn thing.” He gives it a frustrated knock with his knuckles. “Whole rig is new. This is her maiden voyage.”
That’s why he’s driving so slowly.
I check the time. It’s 7:35. My phone is dead. As is Ros’s. Damn.
“Do you have a mobile?” I ask Seb.
“No way. I want my ex-wife to leave me alone. When I’m out in the cab it’s just me and the road.”
I nod.
Fuck. Ana might be worried. But I’ll worry her more if I tell her what’s happened before she sees me. And she’s probably at the bar. With José Rodriguez. I hope Elliot and Katherine will keep an eye on him.
Feeling glum and a little helpless, I stare out at the scenery. We’ll shortly be on I-5, and on our way home.
“You guys hungry? I have some kale and quinoa wraps in the fridge left over from my lunch.”
“That’s mighty hospitable. Thank you, Seb.”
“You folks mind a little music while we drive?” he asks when we’ve finished his lunch.
Oh, hell.
“Sure,” says Ros, but I hear her uncertainty.
Seb has Sirius on his radio and he turns it to a jazz station. The mellow notes of Charlie Parker’s saxophone playing “All the Things You Are” fill the cab.
“All The Things You Are.”
Ana. Is she missing me?
I’m on the road with a kale-and-quinoa-eating trucker who listens to cool jazz. This is not how I expected my day to go. I give Ros a brief look. She’s sunk onto the couch and is fast asleep. I breathe a sigh of relief and close my eyes.
If I hadn’t been able to land.
Jesus. Ros’s family would have been devastated.
Both engines?
What is the likelihood?
And Charlie Tango had just had all her routine checks.
Something doesn’t add up.
The rumble of the truck goes on and on and on. Billie Holiday is singing. Her voice is soothing, like a lullaby. “You’re My Thrill.”
Charlie Tango is hurtling to the ground.
I’m pulling back on the collective.
No. No. No.
There’s a woman screaming.
Screaming.
Ana. Screaming.
No.
There’s smoke. Choking smoke.
And we’re hurtling down.
I can’t stop this.
Ana is screaming.
No. No. No.
And Charlie Tango hits the ground.
Nothing.
Black.
Silence.
Nothing.
I wake suddenly, gasping. It’s dark, except for the occasional light on the freeway. I’m in the cab.
“Hey.” It’s Seb.
“Sorry, I must have fallen asleep.”
“No problem. You two must be bushed. Your friend is still asleep.” Ros is out on the couch behind us.
“Where are we?”
“Allentown.”
“What? Great.” I peer out and we’re still on I-5, but the lights of Seattle are in the distance. Cars whiz past us. This has to be the slowest piece of transport I have ever traveled in. “Where are you heading in Seattle?”
“The docks. Pier 46.”
“Right. Could you drop us in town? We can pick up a cab.”
“No problem.”
“So have you always done this?”
“No. I’ve done a little of everything. But this truck. This one is mine and I’m working for myself.”
“Ah. An entrepreneur.”
“Exactly.”
“I do a little of that myself.”
“One day I’d like to own a fleet of these.” He slaps his hands on the wheel.
“I hope you do.”
SEB DROPS US AT Union Station.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” says Ros as we climb out of his truck.
I hand him four hundred dollars.
“I can’t take your money, Christian,” Seb says, holding up his hand and refusing the cash.
“In that case, here’s my card.” From my wallet, I give him my card. “Call me. And we can talk about the fleet you want to own.”
“Sure thing,” says Seb, without looking at my card. “Nice meeting you folks.”
“Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.” And with that, I shut the door and we wave him away.
“Can you believe that guy?” Ros asks.
“Thank God he turned up. Let’s get a cab.”
IT TAKES US TWENTY minutes to get to Ros’s place, which, fortunately, is near Escala.
“Next time we go to Portland, can we take the train?”
“Sure thing.”
“You did good, Christian.”
“So did you.”
“I’ll call Andrea and let her know we’re safe.”
“Andrea?”
“She can call your family. I’m sure they’re worried. I’ll see you tomorrow at your birthday party.”
My family? They don’t worry about me. “See you then.”
She leans across and kisses my cheek. “Good night.” I’m touched. It’s the first time she’s ever done that.
I watch her walk through the courtyard of her apartment building.
“Ros!” I hear Gwen’s screech as she comes barreling out of the double doors of the entryway and scoops Ros up in her embrace.
I wave and order the cab to take me around the corner.
