Chapter 116


    "Oh Ana, honey. You must be so tired." She nces anxiously at Bob.


    "No Mom, it''s just - I''m so pleased to see you." I hug her tightly.


    She feels so good and weing and home. Reluctantly, I relinquish her, and Bob gives me an


    awkward one-armed hug. He seems unsteady on his feet, and I remember that he''s hurt his leg.


    "Wee back, Ana. Why you cryin''?" he asks.


    "Aw, Bob, I''m just pleased to see you too." I stare up into his handsome square-jawed face, and his


    twinkling blue eyes that gaze at me fondly. I like this husband, Mom. You can keep him. He takes my


    backpack.


    "Jeez, Ana, what have you got in here?"


    That will be the Mac, and they both put their arms around me as we head for the parking lot.


    I always forget how unbearably hot it is in Savannah. Leaving the cool air-conditioned confines of the


    arrival terminal, we step into the Georgia heat like we''re wearing it. Whoa!


    It saps everything. I have to struggle out of Mom and Bob''s embrace so I can remove my hoodie. I am


    so d I packed shorts. I miss the dry heat of Vegas sometimes, where I lived with Mom and Bob when


    I was seventeen, but this wet heat, even at 8:30 in the morning, takes some getting used to. By the


    time I''m in the back of Bob''s wonderfully air-conditioned Tahoe SUV, I feel limp, and my hair has started


    a frizzy protest at the heat.


    In the back of the SUV I quickly text Ray, Kate, and Christian:


    Belongs to (N)?vel/Drama.Org.


    *Arrived Safely in Savannah. A :)*


    My thoughts stray briefly to Jose as I press send, and through the fog of my fatigue, I remember that


    it''s his show next week. Should I invite Christian knowing how he feels about JoseWill Christian still


    want to see me after that emailI shudder at the thought, and then put it out of my mind. I''ll deal with that


    "Honey, you must be tired. Would you like to sleep when we get home?"


    "No, Mom. I''d like to go to the beach."


    I am in my blue halter neck tankini, sipping a Diet Coke, on a sun bed facing the Antic Ocean, and to


    think that only yesterday I was staring out at the Sound toward the Pacific.


    My mother lounges beside me in a ridiculouslyrge floppy sun hat and Jackie O shades, sipping a


    Coke of her own. We are on Tybee Ind Beach, just three blocks from home.


    She holds my hand. My fatigue has waned, and as I soak up the sun, I feelfortable, safe, and


    warm. For the first time in forever, I start to rx.


    "So Ana... tell me about this man who has you in such a spin."


    Spin! How can she tellWhat to sayI can''t talk about Christian in any great detail because of the NDA,


    but even then, would I choose to talk to my mother about itI nch at the thought.


    "Well?" she prompts and squeezes my hand.


    "His name''s Christian. He''s beyond handsome. He''s wealthy... too wealthy. He''s veryplicated and


    mercurial."


    Yes - I feel inordinately pleased with my concise, urate summary. I turn on my side to face her, just


    as she makes the same move. She gazes at me with her crystal-clear blue eyes.


    "Complicated and mercurial are the two pieces of information I want to concentrate on, Ana."


    Oh no...


    "Oh, Mom, his mood-swings make me dizzy. He''s had a grim upbringing, so he''s very closed, difficult to


    gauge."


    "Do you like him?"


    "I more than like him."


    "Really?" She gapes at me.


    "Yes, Mom."


    "Men aren''t reallyplicated, Ana, honey. They are very simple, literal creatures.


    They usually mean what they say. And we spend hours trying to analyze what they''ve said


    - when really it''s obvious. If I were you, I''d take him literally. That might help."


    I gape at her. This sounds like good advice. Take Christian literally. Immediately some of the things he''s


    said spring into my mind.


    I don''t want to lose you...


    You''ve bewitched me...


    You''vepletely beguiled me...


    I''ll miss you too... more than you know...


    I gaze at my mom. She is on her fourth marriage. Maybe she does know something about men after all.


    "Most men are moody darling, some more than others. Take your father for instance...," Her eyes


    soften and sadden whenever she thinks of my dad. My real dad, this mythical man I never knew,


    snatched so cruelly from us in abat training ident when he was a marine. Part of me thinks my


    mom has been looking for someone like my dad all this time... maybe she''s finally found what she''s


    looking for in Bob. Pity she couldn''t find it with Ray.


    "I used to think your father was moody. But now when I look back, I just think he was too caught up in


    his job and trying to make a life for us." She sighs. "He was so young, we both were. Maybe that was


    the issue."


    Hmm... Christian is not exactly old. I smile fondly at her. She can be very soulful thinking about


    my father, but I''m sure he had nothing on Christian''s moods.


    "Bob wants to take us out tonight for dinner. To his golf club."


    "Oh no! Bob''s started ying golf?" I scoff in disbelief.


    "Tell me about it," groans my mother, rolling her eyes.


    After a light lunch back at the house, I start to unpack. I am going to treat myself to a si-esta. My


    mother has disappeared to mold some candles or whatever she does with them, and Bob is at work, so


    I have time to catch up on some sleep. I open the Mac and fire it up.


    It''s two in the afternoon in Georgia, eleven in the morning in Seattle. I wonder if I have a reply from


    Christian. Nervously, I log into the email program.


    From: Christian Grey


    Subject: Finally!


    Date: May 31 2011 07:30


    To: Anastasia Steele


    Anastasia


    I am annoyed that as soon as you put some distance between us, youmunicate openly and


    honestly with me. Why can''t you do that when we''re together?


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