"Are the violinists here yet?" I ask Taylor as we all make our way up the walk at my parents' house. The kids are skipping ahead and Ana and Gail are chit-chatting about some new meatloaf recipe. Like when is there anything new about meatloaf? Look at the photographer, he's a perfect example. Thank Mary, Joseph and Phoebe's Unicorn Poop Fairy that he won't be here tonight. My birthday is the one celebration his invitation is mysteriously lost to.

"They'll be up and ready at nine o'clock, sir," Taylor says.

"Why so late?"

"It doesn't take too long to set up violins, Mr. Grey. You just put them under your chin and go." One would think he was being sarcastic, but one does not know Taylor.

"Thank you, Taylor, for that philharmonic worthy music lesson." I shake my head. "Just make sure the ice sculpture isn't dripping into the sparkling grape juice fountain. I don't want the flavor watered down. And see to it that the roses don't look depressed."

"How should I go about that, sir?"

"Have them repeat self motivational messages to themselves and pop Xanax." I roll my eyes. He still looks so serious. "How do you think? Make sure they've been hydrated properly. I don't want their edges all withered up like their best day was last week. I want fresh, springtime. Looking ahead to many more years of a bright, happy, rose scented future."

"Yes, sir. I'll give them a spritz before you go."

"Good. There is no room for error. Everything tonight has to be perfect."

"Of course, sir."

"What are you two whispering about?" Ana asks, stopping midway up the path and then taking my arm when we reach her. Hell, I don't remember my parent's walk being so long from the driveway. Maybe I am getting old. No wonder my grandfather always tries to park on the lawn.

"We're just discussing the list of tomorrow's activities," I say as we begin to walk again.

"I thought you gave him the night off," she says as he walks ahead to find Gail.

"This is off for Taylor. He's going to sit down with us to eat pork."

"Taylor, you aren't to listen to him anymore tonight," Ana says. "Enjoy the evening."

"You know what my 'tivities are gonna be on my list tomorrow, Dad?" Teddy asks, grabbing my other hand and hopping over the cracks to save his mother's back, I suppose.

"Homework, eating broccoli and following all your father's rules?"

He shakes his head and laughs. I didn't think so.

"I'm gonna dig for worms and make them a worm zoo in a box with so much dirt the yard may be all gone when you get home."

"Thanks for the warning." We've got over ten acres out there. How much dirt do these worms need? I think I asked that about Welch and his team last week while discussing pay hikes.

"And then I'm gonna play super soaker wars with Fritzy," he says.

"Good idea," I say. "But, do it all at our house. Fritzy's father falls asleep too much when friends come over." I don't want to tell him he gets pass-out-drunk on odd afternoons with bimbos he meets online. Since Fritzy is Teddy's best friend, his father has been under surveillance. Fritzy's mother should be declared a saint. Either that or brain dead.

"Well, well, well, we were afraid you weren't coming to you your own birthday celebration," my father says, greeting us at the wide open door, along with my mother who smothers Ana and the kids with hugs and kisses.

"We were a little delayed, as something unexpectedly came up," I say and look to Ana, who promptly nudges me a good one with her hip. Hell, thinking about that lingerie she's got under that dress, that something's coming up again.

"Don't worry, I knew you'd be here," my mother says, giving me a wink and giggling like she just sucked a balloon. Jesus, why not just run a ticker-tape across your forehead saying Christian has a surprise for Ana with mapped out directions to the boathouse?

"Wouldn't miss pork tenderloin for the world," I say.

"Neither would I," Taylor says, practically salivating all over my Gucci loafers. It's odd to see him so casual and cheery tonight. Hell, I'm in a full suit and he's wearing a light sweater and khaki pants, and practically a smile. Practically. Though, to this day no one's ever seen his teeth. I didn't know he owned anything other than funeral black and camouflage. But, ever since his pastel getup at the gender reveal party, he's been full of casual man surprises.

