Chapter 137 (1/2)

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Over-Reaction

Date: June 3 2011 13:06 EST

To: Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grumpy

The aircraft doors are still open. We are delayed but only by ten minutes. My welfare and that of the passengers around me is vouchsafed. You may stow your twitchy palm

for now.

Miss Steele

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Apologies - Twitchy Palm Stowed

Date: June 3 2011 10:08

To: Anastasia Steele

I miss you and your smart mouth Miss Steele.

I want you safely home.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Apology Accepted

Date: June 3 2011 13:10 EST

To: Christian Grey

They are shutting the doors. You won't hear another peep from me, especially given your deafness.

Laters.

Ana x

I switch off the BlackBerry, unable to shake my anxiety. Something is up with Christian.

Perhaps 'the situation' is out of hand. I sit back, glancing up at the locker where my bags are stowed. I managed this morning, with my mother's help, to buy Christian a small gift to say thank you for first class and for the gliding. I smile at the memory of the soaring -

that was something else. I don't know yet if I'll give my silly gift to him. He might think it's childish - and if he's in a strange mood, maybe not. I am both eager to return and apprehensive of what awaits me at my journey's end. As I mentally flick through all the scenarios that could be 'the situation', I become aware that once again the only empty seat is beside me. I shake my head as the thought crosses my mind that Christian might have purchased the adjacent seat so that I couldn't talk to anyone. I dismiss the idea as ridiculous - no one could be that controlling, that jealous, surely. I close my eyes as the plane taxis towards the runway.

I emerge into the Sea-Tac arrivals terminal eight hours later to find Taylor waiting and holding up a board that reads Miss A Steele. Honestly! But it's good to see him.

”Hello, Taylor.”

”Miss Steele,” he greets me formally, but I see a hint of smile in his sharp brown eyes.

He looks his usual immaculate self - smart charcoal suit, white shirt, and charcoal tie.

”I do know what you look like Taylor, you don't need a board, and I do wish you'd call me, Ana.”

”Ana. Can I take your bags, please?”

”No, I can manage. Thank you.”

His lips tighten perceptibly.