And? I’m dying here, Ana.
She looks at me and I have no idea what she’s thinking. It’s unnerving, and annoying. I scowl.
“Mr. Grey. Please don’t look at me that way. Under doctor’s orders I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll see.”
Will she marry me or not? Her winsome smile doesn’t give me any clues.
Hell. She’s not going to tell me. She’s leaving me hanging. “Get in the car,” I snap, and I open her door.
Her phone rings and she gives me a wary look before answering. “Hi,” she says enthusiastically.
Who is it?
“José,” she mouths at me, answering my unspoken question. “Sorry I haven’t called you. Is it about tomorrow?” she says to him, but without looking away from me. “Well, I’m actually staying with Christian right now, and if you want to, he says you can stay at his place.”
Oh yes. He’s delivering the stunning photographs of Ana, his love letters to her.
Embrace her friends, Grey.
She frowns and turns away, crossing the sidewalk to lean against the building.
Is she okay? I watch her carefully. Waiting.
“Yes. Serious,” she answers, her expression stern.
What’s serious?
“Yes,” she responds, and then she scoffs, indignant, “Of course I am…You could pick me up from work…I’ll text you the address…Six?” She grins. “Cool. I’ll see you then.” She hangs up and walks back toward the car.
“How’s your friend?” I ask.
“He’s well. He’ll pick me up from work, and I think we’ll go for a drink. Would you like to join us?”
“You don’t think he’ll try anything?”
“No!”
“Okay.” I hold my hands up. “You hang out with your friend, and I’ll see you later in the evening. See? I can be reasonable.”
She purses her lips—amused, I think. “Can I drive?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Why, exactly?”
“Because I don’t like to be driven.”
“You managed this morning, and you seem to tolerate Taylor driving you.”
“I trust Taylor’s driving implicitly.”
“And not mine?” she exclaims, and puts her hands on her hips. “Honestly, your control-freakishness knows no bounds. I’ve been driving since I was fifteen.”
I shrug. I want to drive.
“Is this my car?”
“Of course it’s your car.”
“Then give me the keys, please. I’ve driven it twice, and only to and from work. Now you’re having all the fun.” She folds her arms, standing firm, stubborn as ever.
“But you don’t know where we’re going.”
“I’m sure you can enlighten me, Mr. Grey. You’ve done a great job of it so far.” And just like that she defuses the moment. She’s the most disarming person I’ve ever met. She won’t answer me. She’s left me hanging, and I want to live the rest of my life with her.
“Great job, eh?” I ask through my smile.
She flushes. “Mostly, yes.” And her eyes are alight with amusement.
“Well, in that case.” I hand her the keys and open the driver’s door for her.
I take a deep breath as she pulls into the traffic. “Where are we going?” she asks, and I have to remind myself that she hasn’t lived in Seattle long enough to know her way around.
“Continue along this street.”
“You’re not going to be more specific?” she asks.
I give her a slight smile.
Tit for tat, baby.
She narrows her eyes.
“At the light, turn right,” I say.
She stops rather too suddenly, throwing us both forward, then indicates and moves on.
“Steady. Ana!”
Her mouth sets in a grim line.
“Left here.” Ana puts her foot down and we speed up the street. “Hell! Gently, Ana.” I grab the dashboard. “Slow down!” She’s doing thirty-eight through the neighborhood!
“I am slowing down!” she shouts as she brakes.
I sigh and get to the heart of what I want to talk about, trying and failing to sound casual. “What did Flynn say?”
“I told you. He says I should give you the benefit of the doubt.” Ana signals to pull over.
“What are you doing?”
“Letting you drive.”
“Why?”
“So I can look at you.”
I laugh. “No, no. You wanted to drive. So you drive, and I’ll look at you.”
She turns to say something to me.
“Keep your eyes on the road!” I shout.
She screeches to a halt just before a traffic light, releases her seatbelt, and storms out of the car, slamming the door.
What the hell?
She stands on the sidewalk with arms crossed in what’s both a defensive and combative pose, glaring at me. I scramble out after her. “What are you doing?” I ask, completely thrown.
“No. What are you doing?”
“You can’t park here.” I point to the abandoned Saab.
“I know that.”
“So why have you?”
“Because I’ve had it with you barking orders. Either you drive or you shut up about my driving!”
“Anastasia, get back in the car before we get a ticket.”
“No.”
I run my hands through my hair. What’s got into her?
I look down at her. I’m at a loss. Her expression changes, softening. Damn it, is she laughing at me? “What?” I ask.
“You.”
“Oh, Anastasia! You are the most frustrating female on the planet.” I throw my hands in the air. “Fine. I’ll drive.”
She grabs my jacket and tugs me against her body. “No. You are the most frustrating man on the planet, Mr. Grey.”
She looks up at me with guileless blue eyes that pull me under and I’m drowning and I’m lost. Lost in a different way. I put my arms around her, holding her close. “Maybe we’re meant for each other, then.” She smells amazing. I should bottle this.
Soothing. Sexy. Ana.
She hugs me hard and rests her cheek against my chest.
“Oh. Ana, Ana, Ana.” I kiss her hair and hold her.
It’s weird, embracing in the street.
Another first. No. A second. I held her on the street near Esclava.
She moves and I release her, and without saying a word, I open the passenger door and she gets in the car.
At the wheel, I start the car and pull into the traffic. There’s a Van Morrison song playing over the sound system and I hum along as we head toward the on-ramp for I-5. “You know, if we had gotten a ticket, the title of this car is in your name,” I tell her.
“Well, good thing I’ve been promoted. I can afford the fine.”
And I hide my amusement as we head north on I-5.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“It’s a surprise. What else did Flynn say?”
“He talked about FFFSTB or something.”
“SFBT. The latest therapy option.”
“You’ve tried others?”
“Baby, I’ve been subjected to them all. Cognitivism, Freud, functionalism, Gestalt, behaviorism. You name it, over the years I’ve done it.”
“Do you think this latest approach will help?”
“What did Flynn say?”
“He said not to dwell on your past. Focus on the future—on where you want to be.”
I nod, but I don’t understand why she hasn’t accepted my proposal.
That’s where I want to be.
Married.