"We're so glad you could join us," my mother says to Gail and they hug and exchange pleasantries. "Oh and Ana, I'm getting so excited for my new grand-babies to get here."

"One more month," Ana says, stroking her belly and I reach over to do the same.

"My brothers are gonna be called Sky Robin and Rainbow Daisee, but with two e letters on the butt part of daisy, 'cause daisy with a y is for girls because it's a dancing letter," Phoebe says and my mother looks at me like we've just joined the commune. I'm still trying to figure out what exactly "the butt part of daisy" entails, why a y has more rhythm than a double e, and why dancing is just for girls. What would Fred Astaire say to all this?

"No, they're gonna be Rocky and Dave-Tommy," Teddy says and a tongue sticking out contest ensues. How the hell did he come up with Dave-Tommy?

"Okay, kids." I pull them apart. "We haven't made the official decision yet."

"Pee-bee!" Ava yells from the entrance of the main hall and starts running towards us, her blonde mane flying behind her. She's missing a shoe and she's stepping all over her dress to get to where she's going. Just like Kate on those early Sunday morning-afters in college.

"Ava!" Phoebe squeals and just as I get her arms out of the sleeves of her jacket she takes off for her cousin.

"So much has gone on in my life since I last sawed you a majillion years ago!" Phoebe says as they hug each other tightly and jump up and down.

"Actually, that was two days ago," I say.

"That many?" Phoebe asks, shocked.

If Ava's here, you know who won't be far behind...

"I'm on my second martini waiting for you guys," Kavanagh says, as she saunters out from the living room in some black ruffled number that looks like she's dressing for my funeral and hopes to snag a guy while she's crying her crocodile tears over my coffin. Her blue cheese stuffed olive has fallen from the toothpick into the glass and it's created a murky cloud/toxic waste effect. Fitting.

"Just another start to a Tuesday night," I tease and she smirks.

"Christian, you're so dressed up," she says as she gives Ana a hug and slops a splash of vodka onto the floor. Granted, she probably didn't calculate the reach of Ana's belly into her hug equation, but she's still a mess. "And Ana you're wearing red satin?"'she gives her the once over and I can see her tabloid reporter mind start to stir.

"It's Christian's birthday. He wanted us both to look nice," Ana says and Kavanagh turns her eyes to me. This does feel like my birthday eight years ago. At least this time she doesn't have my secrets in writing.

"This isn't the Kennedy conspiracy, Katherine. We're just being festive," I say, but she doesn't look convinced. "We can't all be a slave to denim like my brother."

"My ears are burning," Elliot says, coming out from the hallway in, of course, jeans and button up shirt. "Someone talking about me?" I want to tell him no, it's just because you married the devil that parts of your body feel like they're on fire, but I refrain.

"Uncle El," Teddy says, running up to him. "Will you show me that magic trick again?"

"What magic trick?" I ask.

"The one where he pulls his finger," Teddy says.

"Please do not teach my son that one," I say and Elliot laughs.

"It's all good," Elliot says. "I got more tricks up my sleeve than that one."

"Cool!" Teddy says and follows him to the main room. I can hear the fart noses well after they disappear into the hall.

"Girls, you want to help grandma in the kitchen?" Grace asks Ava and Phoebe who are complementing each other on their hair and accessories.

"Just 'cause I'm a girl, doesn't mean I gotta live in the kitchen," Ava says, like she memorized it. Hell, where'd she learn that speech, I wonder. I look over to a smiling Kavanagh.

"I'm not living there," Phoebe says. "I just wanna get there first and eat all of the best chocolate before the boys get it." That's my girl. She'll be a CEO in no time.

"How about I help, too?" Carrick says and takes both girls' hands as they skip off to the kitchen with him and my mom.

"I'll give you a hand as well," Gail calls out.

"Heavens no," Grace says. "You're guests. Enjoy the cheese platter and hors d'oeuvres in family room."

Taylor stands there looking at me for a moment. I'm beginning to get creeped out.

