Fifty Shades Different

Chapter Eighteen

A/N: Okay let me know, in the comments, if there's anything you guys want to see okay? There wasn't really a Soundtrack for this one so I'm going to skip that part but, I hope you guys are enjoying the story! Let me know in the comments. Vote and Follow! :)

I stare at Grace, and she stares back at me wordlessly, I'm not getting out of this I know it. Grace, though she's more professional with most people now is same person she's always been. She's kindest person you'll ever meet, but one of the snarkiest at the same time, and she's also a closet drinker despite everything she says.

"I don't want to have this conversation, I didn't want to have it with Elena six months ago and I damn sure don't want to have it with you now." I spit out finally, "You know everything that I remember Grace, I mean you and Elena both should. Y'all were the ones mixing the drinks."

"Anastasia, I know you don't want to talk about this, just as much as I don't want to be the one to be having the conversation with you." She says, gently attempting to reason with my stubborn mind, I look down at the cup as the waiter sits it before me. Grace waits for him to walk away and then says, "But your Momma, and her situation with you, is something you need to be able to understand."

"I want to leave," I say simply, biting back the tears that are beginning to pool in my eyes. I'm beginning to wonder why I even wanted to come, why I thought I needed this time with Grace.

"Well there you go, Kiddo." She says, a bit of that snarky side I so keenly remember bearing its head, "This conversation, minus the chip on your shoulder, is your ticket back to Escala."

I put my face in my hands, I'm at a loss, I'm not going anywhere, even though we both know I could call a cab. I don't have any money she's my only way home, I'm not about to put Christian in the middle of this.

"Did Elena put you up to this?" I seethe, not knowing what else to say. Grace laughs, shaking her head, I look up at her confused.

"Elena doesn't know I'm with you, and she doesn't know that I have these," She says pulling a overstuffed Manella envelope out of her bag. "And I'm thinking that's probably the way it should stay."

I stare at the envelope that she lays on the table, I know very well what's in it, the three of them made this small storage box when they were little. And as they got older they added things in it here and there, pictures of their kids as they grew up, photos of their weddings, mostly important and sentimental events. With much ease, I open the envelope and let the pictures fall in the center of the table. The first picture I pick up is a picture of my mother, a cigarette in one hand and a cup of brandy in the other. She's much younger here, maybe nineteen, she's smiling which is something I rarely saw as a child.

"You want know what I remember?" I ask, my voice thick, I'm so much mad anymore, I'm just tired. I've hardly spoken of my mother since she died that faithful night that my Dad did, and I never would have had to had it not be Grace that I was with. "I remember Dad not being home, it was raining."

Dad was working, I was seven, it was long before the divorce. The storm outside was ridiculous, Grace lived across the street, back then Dad was making good enough money to live in the house we lived in. During the divorce, Mom took a lot of what Dad was making in alimony, that's why Dad moved to Virginia he left the military and took a job that would pay him enough to pay his alimony as well as leave enough for him to live. Mom had been trying to quit drinking, all I could get out of Dad was that she was trying to quit drinking so she could be a better mother to me. And a better wife to him, yeah like that was going to happen. The storm brewing outside was terrifying in my seven-year-old mind, it thundering quite often, and I could see the lightning flashing in the window every few seconds. She came downstairs, and just looked at me, in her eyes she seemed so far away.