The Selfie

ANNA

In the afternoon, Gavin went to his office to make a few phone calls. As his assistant—or apparently, former assistant—I knew that he was missing several important meetings today.

Part of me resented the fact that I was being all but forced to give up something I had worked so hard for. The other couldn’t help the excitement that swirled over how the “other half” lived.

Granted, between my salary and the fact that I didn’t pay rent, I lived comfortably in one of the most unaffordable cities in the world. However, I knew Gavin’s wealth was almost unfathomable.

I imagined it was only the fact that he worked so hard for everything he had that he seemed more down-to-earth than one might expect.

Still, I knew marriage with him would be far from easy. He was used to getting what he wanted, and I was a girl who’d picked up and started over at eighteen.

The person he knew did as he asked. But that wasn’t who I really was.

I only hoped he heard me when I told him not to expect unquestioning obedience in the confines of our marriage.

I took the time Gavin was busy working to catch up on a few of the messages that had been left while I was sleeping. Since I’d moved to the city, I’d met a lot of really amazing people that I felt blessed enough to call friends.

They were all in a panic over the news of my attack that seemed to be the headline on every network.

Even though I wasn’t one to use social media often, I chose to post a quick selfie with an assurance that I was just fine. Almost immediately, my phone rang.

~Ashleigh~.

We met a few years prior at a yoga class and became fast friends. She was the type of person who was so genuinely kind that you wanted to be around her.

She lived on the Upper East Side, raising two gorgeous children with her husband, who seemed to worship the ground she walked on. In a lot of ways, her life was the fairytale I dreamed of.

“Hey, Ash,” I answered, feeling somewhat uneasy.

“Umm, where are you?” she asked.

“Oh, it’s um, kind of a long story,” I muttered and moved to the seemingly unused sitting room for more privacy.

“Babe.” She took a deep breath. “The news is running wild with the idea that you and Gavin are sort of…an item. The background of the picture you just posted looks like his apartment.”

“Oh crap,” I breathed.

“I’m not judging,” she hurried to add. “Honestly, good for you.”

I pulled up the post I’d just made. Sure enough, I’d included enough of my surroundings that it was obvious I wasn’t in my own house. The view from his window was clear, and just over my shoulder was a small family portrait sitting on an accent table.

“Fuck,” I swore. “I’m taking it down.”

“Oof,” Ashleigh practically cringed over the phone. “Easier said than done. People are already sharing it, hon.”

I groaned and stared up at the ceiling. Gavin was going to be pissed.

“Were you guys out together last night?” she asked carefully.

“It’s kind of a long story,” I repeated as I plopped onto an uncomfortable chair.

~This could not get any worse.~

“Sure,” she said slowly. “Again, not judging—”

“We’re kind of engaged?” I blurted out and then grimaced.

There was dead silence on the other end of the line. I could practically hear the wheels spinning in Ashleigh’s brain.

“Weren’t you just on a date the other morning? Like yesterday?” she asked after a moment.

~Shit.~

“Sort of.” I grimaced. “Like I said—”

“Long story,” she finished.

“Right,” I sighed. “I’m so sorry to dump this on you, but can you just keep it quiet for right now?”

“Oh, babe, of course,” she promised. “The important thing is that you’re okay. You are okay… right?”

“Perfectly fine.”

~If you didn’t count the looming fake marriage and uncertain future, of course.~

“Then…I’m happy for you.” She still sounded skeptical, but of course she was. She was one of my dearest friends, and I had always vehemently denied anything between Gavin and me when questioned.

“Thank you, Ash. I know it’s out of left field, but it’s good.”

~Hopefully.~

I heard a baby start crying in the background. “Shoot. I’m so sorry. Sam just woke up. I have to go, but if you need anything, let me know?”

“I will.”

“I love you!”

“Love you too,” I told her.

I hung up before putting my head in my hands and groaning.

“Is everything okay, Ms. Miller?” I jumped before looking to see Margaret standing in the hall a few yards away.