THERE ARE PHOTOGRAPHERS OUTSIDE of my apartment building. Something must be going on. I pay the driver, get out of the cab, and keep my head down as I walk through the front door.
“There he is!”
“Christian Grey.”
“He’s here!”
The flashes dazzle me, but I manage to get inside relatively unscathed. Surely they’re not here for me? Maybe they are, or is it someone else who’s in the building tonight that’s worthy of this kind of attention? Fortunately, the elevator is free. Once inside, I take off my shoes and socks. My feet are sore, and it’s a relief to be barefoot. I look at my shoes. I probably won’t wear them again.
Poor Ros. She’s going to have some blisters tomorrow.
I don’t imagine Ana will be home. She’s probably still at the bar. I’ll go find her once I’ve swapped the battery on my phone, changed my shirt, and maybe had a shower. I take off my jacket as the doors to the elevator open and step into the foyer.
The television is blaring from the TV room.
Odd.
I wander into the living room.
My family are all gathered here.
“Christian!” Grace shrieks, and she races toward me like a tropical storm, so I’m forced to drop my jacket and shoes in time to catch her. She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me vigorously on my cheek, and hugs me. Hard.
What the hell?
“Mom?”
“I thought I’d never see you again,” Grace rasps.
“Mom, I’m here,” I reassure her, bemused. Can’t she see I’m fine?
“I died a thousand deaths today.” Her voice cracks on the last word and she begins to sob. I hold her tighter in my arms. I’ve never seen her like this. My mom. Holding me. It feels good. “Oh, Christian,” she sobs, and she hugs me like she’ll never let me go as she weeps into my neck. Closing my eyes, I rock her gently.
“He’s alive! Shit, you’re here!” My dad comes out of Taylor’s office, followed by Taylor. Carrick barrels toward Mom and me and embraces us both.
“Dad?”
Then Mia joins us. Hugging us all.
Jesus!
A family huddle.
When did this ever happen?
Never!
Carrick pulls away first, and he’s wiping his eyes.
He’s crying?
Mia and Grace step back. “Sorry,” Grace says.
“Hey, Mom, it’s okay,” I say, uncomfortable with all this unwarranted attention.
“Where were you? What happened?” she cries, and puts her head in her hands, still weeping.
“Mom.” I pull her into my arms and kiss her head and hold her once more. “I’m here. I’m good. It’s just taken me a hell of a long time to get back from Portland. What’s with the welcoming committee?” I look up, and there she is. Wide-eyed and beautiful. Tears streaming down her face. My Ana.
“Mom, I’m good,” I tell Grace. “What’s wrong?”
She holds my face and addresses me as if I’m still a child. “Christian, you’ve been missing. Your flight plan—you never made it to Seattle. Why didn’t you contact us?”
“I didn’t think it would take this long.”
“Why didn’t you call?”
“No power in my cell.”
“You didn’t stop. Call collect?”
“Mom, it’s a long story.”
“Oh, Christian! Don’t you ever do that to me again! Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mom.” I wipe her tears with my thumbs and give her another hug. It feels good to hold the woman who saved me.
She steps back and Mia hugs me. Hard. And then she slaps me hard on my chest.
Ow.
“You had us so worried!” she shouts through her tears. I comfort her and calm her with the fact that I’m here now.
Elliot, looking nauseatingly tanned and healthy from his holiday, hugs me.
Christ. Et tu, brute? He slaps me hard on my back.
“Great to see you,” he says, loud and gruff. His voice full of emotion.
A lump forms in my throat.
This is my family.
They care. They fucking care.
They were all worried about me.
Family first.
I step back and look at Ana. Katherine stands behind her, stroking her hair. I can’t hear what she says. “I’m going to say hi to my girl now,” I tell my parents, before I lose it. My mother gives me a teary smile, and she and Carrick step aside. I walk toward Ana and she uncurls herself from her seat on the sofa. She’s a little unsteady when she stands. I think she’s making sure that I’m real. She’s still crying, but suddenly she bolts toward me and into my arms.
“Christian!” she sobs.
“Hush,” I whisper, and, holding her close, I’m relieved to feel her small, delicate frame pressed against me. I’m grateful for everything that she is to me.
Ana. My love.
I bury my face in her hair and inhale her sweet, sweet scent. She raises her beautiful, tearstained face to me and I plant a quick kiss on her soft lips. “Hi,” I whisper.
