Page 25 of Anti-Hero (Kensingtons: The Next Generation #2)

C ollins is pregnant.

I’m having a kid.

I used to think about normal shit when I ran. School, now work. Upcoming parties or trips. Sports scores.

Now, as I run, those two sentences cycle on an endless loop in my head.

I haven’t told anyone. I just tell myself, over and over again, like a motivational mantra. A motivational mantra that makes me want to vomit.

The girl I’ve been obsessed with since I was a teenager told me she was pregnant with my baby, and my reply was, “Fuck.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I was shocked. I am shocked.

After I brushed my teeth this morning, I stood at the sink for fifteen minutes, watching the toothpaste slide down the drain and listening to, Collins is pregnant. I’m having a kid , on endless repeat. Like it was a necessary reminder, not an impossible fact to forget.

I up the pace and sprint faster, even though I’m already dripping with sweat.

I fucked up.

Shock is a shitty excuse for my reaction. I knew I’d messed up before Collins left my office. I acted like a zombie throughout dinner, making up a hasty excuse to leave early, which undoubtedly annoyed the team I was meant to lead and likely meant Beauté would go in another direction.

As soon as I got home, I looked up Collins’s number in the employee database and called her. She didn’t answer—the first time I called or the three subsequent ones.

Maybe she knew it was me.

Maybe she doesn’t answer calls from unknown numbers. I debated leaving a message or texting her, but I didn’t know what to say.

Hey, it’s Kit. Just wanted to say sorry about my sperm. Call me so we can talk!

If I hadn’t known she was out of town, I would have simply shown up at her apartment. But that wasn’t an option this weekend.

I grit my teeth and sprint faster.

“I don’t expect anything from you . ”

That sentence stung. Expect is worse than want or need. She doesn’t expect anything from me.

Collins thinks I’ll—what? Ignore her like an inconvenient truth? Pretend she never said a word? Be a deadbeat dad?

I feel guilty about my initial reaction. Ashamed even. But I’m also pissed. I thought she’d finally stopped seeing me as a stupid sixteen-year-old. Since she started working for me, we’ve acted as a team. Interacted like equals.

I might have a reputation as a partying playboy, one that’s not entirely unjustified, but that’s not all I am. I work hard, and I take responsibilities seriously. She should have expectations of me.

The timer on my phone starts chiming merrily. A cheerful sound that only darkens my mood.

I need to shower and change and head into the office. I set my morning alarm an hour earlier than usual to ensure I’m in the office extra early and that there’s plenty of time to talk to Collins as soon as she arrives.

Banging the red button on the treadmill doesn’t do much to expel my frustration, but it’s something. As soon as the belt halts, I grab my water bottle and a clean towel and head for the elevator.

The shiny doors part as I approach, revealing Sadie Carmichael. Her eyes light up when she sees me, her smile only dimming when she registers which direction I’m headed in.

“You already worked out?” She pouts.

“Early meeting. See you around.” I step around her and into the elevator, but Sadie sticks a hand out, preventing the doors from closing.

My jaw works as irritation simmers in my bloodstream. My interest in small talk is currently nonexistent.

“Does an early meeting mean you’ll get to leave work early? I’m supposed to go to a happy hour tonight with some friends, but I’d rather drink with you.” She winks.

I could—and maybe should—simply tell Sadie I’m busy tonight and remind her I’m in a rush. A polite dismissal, like I did when she showed up at my office. Instead, I ask, “You ever have a crush on someone, Sadie?”

“I—of course.” She smooths her ponytail, confusion creasing her forehead.

“Well, I’ve had a crush on the same girl since I was in high school. And every time, I fuck it up with her in some way. I say too much, or I don’t say enough, or I—” I shake my head. “I’m trying to stop fucking it up. So, I can’t get a drink with you tonight. Or any other night.”

The disappointment on Sadie’s face fades, little by little, until she’s smirking at me. “Aw. That’s so cute!”

I grimace. Cute can usually be replaced by pathetic . “Yeah, thanks. Hopefully, she’ll start thinking the same one of these days.”

“Pffft.” Sadie’s gaze traces the length of my body, the appreciation in her gaze not quite extinguished. “How could she resist you ?”

I laugh as I run a hand through my sweaty hair. A sticky residue coats my palm when it falls back to my side. “She’s actually quite good at it.”

“Have you told her how you feel? Just straight-up asked her out?”

“Uh … it’s complicated.”

Sadie rolls her eyes. “Guys always say that. Just tell her you like her. How complicated can it be?”

“Well …”

She’s my sister’s friend.

She works for me.

She’s having my baby.

“It’s complicated,” I repeat .

“Okay. Whatever. If you need advice, you know where to find me.”

I smile. “Thanks, Sadie.”

“And if you get over this mystery girl, you know where to find me.” She winks again.

I huff a laugh and shake my head. Sadie’s flirted with me at every opportunity since she moved into this building at the start of the summer. But it never progressed beyond banter. I just bought this penthouse, and I don’t want to move anytime soon.

“Bye, Sadie.”

“Bye, Kit.” She drops her hand, and the doors slide shut.

I got ready for work in record time and step inside the building at seven forty-five. The lobby is empty. So is the first elevator that arrives.

Maya, who sits at the front desk, shoots me a bright smile as I approach. “Good morning, Mr. Kensington.”

I smile back, shoving the niggling nerves down as far as I can. I spent all weekend dying to talk to Collins, and now that the moment is almost here, I’m racked with anxiety and terrified I’ll fuck this conversation up.

“Good morning, Maya.”

I continue down the hallway, passing empty offices and desks, running through the list of questions I prepared about doctor’s appointments and custody arrangements and?—

She’s not here.

I check my watch and curse under my breath. It’s five of eight.

