Chapter 23

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           Iglancenervouslyaroundthebarbutcannotseehim.

           “Ana,whatisit?Youlooklikeyou’veseenaghost.”

           “It’sChristian,he’shere.”

           “What?Really?”Sheglancesaroundthebar,too.

           IhaveneglectedtomentionChristian’sstalkertendenciestomymom.

           Iseehim.Myheartleaps,beginningajitterythumpingbeatashemakeshiswaytowardus.He’sreallyhere—forme.Myinnergoddessleapsupcheeringfromherchaiselongue.Movingsmoothlythroughthecrowd,hishairglintsburnishedcopperandredundertherecessedhalogens.Hisbrightgrayeyesareshiningwith—anger?Tension?Hismouthissetinagrimline,jawtense.Oh,holyshit…no.Iamsomadathimrightnow,andhereheis.HowcanIbeangrywithhiminfrontofmymother?

           Hearrivesatourtable,gazingatmewarily.He’sdressedinhiscustomarywhitelinenshirtandjeans.

           “Hi,”Isqueak,unabletohidemyshockandaweatseeinghimhereintheflesh.

           “Hi,”hereplies,andleaningdown,hekissesmycheek,takingmebysurprise.

           “Christian,thisismymother,Carla.”Myingrainedmannerstakeover.

           Heturnstogreetmymom.“Mrs.Adams,Iamdelightedtomeetyou.”

           Howdoesheknowhername?Hegiveshertheheart-stopping,ChristianGrey–patented,full-blown,no-prisonerssmile.Shedoesn’thaveahope.Mymother’slowerjawpracticallyhitsthetable.Jeez,getagrip,Mom.Shetakeshisprofferedhand,andtheyshake.Mymotherhasn’treplied.Oh,completedumbfoundedspeechlessnessisgenetic—Ihadnoidea.

           “Christian,”shemanagesfinally,breathlessly.