Hello, all! Time for the last few chapters of the last book in the Fifty Shades trilogy! We’re done with the Epilogue, and there is some bonus material to follow, so we’ll be having lots of fun as we wrap this up!
Reaching across, he spreads his hand over my bump. “Let’s have lots of children,” he says.
“One more at least.” I grin, and he caresses my belly.
“How is my daughter?”
“She’s good. Asleep, I think.”
Did you notice the verbiage here? He’s referring to the baby as my daughter, not our daughter. Can we say narcissist?
“Pop!” Ted holds out his hands and Sophie passes one to him. It’s dripping already.
“Here—let Mommy see.” I sit up, take the popsicle from Ted, and quickly slip it into my mouth, licking off the excess juice. Hmm . . . cranberry, cool and delicious.
“Mine!” Ted protests, his voice ringing with indignation.
“Here you go.” I hand him back a slightly less runny popsicle, and it goes straight into his mouth. He grins.
Okay, this has been a total character inconsistency throughout the books, and this has been bothering me. Ana always seems to forget to eat, but she does seem to enjoy food. Also, would you think that she’d be able to use more words than just delicious to describe the foods she enjoys eating?
“Don’t go too far.”
“No, Mr. Grey.” Sophie’s hazel eyes are wide and serious. I think she’s a little frightened of Christian. She holds her hand out, and Teddy takes it willingly. They trudge away together through the long grass.
Christian stills and places his hands on my belly. “Girls, eh?” There’s a hint of trepidation in his voice. I curl my hand behind his head.
“You don’t have to worry about your daughter for at least another three months. I have her covered here. Okay?”
Someone please explain to me how expecting a daughter is scary. Is this part of the whole men not understanding women thing, because Christian can’t see women as people?
“And you’re making money in these difficult times,” Christian adds, his voice reflecting his pride. “But . . . I like you barefoot and pregnant and in my kitchen.”
I lean back so I can see his face. He gazes down at me, eyes bright.
“I like that, too,” I murmur, and he kisses me, his hands still spread across my bump.
Seeing he’s in a good mood, I decide to broach a delicate subject. “Have you thought any more about my suggestion?”
He stills. “Ana, the answer is no.”
“But Ella is such a lovely name.”
“I am not naming my daughter after my mother. No. End of discussion.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Grasping my chin, he gazes earnestly down at me, radiating exasperation. “Ana, give it up. I don’t want my daughter tainted by my past.”
“Okay. I’m sorry.” Shit . . . I don’t want to anger him.
“That’s better. Stop trying to fix it,” he mutters. “You got me to admit I loved her, you dragged me to her grave. Enough.”
Oh no. I twist in his lap to straddle him and grasp his head in my hands.
“I’m sorry. Really. Don’t be angry with me, please.” I kiss him, then kiss the corner of his mouth. After a beat, he points to the other corner, and I smile and kiss it. He points to his nose. I kiss that. He grins and places his hands on my backside.
Yeah, and here’s some textual proof that the book series glorifies abusive relationships and makes them seem romantic. Ana is making a suggestion about what to name the baby, and Christian shuts her down, no discussion involved. He seems angry, and Ana placates him and apologizes. Why not discuss it calmly, explain the reason, and move on?
Mrs. Grey, you’ve been in labor for fifteen hours now. Your contractions have slowed in spite of the Pitocin. We need to do a C-section—the baby is in distress.” Dr. Greene is adamant.
“About fucking time!” Christian growls at her. Dr. Greene ignores him.
“Christian, quiet.” I squeeze his hand. My voice is low and weak and everything is fuzzy—the walls, the machines, the green-gowned people . . . I just want to go to sleep. But I have something important to do first . . . Oh yes. “I wanted to push him out myself.”
“Mrs. Grey, please. C-section.”
Emergency C-sections happen all the time. Yes, they are major surgery, but they aren’t anything to swear about, Christian.
“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.”
“No, Ana. You nearly fucking 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.
Okay, first, Christian has no final say in Ana’s decision on how to give birth. That’s between her and her doctor. Secondly, in the United States at least, if an expectant mother already had a C-section, it’s recommended that she has any other babies via C-section. She doesn’t need a permission slip from her husband or the baby’s dad to do anything.
I gaze up at the view as the sun sinks behind the Olympic Peninsula. It’s everything Christian promised it would be, and I get the same joyful thrill seeing it now as I did the first time. It’s simply stunning: twilight over the Sound. Christian pulls me into his arms.
And here’s our Twilight reference right here! And that’s the end of the book, kids! And now wee see why it’s called Fifty Shades of Bullshit.
And that’s it for today!