"What's wrong?" I ask him.

"Will you be needing anything else, sir?"

"No, Taylor. Go eat your cheese," I say and he and Gail head off. Hell, I won't be surprised if he asks me if he can pick his teeth and wipe his ass later. But, he better water my flowers.

"I'm going to refill my drink," Kate says and walks to the bar off the kitchen.

"Shall we?" I say to Ana, motioning to the hall leading to the guests. 

"Yes, Sir," she says and winks as she takes my arm.

"If you don't stop with that, I will take you upstairs to my old bedroom right now and fuck you senseless there."

"Incentive, huh?" She giggles.

"Behave." I kiss her on the head.

"Have you enjoyed your birthday so far, Mr. Grey?" she asks as we walk.

"It's been perfect. And it's about to get even more perfect." I stop and look at her and smile, then lean in for a kiss. And just as I think the night will go exactly as I planned, a flash blinds me. I pull my lips from Ana's and throw my hands over her in protection. At first I think I've been shot or a bomb has gone off, but I quickly realize it's worse—it's the photographer.

"Smile guys," he says and flashes a few more off. "Happy birthday, Christian." He reaches out to shake my hand, but it's clenched at a fist at my side. I don't lift it for fear it will spontaneously crack his jaw.

"Jose," I say, biting my teeth. "You're here."

"Wouldn't miss it," he says. "Hey Ana." He hugs her and I manually remove his tentacles and pull her aside.

"Would you excuse us for a moment?" I say to him. "The Mrs. and I need to discuss something."

"Sure man, I was just gonna use the little boys' room." Appropriate. He scampers off.

"Ana, I told you I didn't want him here," I say, shocked and hurt that she would go against my birthday wishes.

"I didn't invite him," she whispers and tries to hush me.

"What? What do you mean? He's here."

"I knew you didn't want him at your birthday. I wouldn't do that to you."

"Who the hell would do this to me?"

I look across the room and see Vodka and Kavanagh—in that order—traipsing across the foyer.

"Thank you so much for the gift," I say to her, stopping her in her tracks.

"I didn't get you anything," she says.

"He's talking about you inviting Jose," Ana says.

"What? I didn't invite Jose," she says.

"Oh right," I say.

"I didn't. I haven't spoken to him for weeks, until tonight. I thought Ana invited him."

"I didn't," Ana says.

"What about Elliot?" I ask.

"What about me?" Elliot asks, all of sudden appearing in the doorway. What, does he have dog whistle hearing all of a sudden? Every time I call him he's at my feet. Maybe it's Kavanagh's home training.

"Don't fuck with me, Elliot. Did you invite the photographer?"

"Was I supposed to? I thought my iPhone would do the trick." He laughs. "Don't worry, I'll use filters on you before I post on my Facebook.

"Not a real photographer—Jose!"

"No, man. I thought Ana did."

"I didn't. I swear," she says.

"Did Mom do this?" I ask.

"I highly doubt it," he says. "That'd be all kinds of weird if Mom was texting Jose."

"Then, why the hell is he here?" I ask.

"Dude, why are you so inhospitable?" he asks. "Loosen up and love all people, man."

"Well, I guess that mantra got you through the first decade of the 21st century," I say.

"Hey, second decade is standing right here," Kavanagh says. 

"Okay, let's not get all upset about this," Ana says.

"You're right, I don't want you stressed out," I say to Ana, stroking her back. "But, I just don't know who could have done this."

"Happy birthday, Christian!"

In a blur, arms are thrown around me and my ear drums are nearly blown from the squealing, and I immediately know who—Mia. 

I'm just about to ask her when the little weasel returns from the John smelling like my mother's lilac hand soap.

"You guys almost forgot to invite Jose," Mia says. "But, I took care of it and now the whole gang is together for your birthday," Mia says, putting one arm around Jose and one arm around me. "Isn't this just the best?!"

I grimace. Happy fucking birthday to me.

