Fifty Shades Bound

Chapter Eighteen

The next morning, I was sick, and when I say sick, I mean excruciatingly sick. I just finished vomiting for the sixth time this morning and when I lift my head up from the toilet, Christian is standing in the bathroom doorway with worry etched into his face. I offer him a small smile but he doesn't return it. He crosses the tile floor and kneels next to me, rubbing my back soothingly.

"Should I call Dr. Greene?" He asks, fear lacing his voice. If the circumstances were different, I would find it cute that he's this worried.

"I'm fine, Christian. It's just a part of pregnancy," I say, trying to reassure him. He doesn't look convinced.

"Ana, you're past your first trimester. You're not supposed to be getting this sick anymore."

He was right. I had no idea why I was sick, and the lack of food in my system resulted in dry-vomiting now.

"Can you please run me a bath?" I ask weakly, resting my head on the toilet seat. If I was anywhere else, I wouldn't let my head go anywhere near the toilet rim, but I have great confidence that Mrs. Jones cleans it with care. Christian stands and goes to the bathtub, turning the water on and pouring jasmine into the quickly filling tub. I try to stand up from my spot on the floor, but I am barely able to get to my feet. Christian rushes to my sides and lifts me up effortlessly.

"If you keep trying to move around, you're going to end up hurt," he scolds. I ignore his statement because I'm still surprised he can pick me up with ease. I have definitely gained weight since I got pregnant, but with all the stress in Christian's life, he works out frequently. Christian sets me down on the edge of the bathtub and helps me pull my nightgown over my head, leaving me completely naked. Christian somehow finds the restraint to avoid looking at my body and helps me into the tub. He then quickly undresses and slips into the tub behind me, pulling me to rest between his legs.

"You didn't have to get in here with me," I mumble, enjoying the warmth of the water.

"Yes I did," he replies. He moves his hands to my belly and kisses my shoulder. We don't speak for a while, enjoying each other's presence and the warmth of the bath. When I'm on the verge of sleep, Christian lifts us out of the bath then wraps me in a towel, carrying me to bed. He lays me down and pats me dry before tucking me into the covers. He kisses my forehead then moves to kiss my belly.

"Stop making mommy sick," he scolds Blip. I can't help but laugh, and Christian looks up to give me his all-American boy grin.

"Do you want something to eat?" He suddenly questions, his face becoming more serious. I nod my head, and Christian leaves the bedroom to find food. I am positive that the food will make me sick, but I can't starve Blip. Christian returns with a tray of eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, and orange juice. Bless Mrs. Jones and her cooking. I quickly dig in while Christian smiles at me, amused. I put down my fork and look at him questioningly.

"I like your appetite these days, Mrs. Grey," he teases, and I blush. I finish off my plate and hand him back the tray, which he takes and places on the floor.

"I'm going to do my work in here, okay?"

"Sounds good," I reply, snuggling into the bed more. Christian climbs on top of the bed and reaches for his work folder on his night table. He takes out a stack of documents and begins reading them over, every now and then marking something with a pen. I watch him, studying every feature of his face. When he reads something he likes, his face is more relaxed and at ease, but when he reads something he disagrees with, his eyebrows furrow and his grip on the papers tighten. Honestly, it's pretty amusing watching how bipolar he can be with work. One minute he's happy, the next he's pissed. I guess that's just what happens when you run a multi-billion dollar company. I press my head further into my pillow and take in deep breaths. I'm feeling a little nauseous, but not enough to make me run to the bathroom again. I think back to the names Christian and I had discussed for little Blip. Theodore is still one of my favorites for a boy. What would be a good nickname? Theo? No, Christian wouldn't like that, and quite frankly I don't either. What else is there?

"Teddy," I say out loud, catching Christian's attention.

"What was that?" He asks, setting his papers aside to turn towards me.

"I was thinking of nicknames for the name Theodore, and I came up with Teddy," I explain, hoping he likes my idea. He seems to think about it for a few seconds before breaking out into a big smile.

"I like it," he says, reaching towards me to run his fingers through my hair. I move towards him so that I can lean my head against his chest.

"Teddy," I confirm, snuggling into Christian.

"You're going to be such a great mother, Ana," he says, kissing the top of my head. His complement instantly warms my heart and I feel good inside.

"You're going to be an even better father," I tell him. I know that he still has doubts, but he has been getting better and has been moving past his fears.

"I hope so," he replies quietly.