After depositing my briefcase by my desk, I head into the break room. I’m halfway through making Collins a coffee when I remember one of the pregnancy sites I browsed this weekend mentioned limiting caffeine intake.

I dump the coffee, brew her an herbal tea instead, and leave it on her desk before returning to mine.

My attempts to answer emails are pathetic. My gaze veers to the clock at the top of the computer repeatedly, literally watching the minutes tick by. I left my door open so I can see when she arrives.

Eight fifteen.

Eight thirty.

At eight forty-five, I accept she’s not showing up early.

At eight fifty-nine, I finally hear her voice.

I stand, banging my knee on the bottom of my desk in my haste, and stride toward the door.

She’s wearing all blue today. A sky-blue blouse, neatly tucked into a navy pencil skirt.

And she’s not alone. She’s walking with a blonde woman who is smiling and nodding and looks vaguely familiar. I’ve seen her around the office before, but I can’t come up with her name.

It doesn’t escape my notice that Collins normally shows up to work early and alone, but today, she’s appearing on time and accompanied. She’s also pointedly not looking in my direction. The blonde spots me first, her eyes widening when she notices I’m standing right where they’re headed.

“Good morning, Collins,” I greet.

Collins’s expression is impassive as she nods in acknowledgment. “Good morning.” She glances at her companion. “Margot, you know Kit Kensington? My, uh … our boss?”

“I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced.” Margot holds out a hand for me to shake, smiling brightly. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Kensington. ”

“Kit, please. And nice to meet you too.” My gaze leaps back to Collins. “I need to speak to you in my office.”

She sets her bag on the wooden counter that runs around the perimeter of her desk. “I need to check the messages first so I can flag anything urgent.”

I rap my knuckles on the wood. “ This is urgent.”

Margot’s eyebrows lift an inch. Collins doesn’t react at all.

I know I’m acting like an overbearing tyrant. An unreasonable boss. But the past hour spent staring at the clock has frayed my limited patience down to nothing.

I sigh. “Five minutes?”

Collins’s spine is stiff as she agrees, “Five minutes.”

When I sit back down at my desk, I have eight hundred forty-three unread emails.

I chug half my coffee before clicking on the most recent one. The worst part is, I worked over the weekend. Not very efficiently since I was distracted by Friday night’s events, but enough that the number would have been a lot higher if I hadn’t.

I still have eight hundred forty emails to go when my office door opens and Collins steps inside.

I sit up straight and adjust my cuff links. Debate standing and decide that’s more awkward.

“Take a seat,” I suggest, gesturing to the two leather armchairs across from my desk.

“I’m good standing, thanks.”

I frown and lean forward, resting my forearms on the edge of my desk. Collins is holding a piece of paper against her pencil skirt, but I can’t read what it says from here.

“I called you over the weekend. ”

As soon as the words are out, I regret them. That’s not how I meant to start this conversation—with accusations. But I do want her to know that I tried to have this conversation sooner. That I didn’t have a great weekend, that I had a torturous one.

She doesn’t scowl. She doesn’t smile either. “I only answer personal calls on the weekend.”

“It was a personal call, Collins.”

“From my boss, who must have gotten my cell number from the company directory.”

I clear my throat. “Well, I wasn’t calling about work. I was calling about …” The word baby won’t come out. “Will you please sit down?”

I don’t want to talk about this at work. In my office, which used to be my dad’s office, feeling like a slimeball who’s hiding an affair from his wife or something. But I can’t act normal all day while she’s sitting a dozen feet away. Can’t leave things like this for a second longer.

She doesn’t look thrilled about it, but Collins sits. Perches on the very edge of the cushion again, but she sits.

I exhale. “I just wanted to say?—”

My phone starts ringing, the shrill sound cutting me off.

I wait for it to go to voicemail. It does, then immediately rings again.

“You should get that,” Collins comments. “It’s probably important.”

“So is this ,” I growl, frustration rearing its ugly head again.

I don’t mean to snap at her. I’m trying to apologize , and it’s going terribly. Not only have all my carefully prepared questions fled my head, but it’s feeling impossible to have an uninterrupted conversation. Which is why I wanted to do this somewhere else, over the weekend.

My phone falls silent. Then promptly begins ringing for a third time.

I drag a palm down my face, tempted to toss the damn thing in a corner.

“It’s probably about the board meeting.”

My gaze snaps to Collins. “What board meeting?”

“The one at nine fifteen. It’s on your calendar.”

Goddamn it .

Board meetings only happen once a month, and they’re a big deal. This is my first one since joining the company. I should have been prepping for it over the weekend. Yet another thing I fucked up recently.

I glance at the clock. It’s 9:08.

This is going to have to wait. Not showing up to a board meeting isn’t an option.

“Are you free for lunch?” I ask.

“I just made plans with Margot.”

I clench my jaw, praying for patience. She couldn’t have known I was going to ask her, but it feels like Collins is being deliberately difficult. She’s certainly not making this any easier.

I deserve it. But I can’t fix anything if we don’t communicate.

“What about tomorrow?”

“You have a lunch meeting with the Boeing executives.”

For fuck’s sake.

My phone starts ringing for a fourth time. I answer it, worried there’s an actual emergency. Not that many people have my direct line.

“Kensington. What is it?”

“What a pleasant greeting.”

My mom. And I know why she’s calling—because I avoided her two calls over the weekend .

I pinch the bridge of my nose, already regretting answering. “I’m sorry. But now really isn’t a good time?—”

“You didn’t answer your cell, so I was worried. I just …”

I’m distracted from the rest of my mom’s sentence as Collins stands, sets the piece of paper she was holding on my desk, and then walks out of my office.

And I tune my mom out entirely as I stare at my pregnant assistant’s two weeks’ notice.

This awful morning just got a lot worse.