Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian

Chapter 32

“Christian! Christian!” Her voice is urgent, pulling me from the depths of my nightmare, and my despair.

“I’m here. I’m here,” she cries.

I wake and Ana’s leaning over me, grasping my shoulders, shaking me, her face taut with anguish,

eyes wide and brimming with tears.

“Ana.” My voice is a hoarse whisper, the taste of fear tarnishing my mouth. “You’re here.”

“Of course I’m here.”

“I had a dream.”

“I know. I’m here, I’m here.”

“Ana.” Her name is an incantation on my lips, a talisman against the dark, choking panic coursing

through my body.

“Hush, I’m here.” She curls around me, her limbs cocooning mine, her warmth seeping into my soul,

forcing back the shadows, forcing back the fear. She is sunshine, she is light. She is mine.

“Please, let’s not fight.” I wrap my arms around her.

“Okay.”

“The vows. No obeying. I can do that. We’ll find a way.” The words rush out of my mouth in a tumble of

emotion and confusion and anxiety.

“Yes. We will. We’ll always find a way,” Ana whispers, and her lips are on mine, silencing me, bringing

me back to the now.

Friday, July 8, 2011

Dr. Flynn rubs his chin and I don’t know if he’s playing for time or genuinely intrigued. “She threatened

to leave?”

“Yes.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“So, you capitulated.”

“I didn’t have much choice.”

“Christian, you always have a choice. Do you think Anastasia was being unreasonable?”

I meet his gaze and want to shout yes, but deep down I know Ana isn’t an unreasonable person.

That’s you, Grey.

Unreasonable could be your middle name. Ana’s words haunt me. She said that, long ago.

Christ, my negativity is a real prick sometimes.

“How are you feeling now?” Flynn asks.

“Wary,” I whisper, and my admission is a jab to the solar plexus, almost winding me.

She could leave me.

“Ah. Your feelings of insecurity and abandonment are coming to the fore again.”

I remain mute, distracted by the sliver of afternoon light that brightens the cluster of mini orchids on his From NôvelDrama.Org.

coffee table. What can I say? I don’t want to admit this out loud. It makes my fears real. I loathe feeling

this weak. This exposed. Ana has the power to wound me and deliver a fatal blow.

“Is it giving you second thoughts about the wedding?” John asks.

No. Maybe.

I’m afraid she’ll hurt me.

Like she did before…when she left.

“No,” I answer, because I don’t want to lose her.

He nods, as if this is what he wants to hear. “You’ve relinquished a great deal for her.”

“I have.” I stifle my indulgent smile. “She’s a good negotiator.”

Flynn rubs his chin again. “Do you resent that?”

“Yes. Partly. I’ve given so much and she won’t give me this.”

“You sound like you’re mad at her.”

“I am.”

“Have you thought about telling her that?”

“How mad I am? No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m worried I’ll say something I’ll regret and she’ll leave. She left once before.”

“But you hurt her then.”

“I did.” The memory of her tearful face and her bitter rebuke are never far from my mind. You are one

fucked-up son of a bitch.

I shudder, but I hide it from Flynn. Whenever I think of that time, my shame almost swallows me whole.

“I don’t want to hurt her again. Ever.”

“That’s a good goal to work toward,” Flynn says. “But you need to find a healthy way to express and

channel your anger. You’ve directed it inwardly for so long. Too long.” He pauses. “But you know my

views on that. I am not going to rehash that now, Christian. You’re incredibly resilient and resourceful.

You had the solution to this impasse all along; you capitulated. Problem solved. Life is not always going

to go your way. The key is to recognize those moments. Sometimes it’s better to concede the battle to

win the war. Communicate and compromise—that’s what marriage is all about.”

I snort, remembering Ana’s e-mail from a lifetime ago.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head.

“Have a little faith in yourself, and in her.”

“Marriage is a huge leap of faith,” I mumble.

“It is. For everyone. But you’re well equipped to cope. Focus on where you want to be. How you want

to be. I think you have over the last few weeks. You’ve seemed happier.”

I meet his gaze.

“This is just a small setback,” he says.

I hope so.

“I’ll see you next week.”

It’s dusk, and Elliot and I are standing on the terrace of the new house, admiring the view. “I can see

why you bought the place.” Elliot whistles his appreciation through his teeth. We’re both quiet for a

moment, absorbing the majesty of twilight over the Sound: the opal sky, the distant orange haze, the

dark purple waters. The beauty. The calm.

“Stunning, isn’t it?” I murmur.

“Yep. This is a great spot for a beautiful home.”

“Which you’re going to remodel.” I grin and Elliot play-punches my arm.

“Glad I can help. It’s gonna take some hard work, and it ain’t gonna be cheap to make this place more

sustainable. But, hey, you can afford it. I’ll talk to Gia next week and see what she has in mind, and if

it’s possible.”

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