Oh, Ana.

I want to pick her up and carry her to my boyhood room and consummate our marriage. Now. But I’m sure I won’t get away with that.

Get a grip, Grey.

“Ready to party, Mrs. Grey?” I smile at my wife.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

I bask in the warmth of her smile. Taking her hand, I extend the other to Reverend Michael.

“Thank you, Reverend. That was a lovely ceremony. And it was brief.”

“I had my instructions,” he says, and shakes our hands in turn. “Congratulations, both of you.”

I have to release Ana as Kate drags her into a hug, and Elliot wraps his arms around me. “Man, you did it. Congratulations.”

“Christian!” Mia hollers, and barrels into my arms. “I love Ana! I love you!” she gushes, and crushes me.

“Mia. Steady. I need my ribs intact.”

So begins an endless round of congratulations, kisses, and hugs. I gird my loins to tolerate all the unnecessary touching I’m about to endure. It helps that I’m elated. When I turn to my mother, she’s sobbing. I give her a brief hug, mindful of her makeup, while Carrick slaps me on the back. Carla and Bob are next. Ray Steele shakes my hand, squeezing harder and harder.

“Congratulations, Christian. You should know, if you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

“I’d expect no less, Ray.”

“I’m glad we understand each other.” He grins and releases my now throbbing hand and claps me on the back. I flex my fingers and remind myself that Raymond Steele is ex-army.

Sipping a coupe of vintage Grande Année Rosé, I watch my beautiful wife as she makes her way toward me. We’ve just completed what feels like a major photoshoot with the wedding photographers, and now I’m standing near our table in the hope of having a bite to eat—getting married has given me an appetite. Ana stops every so often to talk to our guests, welcoming them and graciously receiving their good wishes. Her light shines so bright, her smile bringing everyone she greets to life.

She’s an extraordinary person. A stunning woman.

And she’s mine.

When she finally reaches me, I take her hand and pull it to my lips. “Hi,” I whisper. “I’ve missed you.”

“Hi. I’ve missed you, too.”

“You’ve dispensed with your veil. It was lovely.”

“It was. But people kept treading on it!”

I cringe. “That must have been annoying.”

“It was.”

My father takes the microphone. “Good afternoon, all,” he says. “Welcome to our home here in Bellevue, and to Christian and Ana’s wedding. If you don’t know me, I am very proud to say I am Christian’s dad, Carrick. I’m hoping to speak to all of you at some point during the afternoon or evening. In the meantime, you should all have a glass of the good stuff and I’d like us all to raise our glasses to Christian and his beautiful wife, Ana. Congratulations you two. Welcome to the family, Ana. And both of you, be kind to each other. To Christian and Ana!”

My father gives me a warm, tender smile, which I feel all the way to my toes. I raise my glass to him as everyone raises their glasses and the words “Christian and Ana” hover around us all.

“Please make your way to your table. We’ll be starting lunch shortly,” Dad continues.

I pull out Ana’s chair; she sits and I take the seat beside her. From here we have the best view of the entire pavilion. I’m thankful to be seated at last. I’m ravenous. The table looks lovely covered in white linen and floral arrangements with white and pink roses. Our parents join us, with Elliot and Kate and Mia and Bob.

Ana and my mom have opted for a buffet, but as the bridal party, we’re served our appetizers while our guests find their seats. There’s fresh sourdough, with some herby-looking butter, and a delicious cheese soufflé with a delicate garden salad. My wife and I tuck in.

Elliot is going to make a speech. He’s had several glasses of champagne, so this could go either way. We’ve finished our entrée of king salmon en croute and I take a gulp of Bollinger and brace myself.

Elliot winks at me and rises from the table. “Good afternoon, everyone. Welcome. I’ve drawn the short straw—I mean, I’m honored to be Christian’s best man, and his brother, and to be asked to make a speech. But forgive me—public speaking is not my thing. Growing up with Christian Grey was not my thing, either. He was a nightmare of a brother. Just ask my folks.”

Fuck! Elliot? But this gets a laugh. Ana squeezes my hand.

“This man can beat the shit out of me and did, frequently. And any of you who have ever kickboxed with him will know, don’t mess with him. He’s badass. He’s a solitary guy. When he was younger he’d rather have had his head stuck in a book than be out tearing up the town with the likes of me. You’ve all heard how he found school challenging, so I’ll gloss over that—but somehow, by some fluke, and not because he’s smart or anything, he managed to get some sort of education and even talked his way into Harvard.

“But it turned out Harvard wasn’t for him, either. He wanted to throw himself into the world of commerce and high finance. So, he did…he’s doing kinda okay with that.” Elliot shrugs, apparently unimpressed, and again the audience laughs.

“During this whole time, not once did he show any interest in the opposite sex. None. Well, I’ll leave you to deduce what we all thought.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. I roll my eyes, and Elliot grins. “So, imagine our collective surprise and delight when not too long ago he shows up with this beautiful young woman, Anastasia Steele. It was obvious from the beginning that she’d captured his heart. And for some strange reason, maybe she was dropped on her head as a child”—he shrugs once more—“she fell for him.”