Page 149 of Gold Rush

“Morning, Mr. Parks.”

“Julian, please.”

I tie the belt on my coat, ensuring the knot is tight. “What can I do for you, Julian?”

“I apologize for showing up at your place of work, but I”—he clears his throat—“wasn’t sure where else to find you.”

“Philippa has my number.”

“My wife doesn’t know I’m here. We’re … can I buy you a coffee?”

“I’ve already had two cups.” Side effect of a sleepless night spent waiting to hear Flynn come home, then listening to him get ready for bed, then wishing he were in mine. “Any more caffeine, and I’ll get jittery. But I have”—I check my watch—“twenty minutes until my next meeting, if you want to take a quick walk?”

Relief washes over Julian’s features. It’s not until I see it that I realize he took my first two sentences as a rejection. The glimpse of emotion humanizes him some.

“I’d appreciate that, if you have the time.” He holds the door open, waiting for me to walk out first.

The fall air is crisp and brisk, almost chilly enough to merit a warmer coat. My winter clothes are stored in the closet in Flynn’s bedroom, so I’ll probably wait until after he’s moved out to swap my wardrobe.

“Beautiful building,” Julian comments as we walk along the sidewalk.

“It used to be a bank,” I tell him. “We use the vault as a file room now.”

He hums. “Did you always intend to become a public defender?”

“Not necessarily. I’ve always known I wanted to be an attorney. I have an … inclination toward the law. I like rules. I like the clear classification of right and wrong. I was born with a lot of advantages. Doing something that improved people’s lives, where I could see some impact I was making, that was most important to me. Working here felt like the right fit.”

We reach Tweed Courthouse at the end of the block.

Julian stares at the stately building. “Built in the Italianate style with Romanesque Revival interiors.”

I glance at him, surprised. “You’re interested in architecture?”

“In another life, I would have studied it as more than an amateur. Things worked out differently. Better mostly, but different than I expected.”

“My mom is an architect.”

He half smiles. “I know. I’ve always admired your family. It’s rare to achieve the level of success your grandfather did. Even rarer for subsequent generations to be as determined to achieve.”

“I agree. But I don’t think it’s something you need to admire about my family when yours is the same way.”

Julian inclines his chin. “You’re referring to Flynn?”

“Unless you have other children I don’t know about.”

There’s a brief flash of amusement on his face. “Just the one son. Who isn’t currently speaking to me.”

I say nothing. I assumed Flynn took his father reneging on their deal poorly, but I didn’t realize it meant they weren’t communicating at all.

“I suppose your silence means you support that decision?”

“I support Flynn, yes. That’s what you’re meant to do for the people you love, not manipulate them to get what you want.”

Julian’s eyes drop to my bare left hand. “I heard you announced your engagement.”

“Yes.”

That solves the mystery of why he’s here, I guess. Because he approves? Disapproves? Cares? Doesn’t care? I can’t tell.