50 shades freed

Chapter 24

Everything in it is entirely imaginary and intended only for entertainment; I created it for fun. I did not write 50 Shades freed or any of its characters, and I do not own them.

Chapter 24

"Much as I'd like to kiss you all day, your breakfast is getting cold," Harry murmurs against my lips. He gazes down at me, now amused, except his eyes are darker, sensual. Holy cow, he's switched again. My Mr. Mercurial.

"Eat," he orders, his voice soft. I swallow, a reaction to his smoldering look, and crawl back into bed, avoiding snagging my IV line. He pushes the tray in front of me. The oatmeal is cold, but the pancakes under the cover are fine—in fact, they're mouth-watering.

"You know," I mutter between mouthfuls, "Blip might be a boy."

Harry runs his hand through his hair. "Two men, eh?" Alarm flashes across his face, and his dark look vanishes.

Oh crap. "Do you have a preference?"

"Preference?"

"Boy or girl."

He frowns. "Healthy will do," he says quietly clearly disconcerted by the question. "Eat," he snaps, and I know he's trying to avoid the subject.

"I'm eating, I'm eating . . . Jeez, keep your hair on, Styles." I watch him carefully. The corners of his eyes are crinkled with worry. He's said he'll try, but I know he's still freaked out by the baby. Oh, Harry, so am I. He sits down in the armchair beside me, picking up the Seattle Times. "You made the papers again, Mr. Tomlinson-Styles." His is tone bitter.

"Again?"

"The hacks are just rehashing yesterday's story, but it seems factually accurate. You want to read it?"

I shake my head. "Read it to me. I'm eating."

He smirks and proceeds to read the article aloud. It's a report on Jack and Elizabeth, depicting them as a modern-day Bonnie and Clyde. It briefly covers Gemma's kidnapping, my involvement in Gemma's rescue, and the fact that both Jack and I are in the same hospital. How does the press get all this information? I must ask Zayn.

When Harry finishes, I say, "Please read something else. I like listening to you."

He obliges and reads me a report about a booming bagel business and the fact that Boeing has had to cancel the launch of some plane. Harry frowns as he reads. But listening to his soothing voice as I eat, secure in the knowledge that I am fine, Gemma is safe and my Little Blip is safe, I feel a precious moment of peace despite all that has happened over the last few days.

I understand that Harry is scared about the baby, but I don't understand the depth of his fear. I resolve to talk to him some more about this. See if I can put his mind at ease. What puzzles me is that he hasn't lacked for positive role models as parents. Both Anne and Des are exemplary parents, or so they seem. Maybe it was the Dick Troll's interference that damaged him so badly. I'd like to think so. But in truth I think it goes back to his birth mom, though I'm sure Mr. Robinson didn't help. I halt my thoughts as I nearly recall a whispered conversation. Damn! It hovers on the edge of my memory from when I was unconscious. Harry talking with Anne. It melts away into the shadows of my mind. Oh, it's so frustrating.

I wonder if Harry will ever volunteer the reason he went to see her or if I'll have to push him.

I'm about to ask when there's a knock on the door.

Detective Clark makes an apologetic entry into the room. He's right to be apologetic—my heart sinks when I see him.

"Mr. Styles, Mr. Tomlinson-Styles. Am I interrupting?"