Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian

Chapter 206

She closes her eyes, then stares down at her fingers. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“Sorry? Fuck!” A child. What do I do with a child?

“I know the timing’s not very good.”

“Not very good!” My bellow echoes around the room. “We’ve known each other five fucking minutes! I wanted to show you the fucking world and now… Fuck! Diapers and vomit and shit—!” I close my eyes.

You won’t love me anymore.

“Did you forget? Tell me. Or did you do this on purpose?”

“No.” Her word is a quiet rush of denial.

“I thought we’d agreed on this!” And I don’t give a fuck who can hear me.

She cringes, folding in on herself. “I know. We had. I’m sorry.”

“This is why! This is why I like control—so shit like this doesn’t come along and fuck everything up!”

“Christian, please don’t shout at me.”

Fuck.

I’ll be displaced.

She starts to cry.

Don’t you dare, Ana. “Don’t start with waterworks now! Fuck.” I run a hand through my hair, trying to comprehend this colossal fuckup. “You think I’m ready to be a father?” My voice cracks on the last word.

She turns tear-filled eyes to me. “I know neither one of us is ready for this,” she mumbles, “but I think you’ll make a wonderful father. We’ll figure it out.”

“How the fuck do you know!” My voice clamors around the room. “Tell me how!”

She opens her mouth, and closes it again as tears stream down her face.

And there it is—her regret.

Regret that’s writ large in every feature of her face. Regret that she’s saddled with me.

I can’t bear it.

My fury is drowning me.

“Oh, fuck this!” I rage at the world

I cannot do this—

I’m out

Grabbing my jacket, I storm out of the room, slamming the foyer door. Frantically, I stab the call button, and even though the elevator is on our floor the doors take far too fucking long to open.

A child?

A fucking child?

I step into the elevator, but in my head I’m underneath a kitchen table, in a shambolic, grimy, neglected hovel, waiting for him to

There you are, you little shit.

Hell and damnation.

Fuck, no.

On the ground floor, I slam through the main doors out of Escala and onto the sidewalk. I drag in a lungful of fresh fall air, but it does little to assuage

I walk.

And walk.

In a daze.

Blotting out all other thoughts.

Except one.

How could she do this to me?

How?

How can I love a child?

only just learned to love her.

The door doesn’t shift—it’s locked. I call him but get his voice mail. I don’t leave a message. I can’t trust myself.

Jamming my hands into the pockets of my jacket and ignoring the commuters

Aimless.

When I look up, Elena is locking up the salon, shrouded in her usual black attire. We gaze at each other; she’s on one side of the glass, I’m on

“Hello, Christian. You look like shit.”

I stare at her, not knowing what to

“Are you coming in?”

I shake my head and step back.

Grey,

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