Fifty Shades Freed (Christian & Ana)(252)

"Let's head over to the site office. You'll need one of these." He taps his hard hat.

The house is a shell. The floors are covered in a hard fibrous material that looks like burlap; some of the original walls have disappeared and new ones have taken their place. Elliot leads us through, explaining what's happening, while men—and a few women—work everywhere around us. I'm relieved to see the stone staircase with its intricate iron balustrade is still in place and draped completely in white dustsheets.

In the main living area, the back wall has been removed to make way for Gia's glass wall, and work is beginning on the terrace. In spite of the mess, the view is still stunning. The new work is sympathetic and in keeping with the old-world charm of the house . . . Gia's done well. Elliot patiently explains the processes and gives us a rough timeframe for each. He's hoping we can be in by Christmas, although Christian thinks this is optimistic.

Holy cow—Christmas overlooking the Sound. I can't wait. A bubble of excitement blooms inside me. I have visions of us trimming an enormous tree while a copper-haired little boy looks on in wonder.

Elliot finishes our tour in the kitchen. "I'll leave you two to roam. Be careful.

This is a building site."

"Sure. Thanks, Elliot," Christian murmurs, taking my hand. "Happy?" he asks once Elliot has left us alone. I am gazing at this empty shell of a room and wondering where I will hang the pepper pictures that we bought in France.

"Very. I love it. You?"

"Ditto." He grins.

"Good. I was thinking of the pepper pictures in here."

Christian nods. "I want to put up José's portraits of you in this house. You need to decide where they should go."

I blush. "Somewhere I won't see them often."

"Don't be like that." He scolds me, brushing his thumb across my bottom lip.

"They're my favorite pictures. I love the one in my office."

"I have no idea why," I murmur and kiss the pad of his thumb.

"Worse things to do than look at your beautiful smiling face all day.

Hungry?" he asks.

"Hungry for what?" I whisper.

He smirks, his eyes darkening. Hope and desire unfurl in my veins.

"Food, Mrs. Grey." And he plants a swift kiss on my lips.

I give him my faux pout and sigh. "Yes. These days I'm always hungry."

"The three of us can have a picnic."

"Three of us? Is someone joining us?"

Christian cocks his head to one side. "In about seven or eight months."

Oh . . . Blip. I grin goofily at him.

"I thought you might like to eat al fresco."

"In the meadow?" I ask.

He nods.

"Sure." I grin.

"This will be a great place to raise a family," he murmurs, gazing down at me.

Family! More than one? Dare I mention this now?

He spreads his fingers over my belly. Holy shit. I hold my breath and place my hand over his.

"It's hard to believe," he whispers, and for the first time I hear wonder in his voice.

"I know. Oh—here, I have evidence. A picture."

"You do? Baby's first smile?"

I pull out the ultrasound of Blip from my wallet.

"See?"

Christian examines it closely, staring for several seconds. "Oh . . . Blip.

Yeah, I see." He sounds distracted, awed.

"Your child," I whisper.