Fifty Shades Freed (Fifty Shades #3)(58)
Author: E.L. James

"Oh no!" Kate says suddenly.

All eyes turn to her.

"Look," she says, pointing to the picture window. Outside, rain has started pouring down. We are sitting around the dark wood table in the kitchen having consumed an Italian feast of a mixed antipasto, prepared by Mrs. Bentley, and a bottle or two of Frascati. I’m replete and a little buzzy from the alcohol.

"There goes our hike," Elliot mutters, sounding vaguely relieved. Kate scowls at him. Something is definitely up with them . . . They have been relaxed with all of us but not with each other.

"We could go into town," Mia pipes up. Ethan smirks at her.

"Perfect weather for fishing," Christian suggests.

"I’ll go fish," Ethan says.

"Let’s split up." Mia claps her hands. "Girls, shopping – boys, outdoor boring stuff."

I glance at Kate, who regards Mia indulgently. Fishing or shopping?

Jeez, what a choice.

"Ana, what do you want to do?" Christian asks.

"I don’t mind," I lie.

Kate catches my eye and mouths "shopping" at me, perhaps she wants to talk.

"But I’m more than happy to go shopping." I add, smiling wryly at Kate and Mia. Christian smirks. He knows I hate shopping.

"I can stay here with you, if you’d like," he murmurs, and something dark unfurls in my belly at his tone.

"No, you go fish," I answer. Christian needs boy time.

"Sounds like a plan," Kate says, rising from the table.

"Taylor will accompany you," Christian says, and it’s a given – not up for discussion.

"We don’t need babysitting," Kate retorts bluntly, direct as ever. I put my hand on Kate’s arm. "Kate, Taylor should come."

She frowns, then shrugs, and for once in her life holds her tongue. I smile timidly at Christian . His expression remains impassive. Oh, I hope he’s not mad at Kate.

Elliot frowns. "I need to pick up a battery for my watch in town."

He glances quickly at Kate, and I spot his slight blush. She doesn’t notice because she is pointedly ignoring him.

"Take the Audi, Elliot. When you come back we can go fishing,"

Christian says.

"Yeah!" Elliot mutters, but he seems distracted. "Good plan."

"In here." Grabbing my hand, Mia hauls me into a designer boutique that’s all pink silk and faux-French distressed rustic furniture. Kate follows us while Taylor waits outside, sheltering under the awning from the rain. Aretha is belting out "Say A Little Prayer" over the store’s hi-fi system. I love this song. I should put it on Christian’s iPod.

"This will look wonderful on you, Ana." Mia holds up a scrap of silver material. "Here, try it on."

"Um . . . it’s a bit short."

"You’ll look fantastic in it. Christian will love it."

"You think?"

Mia beams at me. "Ana, you have legs to die for, and if we go clubbing tonight" – she smiles, sensing an easy kill – "you’ll look hot for your husband."

I blink at her, slightly shocked. We’re going clubbing? I don’t do clubbing.

Kate laughs at my expression. She seems more relaxed now that she’s away from Elliot. "We should throw some shapes this evening,"

she says.

"Go try it on," Mia orders, and reluctantly I head for the changing room.

While I wait for Kate and Mia to emerge from the dressing room, I stroll to the shop window and look out, unseeing, across the main street. The soul compilation continues: Dionne Warwick is singing

"Walk On By." Another great song – one of my mother’s favorites. I glance down at The Dress in my hand. Dress is perhaps an overstatement. It’s backless and very short, but Mia has declared it a winner, perfect for dancing the night away. Apparently, I need shoes, too, and a large chunky necklace, which we’ll source next. Rolling my eyes, I reflect once more on how lucky I am to have Caroline Acton, my own personal shopper.

Through the boutique window I’m distracted by the sight of Elliot. He has appeared on the other side of the leafy main street, climbing out of a large Audi. Elliot dives into a store as if to duck out of the rain. Looks like a jewelry store . . . maybe he’s looking for that watch battery. He emerges a few minutes later, and not alone – with a woman.

Fuck! He’s talking to Gia! What the hell is she doing here?

As I watch, they hug briefly and she holds her head back, laughing animatedly at something he says. He kisses her cheek then runs to the waiting car. She turns and heads down the street, and I gape after her. What was that about? I turn anxiously toward the dressing rooms, but there’s still no sign of Kate or Mia.

I glance at Taylor, where he’s waiting outside the store. He catches my eye then shrugs. He’s witnessed Elliot’s little encounter, too. I blush, embarrassed to have been caught snooping. Turning back, Mia and Kate emerge, both of them laughing. Kate looks at me quizzically.

"What’s wrong, Ana?" she asks. "You gone cold on the dress? You look sensational in it."

"Um, no."

"Are you okay?" Kate’s eyes widen.

"I’m fine. Shall we pay?" I head to the cashier joining Mia who has chosen two skirts.

"Good afternoon, ma’am." The young sales assistant – who has more gloss coating her lips than I have ever seen in one place – smiles at me. "That’ll be eight hundred and fifty dollars."

What? For this scrap of material! I blink at her and meekly hand over my black Amex.

"Mrs. Grey," Ms. Lip Gloss purrs.

I follow Kate and Mia in a daze for the next two hours, warring with myself. Should I tell Kate? My subconscious firmly shakes her head. Yes, I should tell her. No, I shouldn’t. It could just have been an innocent meeting. Shit. What should I do?

"Well, do you like the shoes, Ana?" Mia has her fists on her hips.

"Um . . . yeah, sure."

I end up with a pair of unfeasibly high Manolo Blahniks with straps that look like they are made from mirrors. They match the dress perfectly and set Christian back just over a thousand dollars. I’m luckier with the long silver chain that Kate insists I buy; it’s a bargain at eighty-four dollars.

"Getting used to having money?" Kate asks, not unkindly, as we walk back to the car. Mia has skipped ahead.

"You know this isn’t me, Kate. I’m kind of uncomfortable about all this. But I’m reliably informed it’s part of the package." I purse my lips at her, and she puts her arm around me.

"You’ll get used to it, Ana," she says sympathetically. "You’ll look great."

"Kate, how are you and Elliot getting along?" I ask. Her wide blue eyes dart to mine.

Oh no.

She shakes her head. "I don’t want to talk about it now." She nods toward Mia. "But things are – " She doesn’t finish her sentence. This is unlike my tenacious Kate. Shit. I knew something was up. Do I tell her? Tell her what I saw? What did I see? Elliot and Miss Well-Groomed-Sexual-Predator talking, hugging, and that kiss on the cheek. Surely they are just old friends? No, I won’t tell her. Not right now. I give her my I-completely-understand-and-will-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 f**k is Elliot Manwhore Grey playing at?

Once back at the house, Kate decides we deserve cocktails after our shopping extravaganza 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 have 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 haven’t seen Elliot since cocktailgate?"

"No."

"Oh."

"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."