Fifty Shades Freed (Christian & Ana)(248)

"That's it?"

"Pretty much."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"It's over?"

"Yes. It's been over since I laid eyes on you. I finally realized it that night and so did she."

"I'm sorry," I mutter.

He frowns. "What for?"

"Being so angry the next day."

He snorts. "Baby, I understand angry." He pauses then sighs. "You see, Ana, I want you to myself. I don't want to share you. What we have, I've never had before. I want to be the center of your universe, for a while at least."

Oh, Christian. "You are. That's not going to change."

He gives me an indulgent, sad, resigned smile. "Ana," he whispers. "That's just not true."

Tears prick my eyes.

"How can it be?" he murmurs.

Oh, no.

"Shit—don't cry, Ana. Please, don't cry." He caresses my face.

"I'm sorry." My lower lip trembles, and he brushes his thumb over it, soothing me.

"No, Ana, no. Don't be sorry. You'll have someone else to love as well. And you're right. That's how it should be."

"Blip will love you, too. You'll be the center of Blip's—Junior's world," I whisper. "Children love their parents unconditionally, Christian. That's how they come into the world. Programmed to love. All babies . . . even you. Think about that children's book you liked when you were small. You still wanted your mom.

You loved her."

He furrows his brow and withdraws his hand, fisting it against his chin.

"No," he whispers.

"Yes. You did." My tears flow freely now. "Of course you did. It wasn't an option. That's why you're so hurt."

He stares at me, his expression raw.

"That's why you're able to love me," I murmur. "Forgive her. She had her own world of pain to deal with. She was a shitty mother, and you loved her."

He gazes at me, saying nothing, eyes haunted—by memories I can't begin to fathom.

Oh, please don't stop talking.

Eventually he says, "I used to brush her hair. She was pretty."

"One look at you and no one would doubt that."

"She was a shitty mother." His voice is barely audible.

I nod and he closes his eyes. "I'm scared I'll be a shitty father."

I stroke his dear face. Oh, my Fifty, Fifty, Fifty. "Christian, do you think for one minute I'd let you be a shitty father?"

He opens his eyes and gazes at me for what feels like an eternity. He smiles as relief slowly illuminates his face. "No, I don't think you would." He caresses my face with the back of his knuckles, gazing at me in wonder. "God, you're strong, Mrs. Grey. I love you so much." He kisses my forehead. "I didn't know I could."

"Oh, Christian," I whisper, trying to contain my emotions.

"Now, that's the end of your bedtime story."

"That's some bedside story . . . "

He smiles wistfully, but I think he's relieved. "How's your head?"

"My head?" Actually, it's about to explode with all you've told me!

"Does it hurt?"

"No."

"Good. I think you should sleep now."

Sleep! How can I sleep after all that?

"Sleep," he says sternly. "You need it."