Scene One – "Do I love you?":
He kisses me sweet but passionately before leaving me sitting in the kitchen island, and I watch him as he enters his office. It's Saturday morning, we're alone, so he's going around with those jeans of his that hangs off his hips in that damned sexy way I love. Mmmm. Excuse me while I drool and sigh over this beautiful husband of mine… My inner goddess smiles while languidly swimming herself in a big, comfortable hammock, still remembering last night. My conscience shakes her head, not approving of our attitude, as she keeps reading some Shakespeare.
We're still at the Scala, but only for a couple of months more. Elliot and his team are really speeding up for our new home to be ready as soon as possible. We want to be installed there way before the baby is born, to have the room prepared and everything. Christian is about to burst because he can't stuff it already with the crib and all the things he wants to buy. We have actually bought some stuff, which is stored up here, in one of the spare rooms on the next floor. Grace is being quite impatient too. I'm afraid we will have to accommodate two rooms at least if I let them got their way and buy everything they want to!
I smile to myself and slide down the stool to take my empty glass of juice to the sink. Yes, for the first time, I realize what Christian feels about spending his money – or ours, as he would say - on me. As much as I still can't get used to those ridiculous high prices that he thinks normal to pay for everything, when it comes to my baby, I don't give a damn about it: I only want the best. So I guess that loving a baby is just the same as being in love. And we both are in love with Little Blip, there's no doubt about it. My Fifty has finally – or I think so, at least, haven't talked about it again since we did when we were back from the hospital - overcome his fear of being a father. As much as any newly father can do that, I mean. But the thing is, I don't see anxiety gripping him anymore when we talk about Junior.
Still, I'm assuming that up until the moment he holds our offspring in his arms and looks right into his (or her) eyes, my lost boy will still feel a little overcome with it all. Oh well. We still have time.
As all these thoughts cross my mind, I sit again, bite my lip and wait, impatiently. It's been only a month since the whole Hyde debacle, since I came back home, and since Christian finally realized that I will always be here. It finally went through that thick skull of his that what I feel for him, will never go away.
I enter my office with a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. It's Saturday, we're alone, and we still have all weekend only for us. Today I only feel like being home and making love to my wife for hours. Tomorrow though, I will probably take her somewhere. Still don't know where, I have to think about it. Maybe to the Space Needle, as I promised her while crossing Seattle in Charlie Tango. The day she agreed to come back with me. Seems like it was centuries ago, but is not. A few months have hardly passed, actually.
I'm still marvelled at the way everything has changed since then. Since the day she fell into my office. My sweet, exasperating, beautiful, witty, sexy, smart Anastasia. My wife. Mine and only mine. And Little Blip's of course. Although I think I don't mind to share. I guess. I'm actually looking forward to meet our baby, take care of him. Will he really love me unconditionally, as Ana says? I hope so, because I think I already do. It's an odd feeling, I'm still not familiar with it. Me. A father.
Shaking my head, I push those thoughts apart. I know that everything will be OK, It couldn't be any other way with my beloved wife by my side. I know I don't show her often, but I do trust her, and listen to her, to everything she has to say to me. Because I love her.
I smile openly now as I sit behind my desk. But before I open the laptop, I notice my iPad laying right by its side. Weird, I don't remember having put it in here. Frowning, I pick it up and press the slide to the side. The music player appears first thing in the screen, a song on pause in it, it seems. I press play and Ella Fitzgerald's voice fills quietly the room.
Do I love you do I?
Doesn't one and one make two?
Do I love you do I?
Does July need a sky of blue?
Would I miss you, would I, if you ever should go away?
If the sun should desert the day, what would life be?
I stand still, barely breathing, my forearms' hairs standing, a shiver down my spine, as the lyrics and music of a song I know well wash over me. Yes, I've heard it before, but rarely ever listened to it. And if I ever did, I never paid much attention, knowing that it spoke of feelings, of love. Of matters removed very far from me, that would never touch me.
Will I leave you, never?
Could the ocean leave the shore?
Will I worship you forever?
Isn't heaven forevermore?
Do I love you, do I?
Oh my dear it's so easy to see,
Don't you know I do, don't I show you I do,
Just as you love me.
Ah, but they do now. They do touch me. She does touch me. My wife. Caresses me, embraces me, kisses me. Loves me. Still don't know why but yes, I've already accepted that she does and I willingly take that love. Crave for it, beg for it, live for it.
The song ends leaving me with a sweet soft pain in my chest. I close my eyes, basking for a moment in the bittersweet feeling. Oh, the things she does to me.
"What am I gonna do with you, Anastasia?" I whisper.
Opening my eyes, I turn off the iPad and take a deep breath so I can regain some composure again. She's not even in the room and she has me already longing for her, aching for her. How does she do that? It's been only what? Five minutes since I last kissed her. A few hours since I last buried myself inside her.
She laughs at me – I smile at the thought. Yes, she does: she laughs at me, that errant wife of mine – because I like being in control of everything. But there is only one thing I can't control: this. Not now, not here, not today after this song, after these words she has dedicated to me.
I walk deliberately slowly towards the door, and open it, finding her exactly in the same spot where I left her, biting that full, delicious bottom lip of hers. Of mine. My wife looks at me with blue, wide, tinkling eyes, awaiting my reaction. I feel my body temperature rise, grow warmer, my lips part, my chest rise and fall. She knows, and she smiles, triumphant.
Finally arriving by her side, I delicately part her legs and stand in between them, cupping her face with my hands, my thumbs caressing her soft, pale skin.
"Well, Mrs Grey. Seems like I'm not gonna work a lot, if nothing at all, today"
As I'm leaning to kiss her, she giggles and I know I'm lost.