#######

"When Christian turned nine we took him down to California to see that place with all the whales," my grandfather says as my mother and the German girl—I still don't know her fucking name or why she hasn't finished her foreign exchange program in eight years—put the platters of food on the table.

"Sea World?" Ana asks, her eyes fixed on Goldie Braids as she holds tight to my hand. She's still jealous and staking her claim after all these years. I like it.

"No, the beach," Grandpa Theo says. "I'd never seen so many fat people letting it all hang out in one place."

"You weren't looking so hot yourself, you old coot," my grandmother says.

"You didn't say that when we got back to our room at night."

"Dad," Grace says, shaking her head.

"Mom, did you make sure the pork was cooked sufficiently?" I whisper, nodding in the direction of Ana and the children. "Listeria is no joke."

"Yes, of course, dear," she says as she plates the tenderloin.

I look across the way to Mia and Jose laughing it up about something. All the whispers and smiles are making me uncomfortable. And not the normal level of uncomfortable I get from whispering, smiling people—worse.

"What's up with those two?" I lean over and whisper to Ana.

"Who?" Ana asks and I casually nod to Mia and Mr. Party Crasher.

"Don't they seem a bit too friendly?" I ask.

"Christian, they're friends."

"And?"

"It may be news to you, but friends are normally friendly."

"Are you saying I'm not?"

"You are to me." She gives me a kiss on the cheek.

"I could be even friendlier," I say as I work my fingers up her leg under the table. She slides my hand away when I get too close to the promised land. She's always so funny about me fingering her at my parent's dinner table.

"Uncle Jose, Uncle Jose," Phoebe and Ava say, crawling all over him.

"Hey girls," he says and hugs them. Ana immediately firms her grip on my hand, much like a balloon she fears suddenly might fly off, strangle a winged demon, and pop drop the fucker and his camera into the ocean.

"We missed you!" Ava says.

"Yeah, Daddy said you wasn't gonna be here," Phoebe says. "But look, here you are!"

I shake my head with a grimace.

"Phoebe, come take your seat, before your food gets all cold," I point to the chair next to me and—after hugging the photographer goodbye like they're leaving for war—she and Ava scurry over and take their places. I immediately start to cut the meat on Phoebe's plate. It's like second nature. She'll be sixteen and I'll just find myself cutting away.

"Thank you, Daddy," she says. "You make the best chew pieces for my teeths."

"You're welcome," I smile.

Taylor is chatting it up with my grandfather about launching missiles in the desert and which freeze dried foods give you the runs. I hope Taylor remembers to check on the boathouse. He's started in on the scotch.

"I'd like to propose a toast," Carrick says, standing at the head of the table. "When a father watches his son when he's small he has a lot of hopes and dreams for him. When you were ten, Christian, and you hit that home run that won the game in extra innings, I thought you might be a great ballplayer—"

"Then he struck out," Elliot teases.

"Thank you, Elliot." I roll my eyes.

"But seriously," Carrick says, a bit emotional. "There's nothing a father wants more than to see his child happy. And seeing the life you have built with Ana and your children, makes me the proudest father around." He sniffs back a tear.

"Thank you, Dad," I say, and I'm a bit emotional as well. Ana must sense this, as she squeezes my hand.

Carrick raises a glass and we all clink a toast and drink. It was surprisingly short and sweet, and I think that it's over—but it's not.

"Now, if we could go around the table and say a few words or an anecdote about the birthday boy—"

"Dad, no please," I say, holding up a hand.

"I'd like to start," Elliot says and stands up with his beer in hand. "Bro, I cried and screamed when they brought you home. And I prayed every night for the stork to take you back."

"Elliot, what a gift your words are." I shake my head and take a sip of Pinot.

"But, I eventually accepted that you were staying and then that's when we had some good times," Elliot says. "Out of everybody I know, there's no one I'd rather have had to go rafting with or throw apples at or have keep watch when Mom and Dad were in bed and I went couch surfing..."

