Fifty Shades Trilogy 03 - Fifty Shades Freed

conversations around the dinner table. It’s strange to be cocooned in the bosom of my family, knowing the man I consider my father is on a life support machine in the cold clinical environs of the ICU. I’m detached from the proceedings but grateful that they’re all here. Watching the sparring between Elliot and Christian, José’s ready warm wit, Mia’s excitement and her enthusiasm for the food, Ethan slyly watching her. I think he likes her . . . though it’s hard to tell. Mr. Rodriguez is sitting back, like me, enjoying the conversations. He looks better. Rested. José is very attentive to him, cutting his food, keeping his glass filled. Having his surviving parent come so close to death has made José appreciate Mr. Rodriguez more . . . I know.
    I gaze at Mom. She’s in her element, charming, witty, and warm. I love her so much. I must remember to tell her. Life is so precious, I realize that now.
    “You okay?” Kate asks in an uncharacteristically gentle voice.
    I nod and clasp her hand. “Yes. Thanks for coming.”
    “You think Mr. Megabucks could keep me away from you on your birthday? We got to fly in the helicopter!” She grins.
    “Really?”
    “Yes. All of us. And to think Christian can fly it.”
    I nod.
    “That’s kinda hot.”
    “Yeah, I think so.”
    We grin.
    “Are you staying here tonight?” I ask.
    “Yes. We all are, I think. You knew nothing about this?”
    I shake my head.
    “Smooth, isn’t he?”
    I nod.
    “What did he get you for your birthday?”
    “This.” I hold up my bracelet.
    “Oh, cute!”
    “Yes.”
    “London, Paris . . . ice cream?”
    “You don’t want to know.”
    “I can guess.”
    We laugh, and I blush, recalling Ben & Jerry’s & Ana.
    “Oh . . . and an R8.”
    Kate spits her wine rather unattractively down her chin, making us both laugh some more.
    “Over the top bastard, isn’t he?” She giggles.
    For dessert I am presented with a sumptuous chocolate cake blazing with twenty-two silver candles and a rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday.” Grace watches Christian singing with the rest of my friends and family, and her eyes shine with love. Catching my eye, she blows me a kiss.
    “Make a wish,” Christian whispers to me. In one breath I blow out all the candles, fervently willing my father better. Daddy, get well. Please get well. I love you so .
    At midnight, Mr. Rodriguez and José take their leave.
    “Thank you so much for coming.” I hug José tightly.
    “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Glad Ray’s heading in the right direction.”
    “Yes. You, Mr. Rodriguez, and Ray have to come fishing with Christian in Aspen.”
    “Yeah? Sounds cool.” José grins before he leaves to fetch his father’s coat, and I crouch down to say good-bye to Mr. Rodriguez.
    “You know Ana, there was a time . . . well, I thought you and José . . .” His voice fades, and he gazes at me, his dark gaze intense but loving.
    Oh no.
    “I’m very fond of your son, Mr. Rodriguez, but he’s like a brother to me.”
    “You would have made one fine daughter-in-law. And you do. To the Greys.” He smiles wistfully and I blush.
    “I hope you’ll settle for friend.”
    “Of course. Your husband is a fine man. You chose well, Ana.”
    “I think so,” I whisper. “I love him so.” I hug Mr. Rodriguez.
    “Treat him good, Ana.”
    “I will,” I promise.
    Christian closes the door to our suite.
    “Alone at last,” he murmurs, leaning back against the door, watching me.
    I step toward him and run my fingers over the lapels of his jacket. “Thank you for a wonderful birthday. You really are the most thoughtful, considerate, generous husband.”
    “My pleasure.”
    “Yes . . . your pleasure. Let’s do something about that,” I whisper. Tightening my hands around his lapels, I pull his lips to mine.

    After a communal breakfast, I open all my presents then give a series of cheery good-byes to all the Greys and the Kavanaghs who will be returning to Seattle via Charlie Tango. My mom, Christian, and I head up to the hospital with Taylor driving since the three of us would not fit into my R8. Bob has declined to visit, and I’m secretly glad. It’d be just too weird, and I’m sure Ray wouldn’t appreciate Bob seeing him at anything less than his best.
    Ray looks much the same. Hairier. Mom is shocked when she sees him, and together we cry a little more.
    “Oh, Ray.” She squeezes his hand and gently strokes his face, and I’m