Ask any man who is the one person in the world he would drop everything for, who he would give his life for and I guarantee that more often than not, the answer will be his mother. In most cases, men don't want to be seen as a mama's boy so they wouldn't volunteer that information, but the moment he learned his mother needed him, he'd be right at her side.

I'm no different. Even at twenty-seven years old, the owner of one of the most successful companies in America, and a bank account people would kill for, I'd give it all up if my mother needed it. I've always been grateful to Grace Trevelyan-Grey for adopting me and saving me from what I know would have been a horrible fate, and I've spent my life trying to find ways to show her my thanks. That's why I'm in a Seattle park on a sunny summer afternoon surrounded by dozens of children, their parents, and an array of carnival games. A few years back, Grace setup an annual event for children she works with at the hospital. A lot of them were born premature and addicted to drugs thanks to their parents, some were orphaned, some were just sick. This is her way of giving those children something to look forward to when their parents or foster parents can't afford to give them anything more than the occasional Happy Meal from McDonald's. And it's a chance for the parents to relax and for once pretend whatever problems their children have don't exist, even if only for a few hours.

Naturally, all of Dr. Grace's children are volunteered to help out with the events, even when we'd rather be doing anything else. I can think of a dozen projects I should be working on right now, but instead, I'm helping my father man the grill. Around me, children of all ages are squealing and running around and laughing, and I'm already wondering how quickly I can make my escape.

"Hotdogs are here," Dad announces triumphantly, placing the food beside me on the picnic table. "How come the burgers?"

I flip another round of the hamburgers, cooking them to perfection. "Well, unlike Elliot, I think I can manage to cook a simple burger without burning the place down." I refer to an incident a while back when my family and I were camping and Elliot volunteered to cook us lunch. The next thing we knew, the forest ranger and fire department were trying to control the fire he managed to cause that took out our whole campsite. I may suck at cooking, but I've never fucked up that much.

"Which is why Elliot is running the dunk tank," Dad says flatly, shuddering at the memory. "Mia seems to be having fun with the face painting booth."

We both turn and look across the park to where my little sister is, of course, going overboard on her task. A kid walked past me about fifteen minutes ago and it looked like Mia had tried her hand at recreating a Van Gogh painting. The kid's cheek looked like she fell into a puddle of paint, though she seemed to have enjoyed it nonetheless.

"Careful," I warn. "Next thing you know, she's going to want to move out to Paris to work at the Louvre."

Dad snorts a laugh and we turn back to the grill. The spread of food provided isn't exactly five-star dining, but these people seem to enjoy it. We've got every backyard barbecue food anyone could want and then some. While the kids play and eat, there are a couple of dozen game booths as well as a cotton candy and popcorn booth. Near the end of the day, a local ice cream place arrives and sets up an ice cream sundae bar that even I enjoy. The kids leave here with toys and prizes, a sugar high, and huge smiles on their tired faces, which puts a huge smile on Grace's face.

"Don't tell Elliot, but we rehired that clown from last year," my dad says to me conspiratorially.

I laugh out loud. Though you wouldn't know it looking at him, my big, tough, older brother has a clown phobia worse than any of us has ever seen. We didn't know anything about it until last year when a clown my parents hired to entertain the kids arrived and Elliot sprinted out of the park in record time. By the time we found him, he was hiding up a tree and refused to come down until we promised to keep the clown on the opposite end of whatever side of the park he happened to be on. It was a priceless family moment that he will never live down for as long as he lives.

"Here, take him a burger," Carrick requests, making a plate of food. "Make sure he's actually doing what he's supposed to be doing."

Obediently, I take the plate and grab a couple cans of soda from a cooler beside the grill, and set off towards the dunk tank. Elliot is in his element right now, on his perch baiting the kids who step up in an attempt to hit the target with a softball. To my annoyance, he's still completely dry and feeling smug. His latest girlfriend Shannon is handing kids the balls, letting the smaller kids a little closer to the target to better their chances.

"You'd think there would be at least one kid around with decent aim," she says when I place Elliot's lunch on a table behind her.

I smirk, watching a little blond boy with glasses take his place with a softball. Elliot is teasing him, making faces at him, and the kid seems a little intimidated with all the attention. A woman, who I assume to be his mother, jogs up to him, kneeling beside him to give him some advice. He grins and nods at whatever she tells him and turns back to the target. Shannon and I laugh at the startled look on Elliot's face when the ball skims the edge of the target. On his second attempt, the kid's aim is dead-on, but the throw isn't hard enough to drop Elliot into what I assume will be very cold water. The third attempt misses completely, eliciting disappointed groans from the kids behind him. He looks so upset that he couldn't hit the target that I decide a bonus throw is in order. Grabbing a ball from the basket at Shannon's feet, I approach the kid before I realize what I'm doing.

