l address?
He knows my shoe size, an e-mail address is hardly
going to present him with many problems.
Can I see him again? Could I bear it? Do I want to see
him? I close my eyes and tilt my head back as grief and
longing lance through me. Of course I do.
Perhaps, perhaps I can tell him I’ve changed my
mind . . . No, no, no. I cannot be with someone who takes
pleasure in inflicting pain on me, someone who can’t love
me.
Torturous memories flash through my mind—the
gliding, holding hands, kissing, the bathtub, his gentleness,
his humor, and his dark, brooding, sexy stare. I miss him.
It’s been five days, five days of agony that has felt like an
eternity.
I wrap my arms around my body, hugging myself
tightly, holding myself together. I miss him. I really miss
him . . . I love him. Simple.
I cry myself to sleep at night, wishing I hadn’t walked
out, wishing that he could be different, wishing that we
were together. How long will this hideous overwhelming
feeling last? I am in purgatory.
Anastasia Steele, you are at work! I must be strong,
but I want to go to José’s show, and deep down, the
masochist in me wants to see Christian. Taking a deep
breath, I head back to my desk.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Tomorrow
Date: June 8, 2011 14:25
To: Christian Grey
Hi Christian
Thank you for the flowers; they are lovely.
Yes, I would appreciate a lift.
Thank you.
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP
Checking my phone, I find that it is still switched to divert.
Jack is in a meeting, so I quickly call José.
“Hi, José. It’s Ana.”
“Hello, stranger.” His tone is so warm and welcoming
it’s almost enough to push me over the edge again.
it’s almost enough to push me over the edge again.
“I can’t talk long. What time should I be there
tomorrow for your show?”
“You’re still coming?” He sounds excited.
“Yes, of course.” I smile my first genuine smile in five
days as I picture his broad grin.
“Seven thirty.”
“See you then. Good-bye, José.”
“Bye, Ana.”
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