"Oh Elliot!" Grace says.

"What's couch surfing?" Teddy asks.

"Nothing you'll ever do," I say.

"Is that like carpet munching?" my grandfather asks.

"Dad!" Grace says, horrified.

"Yuck, who would want to eat carpet?" Teddy asks and I shake my head, hoping I have at least ten more years before he asks that question again.

"But, the time I remember most is when I was hanging out with Mr. cob-up-his-butt Grey..."

"He said butt," Teddy says and the kids double over in hysterics. Elliot should go on the road with a show—potty humor from the porcelain god himself.

"Well, this guy gets a call from a certain little lady..." Elliot looks at Ana. "And he goes nuts. He starts jumping around. I thought there was a fire at the Heathman or something. But, he tells me we have to go to some bar in the middle of the night on the outskirts of Portland to find this girl. She could be in trouble. He can barely get his shoes on the right feet to get to the door..."

I look over to Jose who has a cringeworthy smile on his face, I'm sure remembering that night. The beginning of my life was the end of his. I almost feel bad for the guy. Almost.

"Anyway," Elliot continues. "Long story short, he found the girl and so did I." He looks to Kavanagh, who smiles back up at him. "And I'm thankful that the stork didn't answer my prayers and pick you back up and give you to the gorillas in the jungle to raise."

"Thank you, Elliot," I say.

"And you're easy to beat at pool, too." He sits back down.

"Tell me about it," Ana says. I look over to her. Naughty minx.

"Oh, I'm ready for you to lose a round," I whisper in her ear and stroke her belly. Though, I think that will have to happen a few months postnatal.  Getting her up on that pool table right now would send us both to the hospital.

The torch is passed from person to person as we eat and they go around the table giving thanks for me, remembering funny stories and sometimes shedding a tear. I feel like I'm at my own wake. The only thing reminding me I'm still alive is my stirring erection as I run my hand along Ana's satin covered leg under the table.

"Even though Uncle Christian makes us wear our sweaters to the beach and we gotta look both ways four times when we cross a street, even if it's just a sidewalk, he's kinda funny and he knows how to play with dolls," Ava says.

"My Daddy is the most funnest Daddy ever," Phoebe says. "He's like a boy during the daytimes, then when gets home he is a princess and has the prettiest eyes to do make-ups on, and he lets me curl his hair and he wears princess stuff..."

"I always knew, Bro," Elliot says. "I always knew." I cup a hand around my face and mouth to him to "fuck off."

"My Dad is the coolest because he plays baseball with me and we ride bikes and we talk man stuff and I wanna be just like him when I grow up."

"Nothing would make me prouder." I smile at Teddy, then look to my Dad. I could never appreciate the love my father had for me growing up until I had Teddy. And now I truly do know.

"I'd like to say something," Jose says.

Oh hell.

"I've known Christian for about as long as Ana and Kate have..." he says. "And, well, I never had too much family. Mainly just my dad and me..." What about his grandmother that hawks all the cars? Why have we never met her, anyway? Do they abandon her on holidays to spend them with us? "And you didn't have to, but you invited me into your lives and into your homes... And now I'm just grateful all of you are in my life. Like my family."

"Who is he?" my grandfather whispers and my grandmother stuffs a roll in his mouth.

"So, I want to say to you, Christian..." Jose raises his beer and looks right at me, like he's just had an ass wax, and though he's trying, he can't hold back the tears. "Thanks for being like the brother I never had."

"Thank you, Jose." I smile and give him an appreciative nod. I never expected such a display of affection from the photographer. When all the women are chatting Mr. Don Juan Wonderful up, I lean over Phoebe to whisper to Taylor, "Put him under surveillance tomorrow."

"He already is, sir," Taylor whispers back.

"Heavier," I say. No one's that brotherly unless they're up to something.

"Okay, enough of the anecdotes," I say. "Everyone enjoy the beautiful meal my mother's prepared." The quicker we eat, the quicker we cut the cake, and the quicker I get Ana out to the boathouse.