"Hey, why don't you try again," I suggest, kneeling down beside him. "Fourth time's a charm."

The boy's mother is staring at me, something I'm accustomed to, but it's not until I actually look at her that I figure out why she can't seem to tear her eyes away from me as I'm having the same trouble. She can't be any older than twenty-two and her kid looks about three, and she's beautiful with her long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and her big blue eyes trained on me. Shaking myself when I hear Elliot telling me to hurry it up already, I turn my attention back to the boy, shooting my brother a glare. Rather than risk this kid missing the target again, I whisper a few words to him, making him grin hugely and nod eagerly. Next second, he runs forward and hits the target with his hand. Elliot squeals like a little girl as he hits the water and all the kids and parents in line laugh. The little boy looks thrilled at what he did and runs back to his mom, talking a mile a minute.

"Did you see, Mommy?" he asks excitedly. "I made him fall in the water."

The woman chuckles and nods, picking up the little boy and settling him on her hip. "Yes, baby, I saw," she says indulgently. "Good job." She turns to look at me, mouthing thank you before taking her son to the next game booth.

"My pleasure," I murmur bemusedly as I watch them leave, completely ignoring Elliot's bitching about how I cheated. Shannon tosses him a towel while he resets the board to its locked position. As I begin to return to the grill, I hear Elliot say something about a fifteen minute break so he can eat, causing the kids to groan again and disperse elsewhere. I look around for the woman and little boy, but I don't see them, and when my phone rings with a call from Ros, I put them out of my mind.

After lunch, I find my mother and a friend of hers at the cotton candy booth, happily wrapping pure sugar around little paper cones bigger than most of these kids' heads.

My mother spots me approaching and she frowns briefly. "Let me guess," she starts. "There is some work emergency and you absolutely have to take care of it yourself."

I flinch at the disapproval in her tone. Normally work is my excuse to get out of things like this, particularly on weekends when I have a submissive contracted. As it is, I don't currently have a submissive, which is probably why I'm feeling so uptight today. "Actually, I was just coming to see how things were going," I reply.

Grace looks surprised but pleased. "Oh, well it's all going very well as you can see, though your brother is trying to convince us to make the clown take his place at the dunk tank."

I grin, shaking my head as I look around. Not far from where we are I see the little boy from the dunk tank and his mother throwing beanbags at cardboard yellow ducks to win prizes. My stomach jumps a little when I hear her laughing even over all the noise surrounding us. I've never heard such a beautiful laugh in my life and I suddenly have the desire to hear it again. Rationale returns suddenly and I shake myself, inwardly chiding myself for the direction my mind is taking all on its own. I must be overtired if I'm coming up with flowery shit like that...

Nevertheless, I'm curious. "Hey, Mom," I begin, quietly, "what's their story?"

"Whose?" she asks glancing up and following my gaze. "Oh, that is Ana and Cody. Cute little guy, isn't he?"

I nod in agreement, though I'm more focused on his mother. "Was he one of the preemies?"

Grace nods with a sad smile. "He certainly was," she confirms.

"Drugs?" I ask coolly, dreading the possibility of an affirmative answer.

"No, nothing like that," Grace answers, stepping away from the booth so we're not overheard. "His mother was in a car accident when she was just under seven months pregnant. Her injuries were so severe that they had to take her into immediate surgery and take the baby early in the hopes of saving her. Nobody really expected Cody to survive, but he's a strong one. It was touch and go the entire time he was in the NICU, and it was such a relief when Ana recovered enough and she could take him home. They haven't had an easy time of things and this was the first year I extended Ana an invitation that she was actually able to accept and get the time off work."

"They're both okay now, right?" I have no idea why I'm so concerned with people I don't even know.

"Mostly," Grace says. "Cody has some minor health issues and vision problems, and he's on the small side for a three-year-old, but Ana is mostly recovered and they're coping. It's just nice to see them having a good time. I don't think I've ever seen them smile and laugh so much."

I watch as Cody chooses the biggest stuffed animal of the bunch—a giant giraffe that's nearly twice his size. Grabbing one of the cotton candies from my mother's booth, I excuse myself and walk towards the two of them as the woman named Ana convinces her son to let her take the giraffe so he doesn't hurt himself. He grudgingly allows it.

"Nice giraffe," I say, smiling as I approach them.

Ana's smile slips away and she pulls her son closer. "Yes, it is," she says quietly.

"I think we forgot to give him his prize for the dunk tank," I say, holding out the cotton candy for Cody to take. He looks questioningly at his mom who nods that it's okay.

"Thanks," he says shyly, taking the sweet from me.

