“I hate that you won’t let me touch you.”

“Ironic, huh?”

I gasp as her words slice through me. Who knew she could be such a…bitch? My sweet Ana, hurt and aching, unleashing her claws. Is this what I’ve driven her to?

This is getting us nowhere.

“We haven’t resolved much, have we?” My voice is bleak and flat. I don’t know what else to say; I have failed to turn her around.

“I’d say not. Except that I’m moving out of this bedroom.”

So…she’s not leaving me. I grasp on to this hope as I hang over the abyss.

One more pitch, Grey. This is your marriage.

“She doesn’t mean anything to me,” I whisper. Not like you do.

“Except when you need her.”

“I don’t need her. I need you.”

“You didn’t yesterday. That woman is a hard limit for me, Christian.”

“She’s out of my life.”

“I wish I could believe you.”

“For fuck’s sake, Ana.”

“Please let me get dressed.”

Sighing, I run my hand through my hair. What can I do? She won’t let me touch her. She’s too mad. I have to regroup and come up with a different strategy. And right now, I need to put some distance between us, before I do something I’ll regret. “I’ll see you this evening.” I storm out and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. Like her, I lock it, for the first time ever, protecting myself. Ana has the power to wound me like no other. Standing against the door, I tip my head back and close my eyes.

I have really fucked up. The last time I really fucked up she left me.

“You don’t want me?”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

I clutch on to that hope. Right now I need a shower to wash last night’s stink off me.

The water is blistering, the way I like it. I tilt my face into the stream, welcoming its stinging heat as it douses me.

Christ, I’m confused. Nothing is simple where Ana is concerned; I should know that by now. She’s mad because I shouted at her and left, and she’s mad because I saw Elena.

That woman is a hard limit for me, Christian.

Elena has been a thorn in Ana’s side from the beginning. And now, because of that careless fucking text, she’s a thorn in mine. Last night should have put an end to it. All of it. But she had to send that text.

Elena’s words haunt me. Maybe I could make you feel better? I’m sure you miss it.

I shudder at the memory.

Shit, what a mess.

When I emerge from the bathroom, Ana’s gone. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed.

Disappointed.

With a heavy heart, I dress, choosing my favorite tie as a talisman for the day. It’s brought me luck before.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Jones is still emitting glacial disapproval. It’s irritating and chastening at the same time. However, she’s prepared a substantial fried breakfast for me.

“Thank you,” I mutter. Her only reply is a tight smile. I suspect she heard Ana and me fighting last night.

Grey, you were shouting.

Everyone heard you.

Shit.

I stare out of the car window as Taylor drives through the morning rush-hour traffic. Ana didn’t even say good-bye; she just fucking left, with Sawyer. “Taylor, tell Sawyer I want him to stick to Mrs. Grey like glue. I need to know if she’s eating.”

“Yes, sir.” His words are clipped. Even Taylor is frosty this morning.

I wonder if Ana will follow through with her threat to move upstairs.

I hope not.

She fucks up her contraception, saddling us with a child before we’re ready, before we’ve done anything—and I’m in the fucking doghouse? I don’t even know how pregnant she is. I resolve to call Dr. Greene when I get to the office. Maybe she can shed some light on how my wife came to miss her shot.

My phone buzzes, and immediately my heart starts pounding. Ana? No, it’s Ros.

“Grey,” I snap.

“You’re bright and breezy this morning, Christian.”

“What is it, Ros?” I snap again.

She pauses for a nanosecond, then she’s all business. “Hansell from the shipyard wants a meeting. And Senator Blandino, too.”

Damn. The unions and the politicians. Could this day get any better?

“They have wind of the Taiwan deal already?”

“So it would seem, and they want to talk.”

“Okay, this afternoon. Set it up. I want you and Samir there, too.”

“Will do, Christian.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” I hang up.

What am I going to do about my wife? Truth is, I’m still smarting from angry Anastasia. Who knew she had such gumption? I don’t think anyone’s bawled me out like that since…forever. Apart from my mother and father—at my own birthday party, no less. And that was because of fucking Elena, as well. I snort at the irony. Yeah, fucking Elena.

I shake my head in disgust. Why did I seek her out? Why?

The Advil has kicked in, and Mrs. Jones’s fried breakfast has helped. I feel almost human, but miserable…utterly miserable.

What is Ana doing now? I picture her in her tiny office, wearing her purple dress. Perhaps she’s sent me an e-mail. I scramble for my phone, but there’s nothing.

Is she thinking about me like I’m thinking about her? I hope so. I want to be in her thoughts, always.