Fifty Shades Freed (87 page)

“Can you feel this, Mrs. Grey?” Dr. Greene’s disembodied voice is coming from behind the curtain.

“Feel what?”

“You can’t feel it.”

“No.”

“Good. Dr. Miller, let’s go.”

“You’re doing well, Ana.”

Christian is pale. There is sweat on his brow. He’s scared.
Don’t be scared, Christian. Don’t be scared.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“Oh, Ana,” he sobs. “I love you, too, so much.”

I feel a strange pulling deep inside. Like nothing I’ve felt before. Christian looks over the screen and blanches, but stares, fascinated.

“What’s happening?”

“Suction! Good . . .”

Suddenly, there’s a piercing angry cry.

“You have a boy, Mrs. Grey. Check his Apgar.”

“Apgar is nine.”

“Can I see him?” I gasp.

Christian disappears from view for a second and reappears a moment later, holding my son, swathed in blue. His face is pink, and covered in white mush and blood. My baby. My Blip . . . Theodore Raymond Grey.

When I glance at Christian, he has tears in his eyes.

“Here’s your son, Mrs. Grey,” he whispers, his voice strained and hoarse.

“Our son,” I breathe. “He’s beautiful.”

“He is,” Christian says and plants a kiss on our beautiful boy’s forehead beneath a shock of dark hair. Theodore Raymond Grey is oblivious. Eyes closed, his earlier crying forgotten, he’s asleep. He is the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. So beautiful, I begin to weep.

“Thank you, Ana,” Christian whispers, and there are tears in his eyes too.

“What is it?” Christian tilts my chin back.

“I was just remembering Ted’s birth.”

Christian blanches and cups my belly.

“I am not going through that again. Elective caesarian this time.”

“Christian, I—”

“No, Ana. You nearly fucking died last time. No.”

“I did not nearly die.”

“No.” He’s emphatic and not to be argued with, but as he gazes down at me, his eyes soften. “I like the name Phoebe,” he whispers, and runs his nose down mine.

“Phoebe Grey? Phoebe . . . Yes. I like that, too.” I grin up at him.

“Good. I want to set up Ted’s present.” He takes my hand, and we head downstairs. His excitement radiates off him; Christian has been waiting for this moment all day.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” His apprehensive gaze meets mine.

“He’ll love it. For about two minutes. Christian, he’s only two.”

Christian has finished setting up the wooden train set he bought Teddy for his birthday. He’s had Barney at the office convert two of the little engines to run on solar power like the helicopter I gave Christian a few years ago. Christian seems anxious for the sun to rise. I suspect that’s because he wants to play with the train set himself. The layout covers most of the stone floor of our outdoor room.

Tomorrow we will have a family party for Ted. Ray and José will be coming and all the Grey’s, including Ted’s new cousin Ava, Kate and Elliot’s two-month-old daughter. I look forward to catching up with Kate and seeing how motherhood is agreeing with her.

I gaze up at the view as the sun sinks behind the Olympic Peninsula. It’s everything Christian promised it would be, and I get the same joyful thrill seeing it now as I did the first time. It’s simply stunning: twilight over the Sound. Christian pulls me into his arms.

“It’s quite a view.”

“It is,” Christian answers, and when I turn to look at him, he’s gazing at me. He plants a soft kiss on my lips. “It’s a beautiful view,” he murmurs. “My favorite.”

“It’s home.”

He grins and kisses me again. “I love you, Mrs. Grey.”

“I love you, too, Christian. Always.”

The End

1
Dr. Seuss.
The Lorax.
New York: Random House, 1971.

I am aware that today you cannot walk into an American bank and withdraw five million dollars. The conversation Ana did not hear went like this:

“Troy Whelan.”

“It’s Christian Grey. I’ve spoken to my wife. Give her the money. Whatever she wants.”

“Mr. Grey, I can’t . . .”

“Liquidate five million of my assets. Off the top of my head: Georges, PKC, Atlantis Corps, Ferris and Umatic. A million from each.”

“Mr. Grey, this is highly irregular. I’ll have to consult with Mr. Forlines.”

“I’m playing golf with him next week,” I hiss. “Just fucking do it, Whelan. Find a way, or I’ll close all the accounts and move GEH’s business elsewhere. Understand?”

He’s silent on the end of the phone.

“We’ll sort the fucking paperwork out later,” I add, more conciliatory.

“Yes, Mr. Grey.”

My sweater is scratchy and smells of new. Everything is new. I have a new mommy. She is a doctor. She has a tetscope that I can stick in my ears and hear my heart. She is kind and smiles. She smiles all the time. Her teeth are small and white.

“Do you want to help me decorate the tree, Christian?”

