Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian

Chapter 15

“He said I might not be husband material.”

Flynn seems taken aback. “Oh. How did you feel about that?”

“Angry. Worried that he might be right.” Ashamed.

“In what context did he say it?”

I wave my hand dismissively. “He was lecturing me about the sanctity of marriage. He said if I had no respect for that, I had no business being married.”

John’s brows draw together.

“Since Elena was married.” I clarify for him.

“I see.” Flynn purses his lips. “Christian,” he says gently. “Your father may have a point.”

What?

“Either you were a willing participant in a relationship with a married woman, a relationship that cost her her marriage—and much more, considering what happened to her—or you were a vulnerable adolescent who was taken advantage of. Which is it? You cannot have it both ways.”

I glare at him. What. The. Hell?

“Marriage is a serious business,” he says.

“Fuck it, John, I know that. You sound just like him!”

“Do I? That’s not my intention. I’m just here to give you some perspective.”

Perspective? Fuck.

I glare at him, then down at my hands, as the silence grows between us.

Perspective, my ass. “I think Carrick’s wrong,” I mumble eventually, and I realize that I sound like the

“Of course he is. No matter what my views are on your relationship with Mrs. Lincoln, over the years you’ve demonstrated a constant

“There’s no regret!” I snap. “I’ve done this willingly.”

“Guilt, then?”

“Guilt? I don’t feel guilty.” Do

John remains impassive.

“Hence the nightmares?” I ask.

“Maybe.” He taps his lip with his index finger. “You’re giving

“It’s not for my parents. It’s for Ana.”

He nods. “You are rejecting everything you know for Anastasia, the woman you love. It’s a huge step.” He smiles once more. “In the right direction,

I gaze at him, not knowing what to say.

“Think about all I’ve said. Time’s up,” he says. “We can continue talking about this when I see you next.”

me a great deal to chew on. But until we speak again, I have one outstanding

“Making good progress.”

“It is. I’ll see you next week.”

Taylor is waiting outside in the Q7.

“I’m going to walk home,” I inform him. I need some time

He gives me a

“What?”

“Sir, I’d be much more comfortable if you rode in the car.”

Oh, yes. Someone’s trying to kill me.

I scowl as Taylor opens the rear

Am I no longer master of my own universe?

My

“Where’s Ana?” I ask Mrs. Jones when I enter the living room.

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