Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian

Chapter 15

“He said I might not be husband material.”

Flynn seems taken aback. “Oh. How did you feel about that?”

“Angry. Worried that he might be right.” Ashamed.

“In what context did he say it?”

I wave my hand dismissively. “He was lecturing me about the sanctity of marriage. He said if I had no respect for that, I had no business being married.”

John’s brows draw together.

“Since Elena was married.” I clarify for him.

“I see.” Flynn purses his lips. “Christian,” he says gently. “Your father may have a point.”

What?

“Either you were a willing participant in a relationship with a married woman, a relationship that cost her her marriage—and much more, considering what happened to her—or you were a vulnerable adolescent who was taken advantage of. Which is it? You cannot have it both ways.”

I glare at him. What. The. Hell?

“Marriage is a serious business,” he says.

“Fuck it, John, I know that. You sound just like him!”

“Do I? That’s not my intention. I’m just here to give you some perspective.”

Perspective? Fuck.

I glare at him, then down at my hands, as the silence grows between us.

Perspective, my ass. “I think Carrick’s wrong,” I mumble eventually, and I realize that I sound like the surly teen my father

Mrs. Lincoln, over the years you’ve demonstrated a constant commitment to her. I think it’s your regret at terminating all contact with

“There’s no regret!”

“Guilt, then?”

I sigh. “Guilt? I don’t feel guilty.”

John remains impassive.

“Hence the nightmares?” I ask.

“Maybe.” He taps his lip with his index finger. “You’re giving up a long-standing pivotal relationship to please your parents.”

“It’s not for my parents. It’s for Ana.”

for Anastasia, the woman you love. It’s a huge step.” He smiles once more. “In the right direction, if you ask me.”

I gaze at him, not knowing what to say.

“Think about all I’ve said. Time’s up,” he says. “We can continue talking about this when I see you next.”

get up, feeling somewhat bemused. Flynn, as ever, has given me a great

“Making good progress.”

“It is. I’ll see you next week.”

Taylor is waiting outside in the Q7.

“I’m going to walk home,” I inform him. I need some time to think. “I’ll see

He gives me a pained look.

“What?”

“Sir, I’d be much more comfortable if you rode

Oh, yes.

I scowl as Taylor opens the rear door, but resigned, I climb inside.

Am I no longer master of my own universe?

My dark mood worsens.

“Where’s Ana?” I ask Mrs. Jones when

“Good

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