Book 3 - Page 164 (1/2)

When I glance at Christian, he has tears in his eyes.

”Here's your son, Mrs. Grey,” he whispers, his voice strained and hoa.r.s.e.

”Our son,” I breathe. ”He's beautiful.”

”He is,” Christian says and plants a kiss on our beautiful boy's forehead beneath a shock of dark hair. Theodore Raymond Grey is oblivious. Eyes closed, his earlier crying forgotten, he's asleep. He is the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. So beautiful, I begin to weep.

”Thank you, Ana,” Christian whispers, and there are tears in his eyes too.

”What is it?” Christian tilts my chin back.

”I was just remembering Ted's birth.”

Christian blanches and cups my belly.

”I am not going through that again. Elective caesarian this time.”

”Christian, I - ”

”No, Ana. You nearly f**king died last time. No.”

”I did not nearly die.”

”No.” He's emphatic and not to be argued with, but as he gazes down at me, his eyes soften. ”I like the name Phoebe,” he whispers, and runs his nose down mine.