Freed Read online

  I start counting sheep.

  We are soaring. Ana is in front of the cockpit, her hands stretched out to the canopy, squealing with joy and wonder. My heart is full. This is happiness. This is love. This is what it feels like. We’re on top of the world. Our life stretched in a colorful patchwork of greens and browns beneath us. I bank, and suddenly I’m in a tailspin. Ana is screaming. Screaming. We’re in Charlie Tango and we’re losing height. I smell the fire. I’m fighting the controls to keep my helicopter upright. I need to find a place to land. All I hear is the roar of the engines and Ana screaming. We’re going down. Fuck. Spinning. Down. Down. Down. Shit. I’m going to hit the ground. No. No! Ana is lying on a sticky green rug. I’m shaking her. She won’t wake up. Ana. Ana. Ana! There’s a crash. And he fills the doorway. There you are, you little shit! No. No. Ana. Ana. Ana!

  I’m jerked awake, a fine film of sweat bathing my chest and stomach in the first blink of dawn.

  It’s too early.

  I rub my face, bringing my breathing and terror under control, then close my eyes and turn over. Reaching out, I grab Ana’s pillow and tug it toward me. I immerse myself in her scent. Ah…

  Grandpa Theodore hands me an apple. It’s bright red. And sweet. There’s a light breeze on my face. It’s cooling in the sunshine. We stand together in the orchard. He holds my hand. His palm is rough with calluses. Mom and Dad and Elliot are coming. They have a picnic basket. Dad lays out the blanket. And Ana sits down on the blanket. Ana. She’s here. With me. With us. She laughs. And I laugh. Ana caresses my face. Here, she says. And she hands me Baby Mia. Mia. And suddenly I’m six again. Mee-a, I whisper. Mom looks at me. What did you say? Mee-a. Yes. Yes. Darling boy. You have your words. Mia. Her name is Mia. And Mommy starts to cry happy tears.

  I open my eyes, startled by an image from my dream that I can’t quite grasp.

  What was I dreaming about?

  The sun is higher in the sky, announcing that it’s a more acceptable time to rise. I shake my head to rouse myself, and then I remember—today, I make Ana mine.

  Today, at 12 p.m.

  Yes!

  And then I get to spend three weeks with her in Europe. I can’t wait to show Ana all the sights. As I lie in bed feeling excited about what I have planned, I have an idea.

  Hmm… I’m going to pack a few toys from the playroom to add to the fun.

  Yes.

  I bound out of bed, grab a T-shirt, and head toward the kitchen. From the corridor I hear voices. Ray is sitting at the kitchen counter, tucking into bacon, eggs, hash browns, and sausages. He’s chatting with Mrs. Jones. Unlike me, he’s dressed, in his wedding shirt and tuxedo pants. “Good morning,” I greet him.

  “Good morning, Christian. How are you feeling?”

  “Good.”

  “Morning, Mr. Grey,” Gail gushes. “Coffee?”

  “Please.”

  “It’s a mighty fine place you have here,” Ray says, motioning to the ceiling with his knife.

  “Thank you.”

  “Ana tells me you’ve bought a house.”

  “Yes. It’s up the coast.”

  Ray nods. “She says you have a place in Aspen and New York, too.”

  “Um…yes. You know, property. Um. It’s about diversifying my portfolio.”

  He nods, but gives nothing away. “A lot of places for one person to mind.”

  “Well, after today, there’ll be two of us minding them.”

  His eyebrows rise high into his forehead, and a slow smile that is either admiration or incredulity spreads across his face. I hope it’s admiration. “I guess you’re right,” he says.

  I want to move the conversation off this topic. “Did you sleep well?”

  “I did. That room is probably one of the fanciest I’ve ever stayed in. And that is some view.”

  “I’m glad you were comfortable.”

  “Here you are, Mr. Grey.” Mrs. Jones places a black coffee on the counter in front of me.

  “Thank you, Gail.”

  “What would you like for breakfast?”

  “What Ray’s having.”

  She smiles. “Coming right up, sir.”

  I slide onto the stool beside Ray and ask him if he’s been fishing recently. His eyes light up.