“Hi,” she says, hoarse and husky.
“Miss me?”
“A bit.” She sniffles.
“I can tell.” I wipe her tears away with my fingers.
“I thought. I thought—” She sobs.
“I can see. Hush. I’m here. I’m here.” I hold her close and kiss her again. Her lips are always so tender when she’s been crying.
“Are you okay?” she asks, and her hands are on me. Everywhere, it feels. But I don’t mind; I welcome her touch. The darkness is long gone.
“I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Oh, thank God.” She wraps her arms around my waist and holds me.
Damn. I need a shower. But she doesn’t seem to care.
“Are you hungry? Do you need something to drink?” she asks.
“Yes.”
She tries to step back, but I’m not ready to release her. I hold her and extend a hand to the photographer, who’s hovering.
“Mr. Grey,” says José.
“Christian, please.”
“Christian, welcome back. Glad you’re okay, and, um—thanks for letting me stay.”
“No problem.” Just keep your hands off my girl.
Gail interrupts us. She looks a mess. She’s been crying, too.
Shit. Mrs. Jones? It rocks me to my soul.
“Can I get you something, Mr. Grey?” She’s dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
“A beer, please, Gail. Budvar, and a bite to eat.”
“I’ll get it,” Ana says.
“No. Don’t go.” I tighten my arm around her.
The Kavanagh kids are next: Ethan and Katherine. I shake his hand and give Katherine a peck on the cheek. She looks well. Barbados and Elliot obviously agree with her. Mrs. Jones returns and hands me a beer. I refuse the glass and take a long draft of Budvar.
It tastes so good.
All these people are here for me. I feel like the long-lost prodigal son.
Perhaps I am…
“Surprised you don’t want something stronger,” says Elliot. “So, what the fuck happened to you? First I knew was when Dad called me to say the chopper was missing.”
“Elliot!” Grace admonishes him.
“Helicopter!” For fuck’s sake, Elliot. I hate the word “chopper.” He knows that. He grins, and I find myself grinning back at him.
“Let’s sit and I’ll tell you.” I sit down with Ana beside me and the clan joins us. I take a long draft of my beer and spot Taylor in the background. I give him a nod and he nods back.
Thank God he’s not crying. I don’t think I could cope with that.
“Your daughter?” I ask him.
“She’s fine now. False alarm, sir.”
“Good.”
“Glad you’re back, sir. Will that be all?”
“We have a helicopter to pick up.”
“Now? Or will the morning do?”
“Morning, I think, Taylor.”
“Very good, Mr. Grey. Anything else, sir?”
I shake my head and raise my bottle to him. I can brief him in the morning. He gives me a warm smile and leaves us.
“Christian, what happened?” Carrick asks.
Sitting on the sofa I begin to regale them with the executive summary of my crash landing.
“A fire? Both engines?” Carrick is shocked.
“Yep.”
“Shit! But I thought—” Dad continues.
“I know,” I interrupt him. “It was sheer luck I was flying so low.”
Ana shudders beside me and I put my arm around her. “Cold?” I ask her, and she squeezes my hand and shakes her head.
“How did you put out the fire?” asks Katherine.
“Extinguisher. We have to carry them—by law,” I answer, but she’s so brusque. I don’t tell her that I used the fire bottles.
“Why didn’t you call or use the radio?” Mom asks.
I explain that I had to switch everything off because of the fire. With the electronics out, I couldn’t radio and we had no cell coverage. Ana tenses beside me. I lift her onto my lap.
“So how did you get back to Seattle?” Mom says, and I tell them about Seb.
“Took forever. He didn’t have a cell, weird but true. I didn’t realize.” I look around at the concerned faces of my family and stop at Mom’s.
“That we’d worry? Oh, Christian! We’ve been going out of our minds!” She’s pissed, and for the first time I feel a tad guilty. Flynn’s lecture on strong familial ties for adoptees comes to mind.
“You’ve made the news, bro,” says Elliot.
“Yeah. I figured that much when I arrived to this reception, and the handful of photographers outside. I’m sorry, Mom—I should have asked the driver to stop so I could phone. But I was anxious to be back.”
Grace shakes her head. “I’m just glad you’re back in one piece, darling.”
Ana sags against me. She must be tired.
“Both engines?” Carrick mutters again, with disbelief.
“Go figure.” I shrug and run my hand down Ana’s back. She’s sniffling again.
“Hey,” I murmur, and tilt her chin up. “Stop with the crying.”
