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“Can I persuade you to eat something?” he asks.
My smile disappears. “Not now. I want to see Ray first.”
His shoulders slump, but he doesn’t push me.
“How were the Taiwanese?”
“Amenable,” he says.
“Amenable how?”
“They let my buy their shipyard for less than the price I was willing to pay.”
He’s bought a shipyard? “That’s good?”
“Yes. That’s good.”
“But I thought you had a shipyard, over here.”
“I do. We’re going to use that to do the fitting-out. Build the hulls in the Far East. It’s cheaper.”
Oh. “What about the workforce at the shipyard here?”
“We’ll redeploy. We should be able to keep redundancies to a minimum.” He kisses my hair. “Shall we check on Ray?” he asks, his voice soft.
The ICU on the sixth floor is a stark, sterile, functional ward with whispered voices and bleeping machinery. Four patients are each housed in their own separate hi-
tech area. Ray is at the far end.
Daddy.
He looks so small in his large bed, surrounded by all this technology. It’s a shock. My dad has never been so diminished. There’s a tube in his mouth, and various
lines pass through drips into a needle in each arm. A small clamp is attached to his finger. I wonder vaguely what that’s for. His leg is on top of the sheets, encased
in a blue cast. A monitor displays his heart rate: beep, beep, beep. It’s beating strong and steady. This I know. I move slowly toward him. His chest is covered in a
large, pristine bandage that disappears beneath the thin sheet that protects his modesty.
Daddy.
I realize that the tube pulling at the right corner of his mouth leads to a ventilator. Its noise is weaving with the beep, beep, beep of his heart monitor into a
percussive rhythmic beat. Sucking, expelling, sucking, expelling, sucking, expelling in time with the beeps. There are four lines on the screen of his heart monitor,
each moving steadily across, demonstrating clearly that Ray is still with us.
Oh, Daddy.
Even though his mouth is distorted by the ventilator tube, he looks peaceful, lying there fast asleep.
A petite young nurse stands to one side, checking his monitors.
“Can I touch him?” I ask her, tentatively reaching for his hand.
“Yes.” She smiles kindly. Her badge says KELLIE RN, and she must be in her twenties. She’s blonde with dark, dark eyes.
Christian stands at the end of the bed, watching me carefully as I clasp Ray’s hand. It’s surprisingly warm, and that’s my undoing. I sink on to the chair by the
bed, place my head gently against Ray’s arm, and start to sob.
“Oh, Daddy. Please get better,” I whisper. “Please.”
Christian puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
“All Mr. Steele’s vitals are good,” Nurse Kellie says quietly.
“Thank you,” Christian murmurs. I glance up in time to see her gape. She’s finally gotten a good look at my husband. I don’t care. She can gape at Christian all
she likes as long as she makes my father well again.
“Can he hear me?” I ask.
“He’s in a deep sleep. But who knows?”
“Can I sit for a while?”
“Sure thing.” She smiles at me, her cheeks pink from a telltale blush. Incongruously, I find myself thinking blond is not her true color.
Christian gazes down at me, ignoring her. “I need to make a call. I’ll be outside. I’ll give you some alone time with your dad.”I nod. He kisses my hair and walks
out of the room. I hold Ray’s hand, marveling at the irony that it’s only now when he’s unconscious and can’t hear me that I really want to tell him how much I love
him. This man has been my constant. My rock. And I’ve never thought about it until now. I’m not flesh of his flesh, but he’s my dad, and I love him so very much.
My tears trail down my cheeks. Please, please get better.
Very quietly, so as not to disturb anyone, I tell him about our weekend in Aspen and about last weekend when we were soaring and sailing aboard The Grace. I
tell him about our new house, our plans, about how we hope to make it ecologically sustainable. I promise to take him with us to Aspen so he can go fishing with
Christian and assure him that Mr. Rodriguez and José will both be welcome, too. Please be here to do that, Daddy. Please.
Ray remains immobile, the ventilator sucking and expelling and the monotonous but reassuring beep, beep, beep of his heart monitor his only response.
When I look up, Christian is sitting quietly at the end of the bed. I don’t know how long he’s been there.
“Hi,” he says, his eyes glowing with compassion and concern.
“Hi.”
“So, I’m going fishing with your dad, Mr. Rodriguez, and José?” he asks.
I nod.
“Okay. Let’s go eat. Let him sleep.”
I frown. I don’t want to leave him.
“Ana, he’s in a coma. I’ve given our cell numbers to the nurses here. If there’s any change, they’ll call us. We’ll eat, check into a hotel, rest up, then come back
this evening.”
The suite at the Heathman looks just as I remember it. How often have I thought about that first night and morning I spent with Christian Grey? I stand in the
entrance to the suite, paralyzed. Jeez, it all started here.
“Home away from home,” says Christian, his voice soft, putting my briefcase down beside one of the overstuffed couches.
“Do you want a shower? A bath? What do you need, Ana?” Christian gazes at me, and I know he’s rudderless—my lost boy dealing with events beyond his
“Do you want a shower? A bath? What do you need, Ana?” Christian gazes at me, and I know he’s rudderless—my lost boy dealing with events beyond his
control. He’s been withdrawn and contemplative all afternoon. This is a situation he ca
from that for so long, he’s exposed and helpless now. My sweet, sheltered Fifty Shades.
“A bath. I’d like a bath.” I murmur, aware that keeping him busy will make him feel better, useful even. Oh, Christian—I’m numb and I’m cold and I’m scared,
but I’m so glad you’re here with me.
“Bath. Good. Yes.” He strides into the bedroom and out of sight into the palatial bathroom. A few moments later, the roar of water gushing to fill the tub echoes
from the room.
Finally, I galvanize myself to follow him into the bedroom. I’m dismayed to see several bags from Nordstrom on the bed. Christian reenters, sleeves rolled up, tie
and jacket discarded.
“I sent Taylor to get some things. Nightwear. You know,” he says, eyeing me warily.
Of course he did. I nod my approval to make him feel better. Where is Taylor?
“Oh, Ana,” Christian murmurs. “I’ve not seen you like this. You’re normally so brave and strong.”
I don’t know what to say. I merely gaze wide-eyed at him. I have nothing to give right now. I think I’m in shock. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to keep
the pervading cold at bay, even though I know it’s a fruitless task as this cold comes from within. Christian pulls me into his arms.
“Baby, he’s alive. His vital signs are good. We just have to be patient,” he murmurs. “Come.” He takes my hand and leads me into the bathroom. Gently, he slips
my jacket off my shoulders and places it on the bathroom chair, then turning back, he undoes the buttons on my shirt.
The water is deliciously warm and fragrant, the smell of lotus blossom heavy in the warm, sultry air of the bathroom. I lie between Christian’s legs, my back to his
front, my feet resting on top of his. We’re both quiet and introspective, and I’m finally feeling warm. Intermittently Christian kisses my hair as I absentmindedly pop
the bubbles in the foam. His arm is wrapped around my shoulders.
“You didn’t get into the bath with Leila, did you? That time you bathed her?” I ask.