The Actual Worst

ANNA

Kris wasn’t lying about the wine. She was holding what I could only describe as two goblets full to the brim when she opened the door.

“Oh my god,” she said in mock outrage. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

“Hey!” I frowned. “I’m in a crisis.”

“Fake it ’til you make it, baby girl.” She shrugged. “Come in, get changed, and let’s chat.”

She held out one of the wine glasses to me, and I took it with a giggle, despite the stress I was under. That was the reason Kris was the one person I’d told the whole truth about Gavin.

She had a way of unpacking problems with practical sense and a dash of sarcastic humor.

I changed into a silk camisole and shorts set with my favorite slippers before meeting my host back in the living room. She was also in her pajamas, with her dark hair stacked in a bun on top of her head.

“So.” She raised an eyebrow over her glass. “Trouble in paradise?”

I leaned back into her sofa cushions and stared at the ceiling.

“Apparently, Chelsea still has a key to his place,” I said quietly.

“As in runway model, ex-girlfriend Chelsea Marks?” She sounded genuinely surprised.

“That’s the one,” I sighed.

“Yikes.” She frowned. “How did you find that out?”

I groaned and took a large gulp of alcohol.

“Oh, you know, she came over to check on him, found me, and proceeded to basically admit she planned on getting back together with him.”

“And he told her to pound sand?” Kris intoned.

I groaned again as memories of the way Chelsea’s hands trailed over his body flashed through my mind. More than anything, the way he looked at her played on a loop.

“I thought he was about to,” I admitted. “But then he just… didn’t.”

“Why are men the actual worst?” Kris sighed, and I couldn’t help but bob my head. “So, what are you going to do?”

“Well, I can’t go back.” I sat up and looked at Kris, who shrugged.

“What?” I asked.

“I think you like him more than you’re willing to admit,” she said. “If you didn’t, this wouldn’t bother you so much.”

I wanted to argue, but I knew she was right. If I could take my stupid emotions out of it, it would probably be easier to look at the contract with Gavin as a transaction of sorts.

“He told me he wouldn’t cheat on me,” I said. “I asked him not to make his affairs public, and he said he would never cheat. Then, Chelsea was there in his kitchen like she fucking owns the place, and it all felt like some sort of stupid game.”

Kris crinkled her nose.

“I wish I could just…~care~ about him less,” I admitted. “He’s right. If I could be content with the money and the lifestyle without love in the equation, he’s offering me a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It’s a world without limitations.”

“But you want more,” she reasoned with a sad smile.

“What’s wrong with me?” I flopped back on her sofa.

“Babe, you’re young and beautiful. If this doesn’t feel right, you don’t have to force it.”

It dawned on me then that she might be incorrect. Gavin was my boss and my landlord.

If I walked away now, there was a good chance I might lose everything. I would be almost right back where I started when I moved to New York.

But that wasn’t really where my main problem lay.

“What if the reason I keep cycling through men is that none of them measure up to the one I spend every day with?” I asked, staring into the deep red of my wine to avoid having to look Kris in the eye. “What if he’s the one I’ve wanted all along, and I just couldn’t see it?”

Maybe I never realized my true feelings until he slid his proposal across the desk.

I ~needed~ my job. I only ~wanted~ Gavin.

Now that he wanted me back—it was hard to deny how much I cared for him.

Concern painted Kris’s expression. “Anna, I’m a firm believer that you can’t change people. He’s already told you he doesn’t believe in love. I’m afraid thinking things could be different will only end in heartbreak for you.”

“I don’t think I could make him love me.” I shrugged. “But I also don’t know that I can stop myself from loving him.”

Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. She opened her mouth to respond just as someone started pounding loudly on the door. Both of us jumped to our feet in surprise, spilling red wine on her rug in the process.

“Annalise Miller, open this fucking door right now!” Gavin’s voice bellowed from the hallway.

Surprise washed over me. I didn’t actually think he would come himself. I thought he would send Mark or another one of his lackeys.

“Guess you’ve been made,” Kris whispered from the corner of her mouth, and I couldn’t help but giggle.

The knocking started again, and I hurried to open the door before one of Kris’s neighbors called the cops. Gavin’s fist was midair when the hinge swung toward me. His eyes widened in relief before he schooled his expression into a mask of stone.

“Get your things,” he ordered.

“Why?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“You know why,” he growled. “I’m bringing you home.”

“If I wanted to be at my apartment, I would’ve stayed there,” I said flippantly, even though I knew he was referencing his place.

A muscle in his jaw ticked, and I could tell he was losing patience.

“I was talking about our penthouse,” he said through gritted teeth.

“There is no ‘our penthouse,’ Gavin.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. An inadvertent smile tugged at my lips when the vein in his forehead started pulsing.

“This isn’t a fucking game, Annalise,” he swore. “Get your shit and let’s go.”

“I’m staying here.”