and a leaflet, she continues to talk at me, but I’m not
listening. I’m in shock. Overwhelmed. Surely I should be happy. Surely I
should be thirty . . . at least. This is too soon—far too soon. I try to quell my
rising sense of panic.
I wish Dr. Greene a polite goodbye and head in a daze back down to the exit
and out into the cool fall afternoon. I’m gripped suddenly by a creeping cold
and deep sense of foreboding. Christian is going to freak, I know, but how
much and how far, I ha一ve no idea. His words haunt me. “I’m not ready to
share you yet.” I pull my jacket tighter around me, trying to shake off the cold.
share you yet.” I pull my jacket tighter around me, trying to shake off the cold.
Sawyer leaps out of the SUV and holds open the door. He frowns when he
sees my face, but I ignore his concerned expression.
“Where to, Mrs. Grey?” he asks gently.
“SIP.” I nestle into the back of the car, closing my eyes and resting my head
on the back seat. I should be happy. I know I should be happy. But I’m not.
This is too early. Far too early. What about my job? What about SIP? What
about Christian and me? No. No. No. We’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. He loved
baby Mia—I remember Carrick telling me—he dotes on her now. Perhaps I
should warn Flynn . . . Perhaps I shouldn’t tell Christian. Perhaps I . . .
perhaps I should end this. I halt my thoughts on that dark path, alarmed at the
direction they’re taking. Instinctively my hand sweeps down to rest
protectively over my belly. No. My little Blip. Tears spring to my eyes. What
am I going to do?
A vision of a little boy with copper-colored hair and bright gray eyes, running
through the meadow at the new house invades my thoughts, teasing and
tantalizing me with possibilities. He’s giggling and squealing with delight as
Christian and I chase him. Christian swings him high in his arms and carries
him on his hip as we walk hand in hand back to the house.
My vision morphs into Christian turning away from me in disgust. I’m fat and
awk
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