“Good morning, Miss Steele. It’s always a treat to wake up to you.”
She strokes my cheek. “And you, Mr. Grey.” Her tone is soft. “Do we have to get up? I like being here in your room.”
“No.” I glance at my watch on the nightstand. It’s 9:15. “My parents will be at Mass.” I shift to her side.
“I didn’t know they were churchgoers.”
I grimace. “Yes. They are. Catholic.”
“Are you?”
“No, Anastasia.”
God and I went our separate ways a long time ago.
“Are you?” I ask, recalling that Welch could find no religious affiliations during her background check.
She shakes her head. “No. Neither of my parents practice a faith. But I would like to go to church today. I need to thank…someone for bringing you back alive from the helicopter accident.”
I sigh, visualizing a bolt of lightning burning me to a cinder if I step onto the hallowed grounds of a church, but for her, I’ll go.
“Okay. I’ll see what we can do.” I kiss her quickly. “Come, shower with me.”
outside my bedroom door—Taylor has delivered clean clothes. I scoop up the bag and shut the door. Ana is wrapped in a towel, beads of water glistening on her shoulders. Her attention is focused on my bulletin board, paused
the
the morning sunshine, drinking me in, begging me to say something. But I can’t. This is not somewhere I want to go. For a moment, I’m reminded of the gut punch I felt when Carrick handed me the photograph so many years
Don’t go
of clothes for us,” I whisper as I sling the duffel onto the bed.
she says, and she walks toward the bed
have returned from Mass and my mother has cooked her traditional brunch: a delicious, coronary-inducing plate of bacon, sausage, hash browns, eggs, and English muffins. Grace is a little
I have
haven’t forgiven him for last
half listen with amusement
the table, holding her laptop. “Look at this. There’s a gossipy item on the Seattle Nooz
“Already?” Mom says, surprised.
have anything better to
the column out loud. “‘Word has reached us here at the Nooz that Seattle’s most eligible bachelor, the Christian Grey, has finally been snapped up, and
who pales as she
continues. “‘The Nooz is on the hunt. Bet
her. Shut the fuck
and presses her lips together. Ignoring her, and all the anxious looks exchanged at the table, I turn my attention to Ana, who
mouth, trying to
“Christian,” Dad says.
this again,” I snarl at him. He opens his mouth to say