  Even I have to admit that Elliot looks good in a tux. We’re in the back of the Q7, and nearing our parents’ place in Bellevue. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

  “I wish people would stop asking me that.”

  “You? Nervous? You’re the coolest dude I know. What gives? Is it because you’re saddling yourself to the same woman for the rest of your life? I’d be nervous, too.”

  I roll my eyes. “Your promiscuity knows no bounds, Elliot. One of these days someone is going to turn your world upside down. I didn’t know it would happen to me. And yet here we are.”

  His eyes cloud, and he looks out of the window as we pull up to our parents’ house. There are a number of cars queuing for the valet service, and guests in their wedding finery are following the pale pink carpet to the rear of the house. As Taylor steers us into the driveway, two guys in dark suits, with discreet earpieces and regulation aviators, step forward and open our doors. They’re the additional security.

  “Ready?” asks Elliot with a quick, reassuring glance at me. “If you want to back out, there’s still time.”

  “Fuck off.”

  He grins and climbs out of the car.

  I take a deep breath.

  This is it.

  Showtime, Grey.

  My phone buzzes and I glance at it.

  Fuck. My scalp tingles. It’s a text from Elena.

  ELENA

  You’re making a big mistake.

  I know you. But I’ll be here

  for you when your life falls apart.

  And it will. I’ll be here because

  in spite of what I said I love you.

  I’ll always love you.

  What the everlasting fuck is this?

  “Christian,” Elliot distracts me. “Are you coming?” He’s waiting.

  “Yes,” I snap. I quickly delete the text and climb out of the car.

  Fuck her.

  “You okay?” Elliot frowns when I join him.

  “Yes. Let’s do this.” I storm ahead, trying to bring my burst of anger under control. How dare Elena try to derail me on my wedding day! I ignore the young woman who’s standing on the path, all smiles. She’s carrying a clipboard, but I charge past her, leaving Elliot to check in with her, as I head through the front door. Grace is in the hall.

  “Darling, you’re here.”

  “Mother.”

  “You look so handsome, Christian.” She puts her arms around me, gives me a swift, restrained hug, and inclines her head toward me, offering a cheek.

  “Mom,” I whisper, and she steps back, concern flashing in her eyes.

  “Are you okay?”

  I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

  “Ana is upstairs—you can’t see her until the wedding. She slept in your room last night. Come with me.” She takes my hand and leads me down the hallway into the den.

  “Is it nerves, darling? I’d hug you properly, but I don’t want to get makeup on your suit,” Grace says. “The aesthetician put it on with a trowel. It will take months to get it off.”

  I laugh, and I’m so grateful that it’s Grace I got to see first. “I’m okay, Mom.”

  She clasps both of my hands. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” My anger has evaporated, beaten back by the woman I call Mom, and I resolve that, today of all days, I will not think about Mrs. Lincoln.

  “I’m so excited for you, darling,” Grace adds, beaming up at me.

  “You look good, Mom. Makeup and all.”

  “Thank you, dea
r. Oh, the donations to Coping Together have been unprecedented. I can’t thank you enough. It’s so generous of you.”

  I chuckle. “That was Ana’s idea. Not mine.”

  “Oh, that’s lovely.” She’s trying to hide her surprise.

  “I told you. She’s not acquisitive.”

  “Of course she isn’t. It’s a wonderful gesture on both your parts. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes. I got an aggravating text from an old business associate.”

  Grace narrows her eyes, and I think I may have said too much, but she chooses to ignore my explanation and checks her watch. “Kickoff is in fifteen minutes. I have your boutonniere here. Now, do you want to wait here, or go out to the pavilion?”

  “I think Elliot and I should go take our seats and wait.”

  Mom pins the white rose to my lapel and steps back to admire her handiwork.

  “Oh, darling.” She stops, placing her fingers over her lips, and I think she’s going to cry.

  Shit. Mom.

  My throat tightens, but Elliot steps into the room, saving us both. “What am I, chopped liver?” he chastises Grace, with a wicked gleam in his eye.

  “Oh, darling. You look so handsome, too.” She recovers and cups his face and pinches his cheeks, and I feel a momentary stab of envy that they have such a touchy-feely relationship.

