Page 160 of Gold Rush

I haven’t seen Flynn since his speech. Dessert was served, and the band resumed playing, and no one has seemed to be in a rush to leave. It’s nearly eleven, and the ballroom is still packed. Flynn has a lot of friends.

“Yep.” Kit nods. “There I was, his best friend of almost twenty years, full of admiration about his philanthropic endeavors and his heart-warming speech”—Collins rolls her eyes—“and his first question was, ‘Have you seen Rory?’ ”

“It was a great speech,” Collins adds.

I’m nodding in agreement when I finally see him.

Flynn is standing by the stage, a large group huddled around him, listening raptly. I probably know most of them, but I don’t identify a single person. I’m too focused on him.

“Now we’re really leaving,” Kit states. “Super, super happy for you guys, but I was sort of hoping we were toward the end of the honeymoon phase.”

“I think it’s cute,” Collins says.

“Because you’re not related to either one of them,” Kit replies. “Would watching Jane make out with a friend of yours be cute?”

“Okay, I see your point,” she concedes when Kit mentions her younger sister. “And we are really leaving because my water just broke.”

“What?” Kit yelps. He glances around wildly. “Where’s there—can we—are you—” He cuts off when he spots Collins’s smirk, then looks down at the suspiciously dry hardwood floor. He exhales shakily, raking a hand through his hair. “That was not fucking funny, Monty.”

“I thought it was,” she says, then glances at me. “Rory?”

Kit’s attention swings my way, so I quickly wipe the smile off my face. “Somewhat amusing.”

My cousin scowls.

“It was for your own good,” Collins comments, taking his hand. “You’ll freak out less when it really happens.”

“I doubt that,” Kit says dryly.

He and Collins hug me goodbye, then depart. The next time I see them, they’ll have two kids, which is a crazy concept.

I start to make my way toward where Flynn is still standing, stopping and getting pulled into a few conversations. I catch up with Naomi, then chat with Philippa for a few minutes, finalizing plans for dinner later this week.

Four days after Julian showed up at my office, Flynn told me his father had released his full trust fund. That weekend, he drove to his parents’ and had a long conversation with his dad. Their relationship isn’t fully repaired, but it’s in a better place than it was last year.

I’m talking to Fran and Mallory, filling them in on the trip we took to visit Lili and Charlie around the holidays, when they both suddenly smile.

Strong arms wrap around me from behind. I relax instantly, inhaling his cologne.

“Hey, ladies,” Flynn greets. “Thanks for coming. Mind if I consult with my attorney for a minute?”

Mallory titters. “Of course not.”

“Bye, guys,” Fran says before walking off as well.

I pull away from Flynn so I can face him. Adjust his tie before meeting his gaze. “I prefer when you call me your fiancée.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle as he grabs my left hand, planting a kiss next to the diamond ring I’m wearing. “Oh, I know how much you love when I call you my fiancée, Florence. But consulting with my attorney sounded more urgent, and I’m maxed out on small talk. Dance with me?”

I nod.

Flynn keeps ahold of my hand, leading me toward a far corner of the room, close to the stage, where the band is performing. He stops in an open section, tugging me close so we’re more swaying than managing anything imitating a waltz.

“I liked your speech.”

“Duh. You edited it.”

“You never let me see my favorite part.”