“Christian!”

I turn my head in time to see Grace barreling across the great room from where she had

been pacing somewhere behind me, and there in the entrance stands a dismayed Christian.

He’s dressed in just his shirtsleeves and suit pants, and he’s holding his navy jacket, shoes,

and socks. He looks tired, dirty, and utterly beautiful.

Holy fuck . . . Christian.He’s alive. I gaze numbly at him, trying to work out if I’m

hallucinating or if he’s really here.

His expression is one of utter bewilderment. He deposits his jacket and shoes on the

floor in time to catch Grace, who throws her arms around his neck and kisses him hard on

the cheek.

“Mom?”

Christian gazes down at her, completely at a loss.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Grace whispers, voicing our collective fear.

“Mom, I’m here.” I hear the consternation in his voice.

“I died a thousand deaths today,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, echoing my

thoughts. She gasps and sobs, no longer able to hold back her tears. Christian frowns, hor-

rified or mortified—I don’t know which—then after a beat, envelops her in a huge hug,

holding her close.

“Oh, Christian,” she chokes, wrapping her arms around him, weeping into his neck—

all self-restraint forgotten—and Christian doesn’t balk. He just holds her, rocking to and

fro, comforting her. Scalding tears pool in my eyes. Carrick hollers from the hallway.

“He’s alive! Shit—you’re here!” He appears from Taylor’s office, clutching his cell

phone, and embraces both of them, his eyes closed in sweet relief.

“Dad?”

Mia squeals something unintelligible from beside me, then she’s up, running, joining

her parents, hugging all of them, too.

Finally the tears start to cascade down my cheeks. He’s here, he’s fine. But I cannot

move.

Carrick is the first to pull away, wiping his eyes and clapping Christian on the shoulder.

Mia releases them and Grace steps back.

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

“Hey, Mom—it’s okay,” Christian says, consternation still evident on his face.

“Where were you? What happened?” Grace cries and puts her head in her hands.

“Mom,” Christian mutters. He draws her into his arms again and kisses the top of her

head. “I’m here. I’m good. It’s just taken me a hell of a long time to get back from Portland.

What’s with the welcoming committee?” He looks up and scans the room until his eyes

lock with mine.

He blinks and glances briefly at José, who lets go of my hand. Christian’s mouth tight-

ens. I drink in the sight of him and relief courses through me, leaving me spent, exhausted,

and completely elated. Yet my tears don’t stop. Christian turns his attention back to his

mother.

“Mom, I’m good. What’s wrong?” Christian says reassuringly. She places her hands

on either side of his face.

“Christian, you’ve been missing. Your flight plan—you never made it to Seattle. Why

didn’t you contact us?”

Christian’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I didn’t think it would take this long.”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“No power in my cell.”

“You didn’t stop . . . call collect?”

“Mom—it’s a long story.”

“Oh, Christian! Don’t you ever do that to me again! Do you understand?” she half

shouts at him.

“Yes, Mom.” He wipes her tears away with his thumb and hugs her once more. When

she composes herself, he releases her to hug Mia, who slaps him hard on the chest.

“You had us so worried!” she blurts out, and she, too, is in tears.

“I’m here now, for heaven’s sake,” Christian mutters.

As Elliot comes forward, Christian relinquishes Mia to Carrick, who already has one

arm around his wife. He curls the other around his daughter. Elliot hugs Christian briefly,

much to Christian’s surprise, and slaps him hard on the back.

“Great to see you.” Elliot says loudly, if a little gruffly, trying to hide his emotion.

As the tears stream down my face, I can see it all. The great room is bathed in it—un-

conditional love. He has it in spades; he’s just never accepted it before, and even now he’s

at a total loss.

Look, Christian, all these people love you! Perhaps now you’ll start believing it.

Kate is standing behind me—she must have left the TV room—and she gently strokes

my hair.

“He’s really here, Ana,” she murmurs comfortingly.

“I’m going to say hi to my girl now,” Christian tells his parents. Both nod, smile, and

step aside.

He moves toward me, gray eyes bright though weary and still bemused. From some-

where deep inside, I find the strength to stagger to my feet and bolt into his open arms.

“Christian!” I sob.

“Hush,” he says and holds me, burying his face in my hair and inhaling deeply. I raise

my tear-stained face to his, and he kisses me far too briefly.

“Hi,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” I whisper back, the lump in the back of my throat burning.

“Miss me?”

“A bit.”

He grins. “I can tell.” And with a gentle touch of his hand, he wipes away the tears that

refuse to stop running down my cheeks.

“I thought . . . I thought—” I choke.

“I can see. Hush . . . I’m here. I’m sorry. Later,” he murmurs and kisses me chastely

again.

“Are you okay?” I ask, releasing him and touching his chest, his arms, his waist—oh,

the feel of this warm, vital, sensual man beneath my fingers—reassures me that he’s here,

standing in front of me. He’s back. He doesn’t so much as flinch. He just regards me in-

tently.

“I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh, thank God,” I clasp him round his waist again, and he hugs me once more. “Are

you hungry? Do you need something to drink?”

“Yes.”

I step back to fetch him something, but he doesn’t let me go. He tucks me under his

arm and extends a hand to José.

“Mr. Grey,” says José evenly.

Christian snorts. “Christian, please,” he says.

“Christian, welcome back. Glad you’re okay . . . and um—thanks for letting me stay.”

“No problem.” Christian narrows his eyes, but he’s distracted by Mrs. Jones, who is

suddenly at his side. It only occurs to me now that she’s not her usual smart self. I hadn’t

noticed it before. Her hair is loose, and she’s in soft gray leggings and a large gray sweat-

shirt that dwarfs her with WSU Cougars emblazoned on the front. She looks years younger.

“Can I get you something, Mr. Grey?” She wipes her eyes with a tissue.

Christian smiles fondly at her. “A beer, please, Gail—Budvar—and a bite to eat.”

“I’ll fetch it,” I murmur, wanting to do something for my man.

“No. Don’t go,” he says softly, tightening his arm around me.

The rest of his family close in, and Ethan and Kate join us. He shakes Ethan’s hand and

gives Kate a quick peck on the cheek. Mrs. Jones returns with a bottle of beer and a glass.

He takes the bottle but shakes his head at the glass. She smiles and returns to the kitchen.

“Surprised you don’t want something stronger,” mutters Elliot. “So what the fuck hap-

pened to you? First I knew was when Dad called me to say the chopper was missing.”

“Elliot!” Grace scolds.

“Helicopter,” Christian growls, correcting Elliot, who grins, and I suspect this is a fam-

ily joke.

“Let’s sit and I’ll tell you.” Christian pulls me over to the couch, and everyone sits

down, all eyes on Christian. He takes a long draft of his beer. He spies Taylor hovering at

the entrance and nods. Taylor nods back.

“Your daughter?”

“She’s fine now. False alarm, sir.”

“Good.” Christian smiles.

Daughter? What happened to Taylor’s daughter?

“Glad you’re back, sir. Will that be all?”