Chapter 197


    Mission aplished, Grey.


    We’ll hang the other photographs in our new house, and maybe I’ll put one of them in the study at


    Esc.


    She looks up. “What?”


    I tap my index finger against my lips and shake my head. “Nothing. How’s the book?”


    “It’s a political thriller. Set in a dystopian surreal future.”


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    “Sounds riveting.”


    “It is. It’s a take on Dante’s Inferno by a new writer who’s based in Seattle. Boyce Fox.” Ana’s eyes


    shine, animated with the thrill of a good book.


    “I can’t wait to read it.”


    She smiles and returns to her manuscript.


    Smiling, I return to my coge.


    A littleter she gets up and wanders over to me, her expression hopeful. “Can we go back?”


    “Of course.” I close myptop, pleased with my photomontage of Mrs. Anastasia Grey.


    “Will you drive?” she asks.


    “Sure.” Taylor is visiting his daughter, and I’ve given Sawyer the day off.


    “I want to grab a copy of The Oregonian on the way, so I can read Dad the sports page.”


    “Good idea. I’m sure they’ll have one at reception. Let’s go.” I grab my jacket and myptop, and we


    head out.


    Ray lies peacefully asleep in his hospital bed, and it takes a few seconds for Ana and me to realize that


    he’s no longer on a venttor. The repetitive, measured st of air that had been his constant


    she strokes his stubbled chin and wipes his spittle with a tissue.


    I look away.


    I’m intruding. This wordless expression of love from a daughter to her father is too intimate for me to


    witness. I know Ray would be mortified if he knew I was standing here watching him at his most


    vulnerable. I stalk off to find one of his doctors for an update. Nurse Kellie and her colleague Liz are at


    the nurses’ station. “Dr. Sluder is in surgery.” Kellie picks up the phone. “She’s due out any minute. Do


    you want me to page her?”


    “No. That’s fine. Thanks.” I leave both nurses and head back to the all-too-familiar waiting room. Again,


    I’m here alone; slumping into one of the chairs I open myptop and pull up thetest iteration of my


    Ana coge. I’ve decided I want to add a few photographs from our wedding.


    I’mpletely absorbed in the task when Ana bursts into the room, dragging me from the screen. Her


    eyes are red-rimmed from fresh tears, but she’s brimming with tion. “He’s awake,” she exims.


    Thank God. Atst.


    Setting aside myptop, I stand up to embrace her. “How is he?”


    She snuggles against my chest, her eyes closed, as she wraps her arms around me. “Talking, thirsty,


    bewildered. He doesn’t remember the ident at all.”


    “That’s understandable. Now that he’s awake, I want to get him moved to Seattle. Then we can go


    home, and my mom can keep an eye on him.”


    “I’m not sure he’s well enough to be moved.”


    “I’ll talk to Dr. Sluder. Get her opinion.”


    “You miss home?” Ana looks up at me.


    “Yes.” Very much.


    “Okay.” She smiles, and together we return to the ward, where we find Ray is sitting up in bed. He


    looks a little shell-shocked, and frankly embarrassed that I’m there.


    “Ray. It’s good to see you back with us.”


    “Thanks, Christian,” he grumbles. “Awful lot of trouble for you kids to be here.”


    “Dad, it’s no trouble. We don’t want to be anywhere else.” Ana tries to reassure him.


    Dr. Sluder joins us, bristling with efficiency. “Mr. Steele. Wee back,” she says.


    “You haven’t stopped smiling.” I tuck a strand of Ana’s hair behind her ear as she pulls up outside The


    Heathman in the R8.


    “I’m very relieved. And happy.” She shes me a smile.


    “Good.” We climb out and Ana hands her keys to the valet. It’s getting darker and cooler and Ana


    shivers, so I drape my arm around her shoulders, and we wander into the hotel. From the foyer, I eye


    the Marble Bar. “Shall we celebrate?”


    “Celebrate?” Ana frowns.


    “Your dad.”


    She chuckles. “Oh, him.”


    “I’ve missed that sound.” I kiss her hair.


    “Can we just eat in our room? You know, have a quiet night in?”


    “Sure. Come.” Taking her hand, we walk to the elevators.


    Ana devours her dinner. “That was delicious.” She pushes her te away. “They sure know how to


    make a fine tarte tatin here.”


    That they do, Ana. “That’s the most I’ve seen you eat the entire time we’ve been here.”


    “I was hungry.” She sits back, replete, and it’s most gratifying to witness. She’s fresh and clean from


    our bath earlier and wearing nothing but my T-shirt and her panties. She’s all eyes and smiles and


    ponytail and legs…especially legs.


    Lifting my ss of wine, I take a sip. “What would you like to do now?” I keep my tone gentle, and


    hopefully a little seductive. My iPod is ying some serene tunes in the background. I know what I


    want to do, but she’s had an emotional day.


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