I watch in amusement as he buries his face in it in an attempt to eat it, chuckling when he resurfaces and the pink stuff covers his face.

Ana shakes her head but smiles, rolling her eyes at me. "We're still working on that whole table manners thing," she says apologetically.

"Well, we're not at a table, so I see no problem with his manners," I reply, giving her one of my most winning smiles. "I'm Christian, by the way."

"Ana," she says, placing a hand on her son's head. "And this is Cody."

"It's nice to meet you both," I say quietly. "Having fun?"

She nods. "We are, yes. And thanks again for that dunk tank thing; it made his week."

"Don't mention it; I'll take any opportunity to see my brother fall into cold water."

Her eyes widen. "You're Elliot's brother?" she asks, surprised. I'm a little surprised that she knows Elliot. "So Dr. Grace is your mom?"

"That she is," I confirm.

She shakes her head in wonder, looking all around us, perhaps wondering how I could possibly fit in with the rest of my normal, well-adjusted family. For some reason I'm hoping she doesn't analyze us too deeply.

"It's really amazing what she's doing for all these kids," she says. "I can't even begin to tell you how many doctors we see that can barely remember our names, much less invite us to a private carnival."

"She cares about her patients," I say. "I'm pretty sure she could recite the name of everyone she's ever treated given the time. She would do just about anything for her kids." I'm referring not only to me, my brother, and my sister, but all the children she treats as well. One of the running jokes between my parents is that Grace has close to a hundred kids, though she only shares three with Carrick. I've seen what happens when she loses a patient; for her, it is like losing one of her own children.

"Well, it was good meeting you, Christian, but we've got more games to play," Ana says as Cody finishes his cotton candy in record time. I can't shake the thought that she's trying to get away from me.

"And you, Ana," I respond, unable to think of anything to say that would keep her here talking to me. "Have fun."

She throws me a brief smile and goes on her way, leaving me to stare after her until I can't see her anymore.

"Holy shit, you're still here?"

Rolling my eyes, I turn towards my brother to find him rubbing a towel over his wet hair. I smirk when I see how much water is dripping from his swim shorts. "I was waiting around to see if you'd drown," I say dully.

He snorts. "Well, thanks to you, I had a dozen more kids run up and hit the target instead of throwing the damn balls. I'm pretty sure my brain is waterlogged."

"How could you tell?" I shoot back at him. He snaps his towel in my direction, missing me completely. "Your aim is worse than those kids'."

"You two behave," Grace says tiredly. The carnival ended an hour ago; now we're supervising the clean up. "And thank you both for all your help today. It means a lot to have all my kids in one place."

I smile. "Anytime, Mom," I say quietly.

She turns her attention to me with interest. "So I saw you talking to Ana earlier," Grace says leadingly, her tiredness suddenly gone. Elliot perks up immediately, looking between us expectantly. "She's a sweet girl, isn't she?"

I shrug. "I'm sure she is," I mutter dismissively. "I just thought her son deserved something for being forced to endure Elliot's pathetic heckling at the dunk tank earlier."

Grace smiles knowingly. "Well, that's very sweet of you," she says simply. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go make sure your father doesn't try to smuggle all the left over candy back home."

The moment our mother's back is turned, I sense the grin on Elliot's face and I know what's coming. "A girl caught the eye of Christian Grey?" he asks delightedly. "I never thought I'd see the day."

I'm sure you didn't, since you all think I'm gay, I think to myself. "I was just being nice," I inform my brother, exasperated. "That's it."

"Right," he says, drawling out the world until it's several syllables long. "Mom's right, you know. Ana's a really sweet girl. And her kid is adorable."

"How do you know her?" I ask, hoping I don't seem too overly eager for the answer or irritated that he knows her and I don't.

Elliot's smirk tells me I failed. "She works with Shannon at the bakery. The girl works so much she practically lives there. Shannon says whenever she can't get a babysitter she just brings the kid with her. She doesn't get out a lot either; I suppose paying the bills is more important than being social with her friends."

"That's how it should be," I say. "You hear too many stories of people ditching their kids to go party and something bad happens while they're gone because they didn't even have the decency to get a babysitter."

Elliot nods his agreement. "Still, if anyone deserves a night out, it's Ana. I know Shannon has offered a few times, but..."

We don't get the opportunity to finish our conversation as Shannon and Mia join us, both of them talking so fast we can hardly discern what they're saying as being part of the English language. It's another hour before my parents dismiss us and as I return to my penthouse apartment, I register that while it's normally a relief to arrive home after one of these events, suddenly the place seems too big, too quiet, and too empty. I have no idea why that hits me so suddenly, but as I ready myself for bed, I can't shake the feeling that something is missing in my life, though I couldn't even imagine what that something might be.