The Jealousy

ANNA

The master bedroom was just as impressive as the rest of the mansion.

A four-poster bed stood in the center, with a sitting room off to one side.

The large picture windows had an uninterrupted view of the property’s lake, as well as the trees and hills beyond.

I imagined mornings here would feel like waking up in a castle.

Gavin left me to unpack while he went downstairs to take a call.

It felt surreal to place my folded clothes in the dresser and pair my shoes on the shelves in the closet.

I took my toiletries to the en suite and marveled at the large claw-foot tub and walk-in shower before setting my sights on the vanity.

It was clear which sink was Gavin’s, so I decided to unpack my things on the other side.

He said we would spend our weekends here, so it only made sense to keep it stocked with the products I normally used.

I could always buy more for the pent…house…

My stomach dropped when I opened the first drawer.

In it, there was a pink toothbrush, some face cream, and a bottle of perfume.

I took a breath and told myself it was random items other women had left here.

When I opened the second drawer, my heart sank further.

In it was a black leather cosmetic case with “CM” embroidered on the front.

Chelsea Marks.

Her things were still in this house, in Gavin’s favorite place in the world.

I was so lost in thought as I stood there, frozen, that I didn’t hear Gavin approach.

I jumped when his large hand reached in front of me to pick up the left-behind belongings.

“I told the housekeepers to clean out these drawers months ago,” he muttered.

“She stayed here with you.”

“A couple times,” he nodded with a guarded expression. “She preferred the city. This place wasn’t her taste.”

It dawned on me then, and I gripped the edge of the counter in an effort to keep from falling apart.

“Chelsea designed the penthouse,” I said and slowly raised my eyes to study his face. “Right?”

His lips formed a flat line, and he took a deep breath.

“I was with her for four years, Annalise,” he said after a moment. “It’s going to take time—”

“It’s been a year since you broke up,” I said, cutting him off. “She had access to the penthouse that you built for her. Her things are still here.”

He looked at me and cocked his head to the side with a hard expression.

I felt anger boiling up inside of me, and words started tumbling out of my mouth.

“What? Next it will be, ‘we dated for four years; it’s going to take time before I can stop fucking her.’”

“I told you I don’t have contact with her,” he said coldly. “What else do you want?”

“To not feel like I’m living her life,” I whispered.

Almost immediately, I regretted it, but what I said was the truth.

I was living in her house, filling her drawers with my things, and sleeping with her boyfriend.

I felt like an imposter, but a crappy one at that.

She was the shiny trophy, and I was just the ribbon for participation.

“You’re not living her life,” Gavin said firmly. “I can’t undo the past. Quite frankly, I don’t want to. Being with Chelsea isn’t something I regret, but there’s a reason she’s not the one here now. I am promising you my future, Annalise.”

I stared at him and really looked at the man I agreed to marry.

“Did you love her?” I asked.

I expected him to deny it immediately.

With one word, he could’ve assuaged my deepest fears.

Instead, he looked out the window and took a deep breath.

“I’m going to go make lunch,” he said tightly.

My stomach sank as I watched his retreating back exit the bedroom.

Maybe it was stupid to get so upset over his ex.

Maybe I only cared because I knew she wanted him back.

Either way, this argument wasn’t over—just put off for another time.

What I wasn’t sure of was whether we could overcome it.

There was no way I could eat anything now with my stomach in anxious knots.

Instead, I decided I needed some fresh air and started rifling through my freshly unpacked clothing to find a bathing suit.

I’d brought one on Gavin’s suggestion.

It was a red string bikini that left little to the imagination and flattered my tightly toned body perfectly.

I threw my blonde curls up in a messy bun and grabbed the tube of lipstick I’d brought on a whim.

The fiery shade matched my suit and highlighted the fullness of my lips.

If I was going to be angry, I was going to be hot doing it.

Lastly, I put my earbuds in and cranked up the volume on my favorite playlist to drown out the world.

It took me a minute to navigate my way out of the back of the house while avoiding the kitchen, but once I did, the pool was only a few short yards away.

An inflatable raft was floating by the edge, so I grabbed it and dragged it over to the stairs before climbing on.

The water was heated, which was lucky since I hadn’t thought about the fact that the days were getting cooler quickly.

I sank into the lounger and felt weightlessness take over.

It had been years since I last floated in a quiet, private pool on my own.

The feeling was heavenly.

It was easy to get lost in my thoughts and to find some clarity.

Asking Gavin if he loved Chelsea probably wasn’t fair.

We both agreed the two of us weren’t getting married for love.

If I was not only going to survive our marriage, but find my own happiness, I needed to let go of my jealousy.

He promised that Chelsea was out of our lives.

Until something proved otherwise, I supposed I needed to take his word for it.

After a few minutes, I rolled onto my stomach and pillowed my head in my hands.

This is the life he was offering me.

No stress.

No worries.

Just an opportunity to do as I pleased with very few strings attached.

Who in their right mind would demand more?

I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep until I was shaken awake.

My eyes flew open to find Gavin’s frantic face staring down at me while his mouth moved as though he were yelling.

I popped my earbud out and sat up.

“Huh?” I asked groggily.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Annalise!” he shouted and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve been looking for you for a half hour. How loud was your music?”

I grimaced. “Do you want, like, a decibel level, or…?”

He stood up and put his hands on his hips as though he were looking down at a petulant child before shaking his head and sighing.

“I thought you ran off again,” he said quietly.

“Can’t do that here,” I pointed out with a shrug. “I don’t drive.”

He crossed his arms and glared at me.

“I’m sorry,” I told him after a tense moment. “The water looked nice.”

I twirled my finger on the surface as I once again felt small under his serious gaze.

“You took the long way out here,” he mused.

I nodded. “I was avoiding you.”

“You were mad,” he agreed.

I felt my lip pout. “Not really mad,” I said. “More sad, I think.”

He crouched down by the water’s edge and reached out as I started to float away, but I was already out of his arm’s reach. I could’ve grabbed his hand, but I chose not to. It was easier not to be directly under his watchful eye.

My raft spun so that I was facing away from him, and I stared at the guest house that was easily larger than any home my family had ever owned.

When I didn’t hear a response, I thought he might have left, and my heart sank a little. It’s not that I necessarily expected him to comfort me, but a part of me wished he would continue the discussion.

I heard a small splash a moment later and turned to find him in his boxers, swimming over to me. When he reached my side, he immediately grabbed my hand.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s…” He seemed to be trying to find the right word. “Difficult to talk about Chelsea. She was someone I trusted completely, and it turns out she wasn’t the person I thought she was.”

I stared into the swirling darkness of his gaze and saw the raw pain there. I supposed he usually hid it. Gavin Powell wasn’t a man to reveal weakness.

“Did I love her?” He repeated my earlier question. “Maybe, I thought I did.”

“Did you tell her that you did?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking. A part of me had to know.

Gavin grimaced, and we both knew I had my answer. I nodded and looked away to avoid showing him my hurt.

“I could tell you that I love you, Annalise,” he said after a moment. “But you and I know it’s not something I believe to be real. It’s just words. I want to be honest with you, and the truth is, I don’t believe in love.”

“What if I loved you?” I asked him. “Would you believe in my love?”