Chapter 144 (1/2)
”Oh, Ana,” Christian whispers, his voice anguished and pained. ”I thought I'd lost you. Then I thought I'd lost you again. Seeing you lying on the ground, pale and cold and unconscious - it was all my worst fears realized. And now here you are - brave and strong . . . giving me hope. Loving me after all that I've done.”
”Yes, I do love you, Christian, desperately. I always will.”
Gently taking my head between his hands, he wipes my tears away with his thumbs. He gazes into my eyes, gray to blue, and all I see is his fear and wonder and love.
”I love you, too,” he breathes. And he bends and kisses me sweetly, tenderly like a man who adores his wife.
”I'll try to be a good father,” he whispers against my lips.
”You'll try, and you'll succeed. And let's face it; you don't have much choice in the matter, because Blip and I are not going anywhere.”
”Blip?”
”Blip.”
He raises his eyebrows. ”I had the name Junior in my head.”
”Junior it is, then.”
”But I like Blip.” He smiles his shy smile and kisses me once more.
Chapter Twenty-four
”Much as I'd like to kiss you all day, your breakfast is getting cold,”
Christian murmurs against my lips. He gazes down at me, now amused, except his eyes are darker, sensual. Holy cow, he's switched again. My Mr. Mercurial.
”Eat,” he orders, his voice soft. I swallow, a reaction to his smoldering look, and crawl back into bed, avoiding snagging my IV
line. He pushes the tray in front of me. The oatmeal is cold, but the pancakes under the cover are fine - in fact, they're mouthwatering.
”You know,” I mutter between mouthfuls, ”Blip might be a girl.”
Christian runs his hand through his hair. ”Two women, eh?” Alarm flashes across his face, and his dark look vanishes. Oh crap.
”Do you have a preference?”
”Preference?”
”Boy or girl.”
He frowns. ”Healthy will do,” he says quietly clearly disconcerted by the question. ”Eat,” he snaps, and I know he's trying to avoid the subject.
”I'm eating, I'm eating . . . Jeez, keep your hair on, Grey.” I watch him carefully. The corners of his eyes are crinkled with worry. He's said he'll try, but I know he's still freaked out by the baby. Oh, Christian, so am I. He sits down in the armchair beside me, picking up the Seattle Times.
”You made the papers again, Mrs. Grey.” His is tone bitter.
”Again?”