  “Mom, you look like a queen.” My brother, charming as ever, plants a kiss on her forehead. She laughs, a girlish, sweet laugh, and she pats her hair.

  “You boys,” she admonishes us. “You’d better get out there. The ushers will show you where to go. But first let me pin on your boutonniere, Elliot.”

  As we head to the pavilion, Taylor intercepts me.

  “Sir, I’ve picked up Miss Steele’s suitcase, and everything else has been sent on to Sea-Tac.”

  “Excellent. Thanks, Taylor.”

  His lips twitch into a smile. “Good luck, sir.”

  I nod my thanks and continue with Elliot toward the barnlike tent.

  A string quartet is playing “Halo” by Beyoncé while I wait for Miss Anastasia Steele. My folks have gone all-out; the pavilion looks opulent. Elliot and I are seated at the front of several rows of gold chairs, which are filling up fast. I stare at the scene in front of me, noting all the details, hoping it will distract me from my nerves. A pale pink carpet leads to an impressive, arched flowery bower pitched at the water’s edge. It’s made of white and pink roses, intertwined with ivy and pale pink peonies that remind me of Ana’s blushing cheeks. Reverend Michael Walsh, my mother’s friend and her hospital’s chaplain, will officiate. He’s standing in his designated place patiently waiting, like us. His dark eyes twinkle at Elliot and me. Behind the floral arch the sun skips across the shining waters of Meydenbauer Bay. It’s a beautiful day to get married. One of the official photographers is stationed near Walsh, and her lens is directed at me. I look away and turn to Elliot. “You’ve got the rings?” I ask, probably for the tenth time.

  “Yes,” he hisses.

  “Dude! Just checking.”

  I turn and survey our guests as they arrive, nodding and waving to those I know. Bastille and his wife are here; Flynn arrives with his wife, Rhian, each holding one of their small boys firmly by the hand. Taylor and Gail are seated together. The photographer José Rodriguez and his father are here. Ros arrives with her partner, Gwen, and they usher their little girls into their seats. Eamon Kavanagh; his wife, Britt; and Ethan are here—Mia will be pleased. Mac salutes me; he’s sitting with a young blond woman I’ve not seen before. Grandma and Grandpa Trevelyan are shown to their seats near us. Grandma waves enthusiastically at both Elliot and me. Alondra Gutierrez is in the background, directing her small team of people. There are a number of guests that I don’t recognize—either friends of my folks or of Ana’s parents. My mother and father and Carla and Bob make their way to the front of the gathering to take their seats. My dad breaks rank and dashes toward us. He’s brimming with pride, and Elliot and I both stand to greet him.

  “Dad.” I hold my hand out to shake his, but he takes it and pulls me into a bearlike hug.

  “Good luck, son,” he enthuses. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” I squeeze the words past the sudden tangled knot of emotion that’s lodged in my throat.

  “Elliot.” Carrick hugs him, too.

  The general buzz of the congregation changes to an expectant hush. Dad scuttles back to his seat behind us as the string quartet breaks into “Chasing Cars.”

  Of course, Snow Patrol. One of Ana’s favorite bands.

  She loves this song.

  Mia is walking down the central aisle, dressed in a pale pink explosion of tulle. Behind her, Kate Kavanagh looks sleek and elegant in a pale pink silk gown.

  Ana.

  My mouth dries.

  She’s stunning.

  She’s in a fitted white lace dress, her shoulders bare but for a gossamer-thin veil. Her hair is pinned in an updo with a few tendrils framing her beautiful face. Her bridal bouquet is intricate—made of pink and white roses woven together. Ray walks by her side, his hand covering hers as she grips his arm, and it’s obvious he’s holding back his tears.

  Oh shit. The knot tightens in my throat.

  Ana’s eyes meet mine, and beneath her veil her face lights up like a summer’s day, her smile electrifying.

  Oh, baby.

  They walk up beside us and Ana passes her bouquet to Kate, who stands with Mia. Ray raises Ana’s veil and kisses her cheek. “I love you, Annie,” I hear him say, his voice hoarse, and, turning to me, he gives me Ana’s hand. Our eyes meet, his glistening, and I have to look away because his expression may be my undoing.

  “Hi,” I say to my bride, because that’s all I’m capable of right now.