“Yes,” I said quickly, even though I wasn’t really sure of my answer.

Margaret looked me over with kind eyes before offering a small smile.

“I was just finishing up the grocery list,” she explained. “Do you care to join me? We can go over your preferences so I can make sure they’re available.”

“Oh, um, sure,” I said, feeling out of place.

I stood to follow her, and she led me to the kitchen. She explained there was a tablet where she added items to a list and then shopped twice a week.

There was also a section where I could request that certain tasks be completed around the house, or appointments to be booked on my behalf—among other things. I listened politely, but could never imagine myself using such luxuries, especially when I didn’t even have a job to go to.

Margaret seemed to sense my discomfort. “Mr. Powell doesn’t take advantage of this either,” she explained. “But it is there should you decide to let the staff help. We are all paid to do these things.”

“I haven’t done anything to deserve this,” I admitted.

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to give it to you.”

“It’s not really like that.” I looked away.

“Hmm,” she murmured and put her hand over mine. I met her gaze, and she offered me a sympathetic smile. “If the two of you are together, then you’re exactly who he wants to be with.”

My face must have looked unsure because she gave my hand a squeeze.

I stared out of the large windows over the city skyline, debating my next move. “Can I ask you something in confidence?”

“Of course.”

I bit my lip and weighed whether I really wanted the answer. Finally, I decided I had to know.

“Does Gavin have a lot of women over?” I flinched slightly at my own question.

Margaret sighed. “Not here,” she said gently. “He’s only ever allowed one other woman here.”

“Chelsea.” Even as the name left my lips, I felt the pull of jealousy.

Margaret offered me a tight smile but didn’t deny it. I hated that it bothered me so much to think about her in his home. In reality, her relationship with Gavin was probably less scandalous than mine.

“He’s a good man,” Margaret assured me in a kind tone.

“I know,” I agreed and meant it. “I think this is all sort of a lot right now.”

She hummed her agreement and then stood from where we hovered over the counter.

“Well, I should get off to the store,” she said. “You can always text if you think of anything you need.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Ms. Miller,” she said with a slight bow of her head.

“One request,” I called out as she started to leave. She paused and turned back toward me. “Please, just call me Anna.”

“Of course, Anna,” she repeated with a smile.

I let my shoulders slump when she exited. My headache was returning, and I felt as though I needed to close my eyes.

I forced my feet to move toward the living room before sinking into the couch.

A vague memory about not sleeping with a head injury nagged at my brain, so I forced myself to send Gavin a text.

Seconds later, I felt him at my side.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, clearly concerned.

“Just a headache,” I explained. “I’m not sure if it’s from the concussion, or stress, or something.”

“I’ll call the doctor,” he said and started to tap in his phone.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” I assured him. “Can you just get me some Tylenol, please? I really think I just need some rest.”

He grumbled something incoherent before shoving his cell in his pocket and heading down the hall.

A moment later, he returned with two pills and a glass of water.

“Thank you.” I took them gratefully.

He knelt before scooping me up. I nearly shouted in surprise.

“Gavin!”

He didn’t even slow his stride.

“Yes, dear?” He seemed to enjoy my unease.

“I can walk,” I protested, even as I snuggled into the warmth of his arms.

“Hmm.” His chest rumbled against my cheek, and I sighed contentedly.

He nudged open the door to his bedroom before carrying me to the bed.

When he set me down, I felt somewhat disappointed at his sudden absence.

Then the edge sank slightly, and I looked up to see him climbing in.

“I thought you had to work?”

“I can answer emails from here,” he said gently.

“You don’t have to stay,” I yawned. “It’s okay.”

He smirked and shook his head. “Just go to sleep, Annalise. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

I finally let myself relax into the pillows.

As I started to drift off, strong hands stroked my hair. I hummed in pure contentment.

The last thing I felt was the gentle pressure of his lips against my forehead.