"Let me say something," Ana says.

"You don't have to Ana," I say and kiss the side of her head. "You can tell me later, baby." Like after I've slipped that ring on your finger and we've fucked in the rose petals.

"I want everyone to hear," she says and brushes my cheek with her fingertips. "Eight years ago my husband and I got engaged on his birthday. And it was the best day of my life. I had no idea what lay ahead for us, but I knew that no matter what, I wanted it to be with him. So, I feel like he has given me the best gift I could ever possibly have hoped for on his birthday. He's given me not only himself, but my home, all of you, and my children..." She looks to Teddy and Phoebe and brushes her belly, and I can faintly see our babies moving beneath the satin. "You always say I've given you everything..." She takes my hand and squeezes it. "Well, back at you, Mr. Grey."

"Oh, Ana," I say, misty with emotion, and I can't help myself. I take her face with my hands and bring her in for a kiss. This woman that I would give my life for, gives me life itself.

"Get a room," Elliot says.

"That a boy!" my grandfather says. "Knocked up with two and still going for more."

"Dad!" Grace scolds.

"Let's get out of here, Ana," I whisper in her ear.

"What?" she asks. "We're in the middle of dinner."

"It's okay. They'll understand." I look to my mother and she smiles and nods her approval. I stand, then take Ana's hand, and with gentle effort help her up from her chair.

"Excuse us," I say and start to escort Ana out.

"I didn't literally mean get one right now," Elliot says.

"Hot damn! That's my red blooded boy!" my grandfather says.

"Mommy and Daddy is in love," Phoebe says and I look back at her and give her a wink and she giggles.

"Do we still get to eat the cake?" Elliot asks, but we're out of the room before I can hear the answer. Let them all eat cake, I've got my Ana. 

"Where are we going?" Ana asks, but I don't answer her as I lead her out the back doors and underneath the apple tree, where we kissed so many moons ago at that first ball.

"Let me look at you here," I say, stopping at that very spot under my old bedroom window. I hold her face and watch as the moonlight glimmers in her baby blues and sparkles on her skin. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in that silver gown with the feathered mask on that young summer night, but right now in red satin and about to burst with our two sons, she's nothing short of magnificent.

"What is it?" she asks, looking into my eyes, searching.

"You," I say. "It's always only ever been you." And I kiss her there under those limbs heavy with fruit and summer and the promise of more.

A crackle of thunder sounds. We pull away from our kiss to catch a flash of lightning breaking through the clouds as raindrops begin to fall.

Oh shit. We're already halfway there. Going back would be as much effort as going forward, so I chose to do what I've always done with Ana—take her hand and fly.

"We'd better hurry," I say and remove my jacket to hold over her in the light rain.

"You still haven't told me where we're going," she says as I lead the way down the green tree lined path. I laugh to myself, remembering me carrying her down this same path that first dinner with my family, sans panties, and with all together different intentions.

"I know," I say and she scrunches her nose and squints her eyes trying to figure me out.  The rain begins to fall harder. I'm getting drenched, but at least she's staying mostly dry beneath the wool of my jacket. The thunder and lightning provide a dramatic soundtrack to this romantic jaunt through my parent's estate.

Finally we reach the boat house and I stop at the door, the awning overhead shielding us from the storm.

"I promised you I'd never stop giving you hearts and flowers," I say, as I turn the knob and open the door. I expect to see a room filled with roses, violinists at the ready, and a bed scattered with petals. What we find is a room full of I don't know what the fuck garden variety of flowers, unlit candles, and one violinist who looks to be north of one-hundred-and-two.

"Where is everyone?" I ask, stopping him midway through The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.

"They didn't show up because of the rain," he says, then continues on. What the hell?

"Since when are violinists afraid of weather?"

"Water harms the wood."

"Why aren't you afraid, then?"

"I'm eighty-nine. I don't care if my wood lasts."

