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“What do you mean you weren’t talking?” It’s Grace. She sounds angry. I try to move my head, but I’m met with a resounding, listless silence from my body.

“What did you do?”

“Mom—”

“Christian! What did you do?”

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“I was so angry.” It’s almost a sob . . . No.

“Hey . . .”

The world dips and blurs and I’m gone.

I hear soft garbled voices.

“You told me you’d cut all ties.” Grace is talking. Her voice is quiet, admonishing.

“I know.” Christian sounds resigned. “But seeing her finally put it all in perspective for me. You know . . . with the child. For the first time I felt . . . What we did . . . it was wrong.”

“What she did darling . . . Children will do that to you. Make you look at the world in a different light.”

“She finally got the message . . . and so did I . . . I hurt Ana,” he whispers.

“We always hurt the ones we love, darling. You’ll have to tell her you’re sorry. And mean it and give her time.”

“She said she was leaving me.”

No. No. No!

“Did you believe her?”

“At first, yes.”

“Darling, you always believe the worst of everyone, including yourself. You always have. Ana loves you very much, and it’s obvious you love her.”

“She was mad at me.”

“I’m sure she was. I’m pretty mad at you right now. I think you can only be truly mad at someone you really love.”

“I thought about it, and she’s shown me over and over how much she loves me . . . to the point of putting her own life in danger.”

“Yes, she has, darling.”

“Oh, Mom, why won’t she wake up?” His voice cracks. “I nearly lost her.” Christian! There are muffled sobs. No . . .

Oh . . . the darkness closes in. No—

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“It’s taken twenty-four years for you to let me hold you like this . . .”

“I know, Mom . . . I’m glad we talked.”

“Me too, darling. I’m always here. I can’t believe I’m going to be a grandmother.”

Grandma!

Sweet oblivion beckons.

Hmm. His stubble softly scrapes the back of my hand as he squeezes my fingers.

“Oh, baby, please come back to me. I’m sorry. Sorry for everything. Just wake up. I miss you. I love you . . .”

I try. I try. I want to see him. But my body disobeys me, and I fall asleep once more.

I have a pressing need to pee. I open my eyes. I’m in the clean, sterile environment of a hospital room. It’s dark except for a sidelight, and all is quiet. My head and my chest ache, but more than that, my bladder is bursting. I need to pee. I test my limbs. My right arm smarts, and I notice the IV attached to it on the inside of my elbow. I shut my eyes quickly. Turning my head—I’m pleased that it responds to my will—I open my eyes again. Christian is asleep, sitting beside me and leaning on my bed with his head on his folded arms. I reach out, grateful once more that my body responds, and run my fingers through his soft hair.

He startles awake, raising his head so suddenly my hand falls weakly back onto the bed.

“Hi,” I croak.

“Oh, Ana.” His voice is choked and relieved. He grasps my hand, squeezing it tightly and holding it up against his rough, stubbled cheek.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I whisper.

He gapes then frowns at me for a moment. “Okay.” I struggle to sit up.

“Ana, stay still. I’ll call a nurse.” He quickly stands, alarmed, and reaches for a buzzer on the bedside.

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“Please,” I whisper. Why do I ache everywhere? “I need to get up.” Jeez, I feel so weak.

“Will you do as you’re told for once?” he snaps, exasperated.

“I really need to pee,” I rasp. My throat and mouth are so dry.

A nurse bustles into the room. She must be in her fifties, though her hair is jet black. She wears overlarge pearl earrings.

“Mrs. Grey welcome back. I’ll let Dr. Bartley know you’re awake.” She makes her way to my bedside. “My name is Nora. Do you know where you are?”

“Yes. Hospital. I need to pee.”

“You have a catheter.”

What? Oh this is gross. I glance anxiously at Christian then back to the nurse.

“Please. I want to get up.”

“Mrs. Grey.”

“Please.”

“Ana,” Christian warns. I struggle to sit up once more.

“Let me remove your catheter. Mr. Grey I am sure Mrs. Grey would like some privacy.” She looks pointedly at Christian, dismissing him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He glares back at her.

“Christian, please,” I whisper, reaching out and grasping his hand. Briefly he squeezes my hand then gives me an exasperated look. “Please,” I beg.

“Fine!” he snaps and runs his hand through his hair. “You have two minutes,” he hisses at the nurse, and he leans down and kisses my forehead before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

Christian bursts back into the room two minutes later as Nurse Nora is helping me out of bed. I’m dressed in a thin hospital gown. I don’t remember being stripped.

“Let me take her,” he says and strides toward us.

“Mr. Grey, I can manage.” Nurse Nora scolds him.

He gives her a hostile glare. “Dammit, she’s my wife. I’ll take her.” He says through gritted teeth as he moves the IV stand out of his way.

“Mr. Grey!” she protests.

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