d friends?
No, I won’t tell her. Not right now. I give her my I-completely-understand-andwill-
respect-yourprivacy nod. She reaches for my hand and gives it a grateful
squeeze, and there it is—a swift glimpse of pain and hurt in her eyes that she
quickly stifles with a blink. In that moment I feel a surge of protectiveness for
my dear friend. What the fuck is Elliot Manwhore Grey playing at?
Once back at the house, Kate decides we deserve cocktails after our
shopping extra一vaganza and whips up some strawberry daiquiris for us. We
curl up on the sitting room couches in front of the blazing log fire.
“Elliot has just been a little distant lately,” Kate murmurs, gazing into the
flames. Kate and I finally ha一ve a moment to ourselves as Mia puts away her
purchases.
“Oh?”
“I think I’m in trouble for getting you into trouble,” she adds.
“You heard about that?”
“Yes. Christian called Elliot; Elliot called me.”
I roll my eyes. Oh Fifty, Fifty, Fifty.
“I’m sorry. Christian is . . . protective. You ha一ven’t seen Elliot since
cocktailgate?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
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Fifty Shades Freed
“I really like him, Ana,” she whispers. And for one dreadful minute I think she’s
going to cry. Oh no . . . This is not like Kate. Does this mean the return of the
pink pajamas? She turns to gaze at me.
“I’ve fallen in love with him. At first I thought it was just the great sex. But he’s
charming and kind and warm and funny. I could see us growing old together
—you know . . . kids, grandkids—the works.”
“Your happy ever after,” I whisper.
She nods sadly.
“Maybe you should talk to him. Try and find some alone time here. Find out
what’s eating him.”
Who’s eating him, my subconscious snarls. I slap her down, shocked at the
waywardness of my own thoughts.
“Perhaps you guys could go for a walk tomorrow morning?”
“We’ll see.”
“Kate, I hate seeing you like this.”
She smiles weakly, and I lean over to hug her. I resolve not to mention Gia,
though I might mention it to the manwhore himself. How can he mess
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