He continues on. He's played so much about the first time seeing her face I wish it was the last time I was seeing his. Fuck. Taylor didn't check on this. Of course not; he was too busy chin-wagging about dehydrated cabbage and launching explosives—both in the toilet and out. That's it—I'll never let him relax and eat cheese or drink scotch again.

"And I didn't order this mess of flowers," I say, pointing to the poorly arranged bouquets. "I ordered my wife's wedding roses. Do these look like Anastasia Rose roses to you?"

"Not my job," the violinist says, briefly stopping to spit out the words, then continuing again. Hell, he doesn't quit no matter what. He reminds me of one of those guys who played 'till the water hit his nose on the Titanic.

"This whole thing was supposed to be different," I say.

"Christian—" Ana says.

"You were supposed to have rose petals on your satin sheets, not dandelions."

"Christian—" Ana says again.

"It was supposed to be better than the first time." I run my hands through my hair. "It was supposed to be more."

"Christian," Ana says for a third time, taking hold of my shoulders and turning me to face her. "Don't you see? It is."

I look at her for a moment, then let out a sigh. "But, it's not how I planned."

"You're right, it's not." She smiles and strokes my cheek. "Nothing with us ever has been."

She takes my hand and leads me to a large bouquet of mismatched blooms that sits by the edge of the bed.

"These remind me of our meadow flowers," she says, picking one up and smelling it. "And the scent brings me back to when you took me to our house when it was being remodeled and I was first pregnant with Teddy, and we had that picnic..."

I smile. The first time she showed me our little blip. That small picture sits in a frame on my desk at the center of all our family pictures. The start of it all.

"And I love the unlit candles," she says.

"You do? Why?" I ask.

"It reminds me of the night of the first ball when you lit all those candles and nearly caught the place on fire and Taylor had to put them out..."

"Yes, I remember that." I was such a fool for her then. I still am.

"And I love the fact that we can light them together." She takes a candle lighter propped on a table that someone obviously intended to use but forgot, and holding to my hand we light each wick.  

"And I love this song," she says, nodding to the old man playing, and then taking both of my hands in hers as in the start of a dance. "Because you made love to me in our playroom to this on your birthday, after I said yes."

"Are you attempting to lead, Mrs. Grey?" I ask as she starts to move us to the song.

"You always said I was good at topping from the bottom."

"That you are." I smile.

Her belly is so big now, but I pull her as close as I can to dance with her. It feels different and yet the same as it did that night eight years ago. It's as if a lifetime has passed, but not a moment. 

"This was a beautiful surprise," she says, her cheek nestled into my chest as the song finishes.

"You ain't seen nothing yet." I smile and kiss the top of her head.

"Any requests?" the violinist asks.

"You may leave," I say to the old timer.

"How's that?" he asks, cupping an ear.

"You may leave," I say louder.

"Didn't you like my song?"

"It was wonderful, but we'd like to be alone now," I say and raise a brow. He looks confused at first, but then looks to the bed and then to me and his face lights up with a smile. Maybe I should introduce him to my grandfather. They can yuck it up about my sex life all night.

"Do I still get my full paycheck?" he asks.

"Yes and you'll get all of the rest of those idiots' checks who didn't show up, too," I say. He's tried so hard, why the hell not.

"That's three more pay checks," he says.

"Don't spend it all in one place," I say. "And make sure they all know about it."

"Alrighty! You've got a keeper there, Mrs. Grey," he says to Ana.

"I know." She smiles and looks up to me, eyes brimming with happy tears, as he heads out. 

"So, do you want to get more comfortable, Mr. Grey?" she asks as she starts to unbutton my soaked shirt.  God, her hands feel so good touching my chest.

"Yes, but not just yet," I say, removing her fingertips from my buttons. "I wanted to say something to you, tonight..." I step back and pull a folded up paper out from my pocket. It's all wet and the ink has run all over the place, but still I unfold it to read. There's no way these words won't be said. "I'm not always good at putting how I feel into words...so I wrote this down."

