Fifty Shades Trilogy 03 - Fifty Shades Freed

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.