Fifty Shades Darker (book 5) novel Chapter 170

“Gone.”

Ana grins. “I’m sorry you lost a friend.”

“Are you?”

“No,” she says, sardonically.

“Come.” I stand and offer her my hand. “Let’s join the party in our honor. I might even get drunk.”

“Do you get drunk?”

“Not since I was a wild teenager.” We walk down the stairs. “Have you eaten?”

Ana looks guilty. “No.”

“Well, you should. From the look and smell of Elena, that was one of my father’s lethal cocktails you threw on her.”

“Christian, I—”

I hold up my hand. “No arguing, Anastasia. If you’re going to drink and toss alcohol on my exes, you need to eat. It’s rule number one. I believe we’ve already had that discussion after our first night together.”

An image of her lying comatose on my bed at The Heathman comes to mind. We stop in the hallway and I caress her face, my fingers skimming her jaw. “I lay awake for hours and watched you sleep,” I whisper. “I might have loved you even then.” Leaning down I kiss her, and she melts against me.

“Eat.” I motion toward the kitchen.

“Okay,” she says.

I CLOSE THE DOOR, having bid farewell to Dr. Flynn and his wife.

Finally. I can be alone with Ana. It’s just the family left. Grace has had too much to drink and is in the den, murdering “I Will Survive” on the Karaoke machine with Mia and Katherine.

“Do you blame her?” Ana asks.

I narrow my eyes. “Are you smirking at me, Miss Steele?”

“I am.”

“It’s been quite a day.”

“Christian, recently, every day with you has been quite a day.”

“Fair point well made, Miss Steele. Come. I want to show you something.” I lead her through the hall into the kitchen.

Carrick, Elliot, and Ethan Kavanagh are arguing about the Mariners.

“Off for a stroll?” Elliot taunts us as we head to the French doors, but I give him the finger and otherwise ignore him.

Outside, it’s a mild night. I usher Ana up the stone steps to the lawn, where she takes off her shoes and pauses for a moment to admire the view. The half-moon is high above the bay, illuminating a bright silvery path across the water. Seattle is lit up and twinkling as a backdrop.

We walk, hand in hand, toward the boathouse. It’s lit inside and out and the beckoning light is our guide.

“Christian, I’d like to go to church tomorrow,” Ana says.

“Oh?”

When was the last time I was in church? I recall her background information; I don’t remember her being religious.