"Oh Christian," she says.

"Eight years and five weeks ago I first saw you." An ink stained water droplet falls to the floor. Perhaps a part of this writing will remain stained in the planks of this wood forever, as will the story of our love. "I didn't know what to make of you. You were stunning and sweet, but then a bit sassy, with this energy I couldn't quite bridle, but for the life of me I wanted to try." She laughs and I can't help but grin. "You kept me on my toes in the first five minutes I knew you, and I hadn't yet discovered that I liked that. I would in the coming weeks. I would discover a lot of things. By the end of that interview I didn't know if I would ever see you again and some part of me was frustratingly resigned to the fact that you would go. But, then you said my name. And it was unlike anyone had said my name before. There was no want or judgement or even pity in the way your voice held the letters of who I was. There was a kindness and a compassion and the name I had carried for so long with shame and pain and burden didn't feel so heavy when you said it. I couldn't process it then, why you calling me by name struck me so deeply, but now I can." I look up to her and a tear rolls down her cheek as my eyes well. "You knew me already, like no one ever has or ever will... and you still said my name."

She stands still for a moment, watching me, then rushes forward and wraps her arms around my neck, sobbing into my shoulder.

"What's wrong?" I ask, stroking her hair.

"Nothing. It's all perfect. I love this. I love you so much."

"I love you so much, baby." I pull away to look at her. My Ana. "And, I have something else..." I step back and put my paper in my pocket, replacing it in my hand with a familiar red box. She gasps seeing it, and I bring myself to one knee before her.

"Anastasia, I asked you to marry me all those years ago. Everyone thought we were too young, and we didn't know what we were doing, that we were just caught up in the throes of passion...or they thought you were knocked up..." We both laugh as I am directly facing her belly. "Little did they know how knocked up you would eventually be, or how often." She giggles. "But seriously, if I could go back and do it all again, I would do one thing very different..." She frowns, but then I smile. "I would've asked you sooner."

I open the box and she brings a hand to her mouth upon seeing the ring, and her eyes sparkle more brilliantly than anything in that box.

"Anastasia Rose Steele Grey," I say. "Will you marry me again and again and again...?

"Yes!" she says. "Again and again and again." She nods and the tears are streaming down her cheeks. I sniffle back a few tears of my own and I place the ring on her finger. It fits perfectly. Good job, Donald.

"It's spectacular," she says. "But, it's way too much—" I stop her protestations with a kiss.

"I think we should do exactly what we did here eight years ago," I murmur against her lips and then look to the bed.

"I'd say I agree," she says and our kissing deepens.

I'm sliding the straps of her dress off her shoulders and freeing a breast from the lace of her bra with my teeth when my phone vibrates in my pocket. Fuck! I want to ignore it, but what if it's an emergency? The worried father in me beats out the horny husband and pulls it out.

"What is it?" Ana asks, breathless and still working on unbuttoning my shirt as I read the text.

"It's my mom," I say. "She says the kids are scared of the thunder, so she's staying up with them. Not to worry..."

"Oh no," Ana says. "Well, they do always like to come into bed with us during storms." She looks out the window at the rain. "But, they'll be okay with your mom..."

"Yeah..."

We both look at each other. Half undressed and hotter for each other than even we were back then. We know what we both want to do. What we need to do.

"Mrs. Grey, would you take a—pun definitely intended—rain check so we can go see about our children now?"

"Yes, that sounds like a perfect idea." She kisses me. "I love you."

"This certainly is different than it was all those years ago," I say.

"Yes, it certainly is," she smiles.

I pick up an umbrella from a holder and open it for her once we step outside. And we walk back to the house together; our celebratory, hot-as-hell lovemaking put on hold for hot cocoa, snuggles and four of us—make that almost six of us— squeezed into my childhood bed.

Taylor was right before. I am one lucky son of a bitch.

The babies are coming soon...