She wipes her nose with her hand. “Stop with the disappearing,” she says.
“Electrical failure. That’s odd, isn’t it?” Carrick won’t leave it alone.
“Yes, crossed my mind, too, Dad. But right now I’d just like to go to bed and think about all that shit tomorrow.”
“So, the media know that Christian Grey has been found safe and well,” Katherine comments, looking up from her phone.
Well, they snapped me coming home. “Yes. Andrea and my PR people will deal with the media. Ros called her after we dropped her home.”
Sam will be in his fucking element with all that attention.
“Yes, Andrea called me to let me know you were still alive,” Carrick says with a grin.
“I must give that woman a raise,” I mutter. “Sure is late.”
“I think that’s a hint, ladies and gentlemen, that my dear bro needs his beauty sleep.” Elliot gives me a teasing wink.
Fuck off, bro.
“Cary, my son is safe,” Mom announces. “You can take me home now.”
“Yes. I think we could use the sleep,” Carrick replies, smiling down at her.
“Stay,” I offer. There’s enough room.
“No, sweetheart, I want to get home. Now that I know you’re safe.”
I ease Ana onto the couch and stand as everyone starts making a move. Mom hugs me once more and I embrace her.
“I was so worried, darling,” she whispers.
“I’m okay, Mom.”
“Yes. I think you are,” she says, and gives Ana a quick look and a smile.
After some lengthy good-byes, we usher my family, Katherine, and Ethan into the elevator. The doors close and it’s just me and Ana in the foyer.
Shit. And José. He’s hovering in the hallway.
“Look. I’ll turn in. Leave you guys,” he says.
“Do you know where to go?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah, the housekeeper—”
“Mrs. Jones,” Ana says.
“Yeah, Mrs. Jones, she showed me earlier. Quite a place you have here, Christian.”
“Thank you,” I respond, and place my arm around Ana and kiss her hair. “I’m going to eat whatever Mrs. Jones has put out for me. Good night, José.” I turn and leave him with my girl.
He’d be a fool to try anything now.
And I’m hungry.
Mrs. Jones hands me a ham-and-cheese sandwich with lettuce and mayo.
“Thank you,” I tell her. “Go to bed.”
“Yes, sir,” she says with a sweet smile. “I’m glad you are back with us.” She leaves, and I wander into the living area and watch Rodriguez and Ana.
I finish my sandwich as he hugs her. He closes his eyes.
He adores her.
Can’t she tell?
She waves him off, then turns and sees me watching her. She walks toward me, then stops and stares.
I drink her in. She’s crumpled and tearstained, and she’s never looked more beautiful to me. She’s a welcome, welcome sight.
She’s home.
My home.
My throat burns.
“He’s still got it bad, you know,” I murmur, to distract myself from my intense emotion.
“And how would you know that, Mr. Grey?”
“I recognize the symptoms, Miss Steele. I believe I have the same affliction.”
I love you.
Her eyes grow larger. Serious. “I thought I was never going to see you again,” she whispers.
Oh, baby. The knot in my throat tightens. “It wasn’t as bad as it sounds.” I try to reassure her. She collects my jacket and shoes from where they lie on the floor and walks toward me.
“I’ll take that,” I say, retrieving my jacket.
And we stand there, regarding each other.
She’s really here.
She was waiting for me.
For you, Grey. When I thought no one would ever wait for me.
I pull her into my arms.
“Christian,” she chokes, and she starts crying again.
“Hush.” I kiss her hair. “You know, in the few seconds of sheer terror before I landed, all my thoughts were of you. You’re my talisman, Ana.”
“I thought I’d lost you,” she says. And we stand. In silence. Holding each other. I remember dancing with her in this very room.
Witchcraft.
That was a moment to remember. Like now. And I never want to let her go.
She drops my shoes, and it startles me when they bump on the floor.
“Come and shower with me.” I’m filthy from my marathon trek.
“Okay.” She looks up at me but doesn’t release me. I tip her chin back.
“You know, even tearstained, you are beautiful, Ana Steele.” I kiss her tenderly. “And your lips are so soft.” I kiss her again, taking everything she has to offer. She runs her fingers through my hair.
“I need to put my jacket down,” I whisper.
“Drop it,” she orders, against my lips.
“I can’t.”
Leaning back, she cocks her head, bemused.
I let her go. “This is why.” And from the inside pocket I pull out her present to me.