There is a big tree in the room with the big couches. A big tree. I have seen these before. But in stores. Not inside where the couches are. My new house has lots of couches. Not one couch. Not one brown sticky couch.

“Here, look.”

My new mommy shows me a box, and it’s full of balls. Lots of pretty shiny balls.

“These are ornaments for the tree.”

Orn-a-ments. Orn-a-ments. My head says the word. Orn-a-ments.

“And these—” she stops and pulls out a string with little flowers on them. “These are the lights. Lights first, and then we can trim the tree.” She reaches down and puts her fingers in my hair. I go very still. But I like her fingers in my hair. I like to be near New Mommy. She smells good. Clean. And she only touches my hair.

“
Mom
!”

He’s calling. Lelliot. He’s big and loud. Very loud. He talks. All the time. I don’t talk at all. I have no words. I have words in my head.

“Elliot, darling, we’re in the sitting room.”

He runs in. He has been to school. He has a picture. A picture he has drawn for my new mommy. She is Lelliot’s mommy, too. She kneels down and hugs him and looks at the picture. It is a house with a mommy and a daddy and a Lelliot and a Christian. Christian is very small in Lelliot’s picture. Lelliot is big. He has a big smile and Christian has a sad face.

Daddy is here, too. He walks toward Mommy. I hold my blankie tight. He kisses New Mommy and New Mommy isn’t frightened. She smiles. She kisses him back. I squeeze my blankie.

“Hello, Christian.” Daddy has a deep soft voice. I like his voice. He is never loud. He does not shout. He does not shout like . . . He reads books to me when I go to bed. He reads about a cat and a hat and green eggs and ham. I have never seen green eggs. Daddy bends down so he is small.

“What did you do today?”

I show him the tree.

“You bought a tree? A Christmas tree?”

I say yes with my head.

“It’s a beautiful tree. You and Mommy chose very well. It’s an important job choosing the right tree.”

He pats my hair, too, and I go very still and hold my blankie tightly. Daddy doesn’t hurt me.

“Daddy, look at my picture.” Lelliot is mad when Daddy talks to me. Lelliot is mad at me. I smack Lelliot when he is mad at me. New Mommy is mad at me if I do. Lelliot does not smack me. Lelliot is scared of me.

The lights on the tree are pretty.

“Here, let me show you. The hook goes through the little eye, and then you can hang it on the tree.” Mommy puts the red orn-a . . . orn-a-ment on the tree.

“You try with this little bell.”

The little bell rings. I shake it. The sound is a happy sound. I shake it again. Mommy smiles. A big smile. A special smile for me.

“You like the bell, Christian?”

I say yes with my head and shake the bell once more, and it tinkles happily.

“You have a lovely smile, darling boy.” Mommy blinks and wipes her hand on her eyes. She strokes my hair. “I love to see your smile.” Her hand moves to my shoulder. No. I step back and squeeze my blankie. Mommy looks sad and then happy. She strokes my hair.

“Shall we put the bell on the tree?”

My head says yes.

“Christian, you must tell me when you’re hungry. You can do that. You can take Mommy’s hand and lead Mommy to the kitchen and point.” She points her long finger at me. Her nail is shiny and pink. It is pretty. But I don’t know if my new mommy is mad or not. I have finished all my dinner. Macaroni and cheese. It tastes good.

“I don’t want you to be hungry, darling. Okay? Now would you like some ice cream?”

My head says
yes
! Mommy smiles at me. I like her smiles. They are better than macaroni and cheese.

The tree is pretty. I stand and look at it and hug my blankie. The lights twinkle and are all different colors, and the orn-a-ments are all different colors. I like the blue ones. And on the top of the tree is a big star. Daddy held Lelliot up, and Lelliot put the star on the tree. Lelliot likes putting the star on the tree. I want to put the star on the tree . . . but I don’t want Daddy to hold me up high. I don’t want him to hold me. The star is sparkly and bright.

Beside the tree is the piano. My new mommy lets me touch the black and the white on the piano. Black and white. I like the white sounds. The black sound is wrong. But I like the black sound, too. I go white to black. White to black. Black to white. White, white, white, white. Black, black, black, black. I like the sound. I like the sound a lot.

“Do you want me to play for you, Christian?”

My new mommy sits down. She touches the white and the black, and the songs come. She presses the pedals underneath. Sometimes it’s loud and sometimes it’s quiet. The song is happy. Lelliot likes Mommy to sing, too. Mommy sings about an ugly duckling. Mommy makes a funny quacking noise. Lelliot makes the funny quacking noise, and he makes his arms like wings and flaps them up and down like a bird. Lelliot is funny.