  “Hi,” she replies, and squeezes my hand.

  “You look lovely.”

  “So do you.” She grins, and all my nerves melt away, as does the music, and it’s just Ana and me and Reverend Michael. He clears his throat, commanding everybody’s attention, and the wedding begins.

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the joining in matrimony of Christian Trevelyan-Grey and Anastasia Rose Steele.” The good reverend smiles benevolently down at both of us, and I tighten my hold on Ana’s hand.

  He asks the congregation if anyone knows of any impediment to our marriage. Elena’s text flits through my mind, and I’m annoyed with myself that I let it. Fortunately, Ana distracts me by glancing back at the crowd. When no one says anything, a collective sigh of relief flutters through the gathering, followed by muffled chuckles and titters. Ana peeks up at me, her eyes sparkling in amusement.

  “Phew,” I mouth.

  Ana stifles her smile.

  Reverend Michael asks us each in turn to declare that there’s no legal reason why we can’t be joined in marriage.

  As he addresses us about the seriousness of our commitment to each other, the burning sensation returns to my throat. Ana watches him, absorbed, and I notice she’s wearing elegant drop pearl earrings I’ve not seen before. I wonder if they are a present from her folks.

  “And now I invite both of you to offer your vows to each other.” He looks encouragingly at me. “Christian?”

  I take a deep breath, and gazing at the love of my life, I recite my vows from memory, my words ringing out over the throng: “I, Christian Trevelyan-Grey, do take thee, Anastasia Rose Steele, to be my lawfully wedded wife. I solemnly vow that I will safeguard, and hold dear and deep in my heart, our union and you. I promise to love you faithfully, forsaking all others, through the good times and the bad, in sickness and in health, regardless of where life takes us. I will protect you, trust you, and respect you.”

  Tears glimmer in Ana’s eyes and the tip of her nose turns a fetching pink.

  “I will
share your joys and sorrows, and comfort you in times of need. I promise to cherish you and uphold your hopes and dreams and keep you safe at my side. All that is mine is now yours. I give you my hand, my heart, and my love, from this moment on, for as long as we both shall live.”

  Ana wipes a tear from her eye, and I take a deep breath, relieved that I’ve remembered the words.

  “Ana?” the good reverend prompts her. From beneath her sleeve she takes a small slip of pink paper and reads:

  “I, Anastasia Rose Steele, do take thee, Christian Trevelyan-Grey, to be my lawfully wedded husband. I give you my solemn vow to be your faithful partner, in sickness and in health, to stand by your side in good times and in bad, to share your joy as well as your sorrow.” She gazes up at me and continues her vows without reading, and I stop breathing. “I promise to love you unconditionally, to support you in your goals and dreams, to honor and respect you, to laugh with you and cry with you, to share my hopes and dreams with you, and bring you solace in times of need. And to cherish you for as long as we both shall live.” She blinks back her tears, and I fight mine.

  “You two will now exchange rings as a symbol of your abiding love for each other. A ring is a constant circle. It is unbroken and everlasting, a symbol of perpetual unity. So, too, will be your commitment to each other and to this marriage, from this day forth, until death do you part.

  “Christian, place the ring on Anastasia’s finger.” Elliot hands me Ana’s ring and I position it at the tip of Ana’s left ring finger.

  “Repeat after me,” Reverend Michael says. “Anastasia, I give you this ring as a sign of our enduring faith in each other, our unity and our everlasting love.”

  I repeat the words, loud and clear, and slip the ring fully onto Ana’s finger.

  “Anastasia, place the ring on Christian’s finger,” Reverend Michael says. Elliot flashes a grin at Ana and passes her my ring.

  “Repeat after me,” the reverend continues. “Christian, I give you this ring as a sign of our enduring faith in each other, our unity and our everlasting love.”

  Ana’s words sound out sweetly for the rest of the congregation to hear, and she slips the ring onto my finger.

  Reverend Michael clasps both of our hands in his and says in a booming voice to our audience, “Love is the reason we are here. Marriage is founded on love. These two young people have pledged their everlasting love to each other. We honor them and wish them strength, courage, and trust to grow together, to learn from each other and to remain true to each other on the path that life takes them.