In silence, I drift into our bedroom . Our bedroom. Not just mine anymore. We're trying to forge a future together and once again I manage to derail it. What is the matter with me? How have I let myself get to this stage? Again. I'm not 15: I'm a successful, fucking successful, wealthy and respected businessman - and I'm completely falling apart.
I gaze down at her. God, she's so beautiful. Her mahogany hair is spread out like silk across the pillow and her lips are parted, breathing softly. There's a small frown line between her eyebrows so I know she's thinking of me - of me in all my fifty shades of fucked-upness.
I undress quietly and ease myself into bed beside her. She murmurs something but doesn't wake. I breathe in the delicious scent of her hair.
I close my eyes but sleep won't come. It's impossible to shut off my brain which writhes and snarls like wild animals, caging the vicious beast that's the real me.
She must never know. She must never know.
I watch the moon's shadows creep across the wall, growing paler as the hours pass. I don't sleep but I feel something like peace with my Ana next to me.
Eventually, as dawn approaches, I rise, wraith-like, inhuman, as if I was never there by her side.
I dress quickly and meet Taylor for our morning run.
He doesn't speak, correctly reading my mood, and we head for the elevator.
Mist swirls around the early-morning streets as if my thoughts are trying to solidify. The animus visible. I must keep her safe. I must keep her safe.
She's so precious: she's my reason for living.
I barely notice that we've completed our six mile circuit. Fuck knows how far I'd have run if Taylor hadn't been steering me back to Escala. I'd probably be half way to Olympia by now.
Fuck! I have to get a grip.
When we return to the apartment, Ana is sitting at the breakfast bar. Mrs Jones disappears immediately, sensing an impending argument.
Ana looks up.
"Are you talking to me now, Christian, or are you still too busy?"
Her tone stops me in my tracks; she sounds so angry, so cold. No, not my Ana! Please God, no!
But the voice that comes out of my mouth betrays me.
"Only if you're ready to be reasonable, Anastasia. The traditional wedding vows have been good for hundreds of years; I see no reason to change them now."
"Fine. Don't change yours. But do not ever, and I mean ever, Christian, do not ever expect me to say I'll obey you. Because you'd make me into a liar, and I won't do that. I won't let you do that to me. If you decide not to behave like an adolescent, I'll be at your mother's arranging our wedding."
And once again, she gets up and leaves.
No! Don't go!
But the voice stays locked in my throat and I can only watch as she vanishes.
I head back to my study and throw myself into work. She'll come back. She always comes back... doesn't she?
