Page 21 of Gold Rush

Unless Flynn were revealed as my rebound. Then the overwhelming reaction would be intrigue. Not because of Carson’s choices or my last name. Because Flynn Parks is … well, Flynn Parks. He’s charming, he’s rich, and he’s gorgeous. Well educated, well dressed, with an actual personality rather than an incessant interest in discussing sports or the stock market. The cliché that girls crush on and guys attempt to emulate. And while Flynn has dated, he’s never appeared that serious about anyone. When I had dinner at Kit’s last month, he mentioned that Flynn broke up with the woman he had dated in Boston.

I genuinely thought Flynn was kidding last night, so I laughed first. Now, as absurd as his idea still sounds, I wish I hadn’t. Because he never laughed. Why didn’t he laugh?

“Rory!”

I pause, just short of the start of the hallway, glancing left. My sister is standing by the banister at the bottom of the staircase, beckoning me over.

“How are you holding up?” Wren asks when I reach her.

“Fine,” I reply. “Everyone’s been … attentive.”

“Lots of questions?”

I sigh. “Lots of questions.” And some questionable answers on my part.

I don’t mention talking to Etta. Most of my recent conversations with my sister—and the rest of my family—have revolved around reassuring them I’m past what happened with Carson. Mentioning his mom or his new girlfriend won’t accomplish that, and I’m tired of the topic of my ex anyhow.

“Busybodies.” Wren makes a face as she pulls her phone out, scanning the screen. “I’m about to head out. Just wanted to check on you before I left.”

“You’re leaving?”

They’re still circulating the last of the appetizers and cocktails. This party will probably last another three hours, minimum. Three more hours of explaining my unorthodox job and avoiding Etta. I’m exhausted at the thought.

“Sawyer just finished work. We only have one month left together.”

Wren says one month with the desperation most people would reserve for one minute. She’s always been a little dramatic, but it’s never been connected to a guy until Sawyer. I know how in love she is with him—it’s impossible to spend any time around them and come to a different conclusion. But Wren is normally upbeat and adventurous. Even after the recent revelation of her choosing Cambridge because of our grandfather’s interference, I thought she’d be somewhat excited about returning to campus for her senior year. I know she’s made plenty of friends there—three of them visited last week.

“You guys have done long distance before,” I remind Wren.

“Barely. We weren’t officially together yet. I didn’t know he was in love with me too. It’s totally different, you know?”

I don’t really. I’ve told two guys I loved them. Both times, they said it first, so I said it back rather than precipitate an awkward moment, rationalizing I could think about whether I really meant it later, alone. I was never sure if I did. My sister’s starry eyes make me think that was an answer in itself.

“It might be different in a good way,” I say. “Less uncertainty, right?”

“I guess.” Wren sounds unconvinced as she tucks her phone away, refocusing on me. “You’re okay? Really?”

More questions. At least I know Wren’s are in my best interest, not to mine for future gossip.

“I’m fine. Today will be the worst of it.” I hope. I clear my throat. “You haven’t, uh, seen Flynn around, have you?”

Wren looks surprised. Probably because I’ve never ever asked where Flynn was before.

“No,” she answers with an immediate, predictable follow-up of, “Why?”

“He’s normally at these events.”

“He took the bar earlier this week too, right?”

I nod.

“You know Flynn. He’s probably flying to Vegas or somewhere in Europe to celebrate. Since I knew you wouldn’t want to do that, I planned a spa day after brunch for you, me, and Mom tomorrow.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. It’s a big accomplishment, Rory. Plus”—Wren smirks—“you did all the hard work, and I get pampered too. So, win-win.”

I smile back. “Thank you.”