Page 159 of Gold Rush

“Lloyd Clarke and Oliver Kensington, who were instrumental in the logistics of creating this foundation, I am so appreciative of your time, effort, and generosity. I will be the first to admit, I had no idea what I was doing when I started this process, and the credit for this organization’s existence is something I share with both of you. Lloyd, I wish August were here tonight.

“My parents, Philippa and Julian Parks.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch them both sit straighter in their chairs. They didn’t read Flynn’s speech ahead of time, like I did, and I’m guessing they weren’t expecting to be mentioned in it.

“We’ve had our fair share of disagreements. About, well, pretty much everything.”

Another ripple of laughter.

“But I have never had any doubt that you would come through when I needed you. When I asked you to be a part of this, you didn’t hesitate. And it’s much easier, in retrospect, to recognize how parents are acting in your best interest when, in the moment, it seems like overstepping.”

More laughs.

“I would have never met Penn if not for you insisting I start college that fall instead of taking the gap-year trip I heavily advocated for. There’s a lot in my life now that wouldn’t exist if not for that interference, and I’m extremely grateful for that.”

Flynn pauses.

“Rory—”

I go stiff with shock. The many versions of this speech I read never mentioned me, and I never expected them to. This is Flynn’s moment. His accomplishment.

“I could have created this foundation when I was single. The plan and the purpose and the paperwork—I had all that in place. But, like every other aspect of my life, you enhanced it. Each draft of this speech you read, each building you toured to find the right office space, each time I felt overwhelmed by the process … you made it all better. You make me better.”

I don’t realize silent tears are streaking down my cheeks until Philippa passes me a tissue. Her own smile looks a little watery, I notice. My parents are beaming at a table to the right.

“Tonight might have happened without you,” Flynn continues. “But the cake wouldn’t get served on time, and this speech would have sucked, and I wouldn’t get to stand up here and say that this foundation is my second-greatest accomplishment. Because the first will always be convincing you to spend your life with me. I love you.”

I love you too, I mouth.

I’m not sure if he can see me with all the lights beaming toward the stage, but he smiles like he can.

“Everyone, thank you for coming. Together, we can transform loss into purpose, remembrance into action, and resources into lives changed. Enjoy the rest of the evening.”

I’m talking to Perry and Macie when Collins taps me on the shoulder. After saying hi to her former colleagues, who head to the bar for refills, she gives me a weary smile.

“Kit and I are headed out.”

“Thank you so much for coming,” I say, giving her the tightest hug I can manage.

“We wouldn’t have missed it,” Collins says, wincing as she rubs her extremely round stomach. “I just wish BK had agreed to eviction a little sooner so that I could have attended without looking like a bloated watermelon. And drink more than a sip of champagne.”

Collins is a week past her due date. BK—Baby Kensington—could literally arrive at any moment.

“Almost there,” I say sympathetically.

“Yeah.” She sighs. “It doesn’t help that Dylan came early. I was prepared to be ready early this time, so of course I’m into the tenth month!”

“Is BK being late bothering you?” Kit appears, kissing Collins’s temple. “I haven’t really noticed.”

She gives him a half-exasperated, half-amused look. “No, I adore being heavily pregnant.”

Kit grins. “Home stretch, Monty.” He kisses her again, then hugs me. Glances around the ballroom. “He really did the damn thing, huh?”

“Of course he did.”

“He was looking for you, by the way.”

“He was?” I scan the room again, not spotting him anywhere.