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An hour or two later, I don’t know how long, I glance up to see Christian, laptop in hand, standing at the end of Ray’s bed with Nurse Kellie.

“It’s time to go, Ana.”

Oh. I clasp Ray’s hand tightly. I don’t want to leave him.

“I want to feed you. Come. It’s late.” Christian sounds insistent.

“I’m about to give Mr. Steele a sponge bath,” Nurse Kellie says.

“Okay.” I concede. “We’ll be back tomorrow morning.” I kiss Ray on his cheek, feeling his unfamiliar stubble beneath my lips. I don’t like it . Keep getting better, Daddy. I love you.

“I thought we’d dine downstairs. In a private room,” Christian says, a gleam in his eye as he opens the door to our suite.

“Really? Finish what you started a few months ago?” He smirks. “If you’re very lucky, Mrs. Grey.” I laugh. “Christian, I don’t have anything dressy to wear.” He smiles, holds out his hand, and leads me into the bedroom. He opens the wardrobe to reveal a large white dress bag hanging inside.

“Taylor?” I ask.

“Christian,” he replies, forceful and wounded at once. His tone makes me laugh. Unzipping the bag, I find a navy satin dress and ease it out. It’s gorgeous—fitted with thin straps. It looks small.

“It’s lovely. Thank you. I hope it fits.”

“It will,” he says confidently. “And here”—he picks up a shoebox—“shoes to match.” He gives me a wolfish smile.

“You think of everything. Thank you.” I stretch up and kiss him.

“I do.” He hands me yet another bag.

I gaze at him quizzically. Inside is a black strapless bodysuit with a central panel of lace. He caresses my face, tilts my chin, and kisses me.

“I look forward to taking this off you later.” Fresh out of my bath, washed, shaved and feeling pampered, I sit on the edge of the bed and start up the hair dryer. Christian wanders into the bedroom. I think he’s been working.

“Here, let me,” he says, pointing to the chair in front of the dressing table.

“Dry my hair?”

He nods. I blink at him.

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“Come,” he says, regarding me intently. I know that expression, and I know better than to disobey. Slowly and methodically he dries my hair, one lock at a time. He’s obviously done this before . . . often.

“You’re no stranger to this,” I murmur. His smile is reflected in the mirror, but he says nothing and continues to brush through my hair. Hmm . . . it’s very relaxing.

When we step into the elevator on our way to dinner, we are not alone. Christian looks delicious in his signature white linen shirt, black jeans and jacket. No tie.

The two women inside shoot admiring glances at him and less generous ones at me. I hide my smile. Yes, ladies, he’s mine. Christian takes my hand and pulls me close as we travel in silence down to the mezzanine level.

It’s busy, full of people dressed up for the evening, sitting around chatting and drinking, starting their Saturday night. I am grateful that I fit in. The dress hugs me, skimming over my curves and holding everything in place. I have to say, I feel . . . attractive wearing it. I know Christian approves.

At first, I think we’re heading for the private dining room where we first discussed the contract, but he leads me past that doorway and on to the far end where he opens the door to another wood paneled room.

“Surprise! ”

Oh, my. Kate and Elliot, Mia and Ethan, Carrick and Grace, Mr. Rodriguez and José, and my mother and Bob are all there raising their glasses. I stand gaping at them, speechless. How? When? I turn in consternation to Christian, and he squeezes my hand. My mom steps forward and wraps her arms around me. Oh, Mom!

“Darling, you look beautiful. Happy birthday.”

“Mom!” I sob, embracing her. Oh Mommy. Tears stream down my face despite the audience, and I bury my face in her neck.

“Honey, darling. Don’t cry. Ray will be okay. He’s such a strong man. Don’t cry. Not on your birthday.” Her voice cracks, but she maintains her composure.

She grasps my face in her hands and with her thumbs wipes away my tears.

“I thought you’d forgotten.”

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“Oh, Ana! How could I? Seventeen hours of labor is not something you easily forget.”

I giggle through my tears, and she smiles.

“Dry your eyes, honey. Lots of people are here to share your special day.” I sniffle, not wanting to look at anyone else in the room, embarrassed and thrilled that everyone has made such an effort to come and see me.

“How did you get here? When did you arrive?”

“Your husband sent his plane, darling.” She grins, impressed.

And I laugh. “Thank you for coming, Mom.” She wipes my nose with a tissue as only a mother would. “Mom!” I scold, composing myself.

“That’s better. Happy birthday, darling.” She steps aside while everyone lines up to hug me and wish me happy birthday.

“He’s doing well, Ana. Dr. Sluder is the one of the best in the country. Happy birthday, Angel.” Grace hugs me.

“You cry all you want to, Ana—it’s your party.” José embraces me.

“Happy birthday, darling girl.” Carrick smiles, cupping my face.