Page 92 of Gold Rush

“Good, Crew,” I reply, shaking his offered hand and returning his smile. “You?”

“I’d be better if my son returned my emails.”

Kit scoffs at the pointed comment. “I’m on my lunch break.”

Crew Kensington raises his eyebrows, then glances back at me. “You’re looking sharp. How’s the new job?”

“Long hours, late nights, and little acknowledgment.”

He smiles. “I remember those days. It gets better.”

“Don’t tell him that, Dad. I’m trying to recruit Flynn to work here instead.”

“Always a spot open,” Crew tells me. “We’d be lucky to have you.”

I have to swallow before saying, “Thanks, sir.”

“Sir? You’re family, Flynn. Especially since I hear you’re dating my niece.”

Flynn wasn’t exaggerating when he said everyone, evidently.

“Kit, check your emails,” his dad adds. “I need you to sign off on a couple of time-sensitive matters related to the gala.”

“Will do,” Kit replies, saluting.

Crew refocuses on me. “We’ll see you there?”

I’ve only attended Kensington Consolidated’s annual gala a handful of times, none of them recent. The past few years, the event has been held on dates I was out of town—in Boston, primarily. Even when I was technically available, I’ve often avoided it. My parents usually attend. If I show up, not only will I have to see them, but Julian will inevitably try to use me to chat up Crew or Kit or Oliver. But Rory always goes—her father is the fucking CEO of the company—and it will look strange if I’m not there to support her. Plus, we’re supposed to have a second dinner with my parents on Friday night. If Julian and I disagree about something, as we inevitably do during most conversations, maybe he’ll still be annoyed enough to avoid me at the gala.

I force a smile. “Of course I’ll be there. Looking forward to it.” I glance at Kit. “See you, man.” I walk over to give him an impulsive hug, clapping him on the back twice before saying, “I’m happy to be your emotional support person,” low enough that Crew can’t hear.

He claps me back. “Thanks, Flynn.”

We separate.

Kit grins before shoving my shoulder. “Better get back to your tiny cubicle.”

I flip him off before heading for the door. “Good to see you, Crew.”

“I’ll walk out with you,” he says, following me to the exit. “Email, Kit.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m looking now,” Kit says, heading for his desk.

I say goodbye to April, then continue down the hallway with Crew.

29

The woman at the hostess stand aims a polite smile my way as I approach. “Do you have a reservation, miss?”

“Yes. I’m meeting …” I finally locate Flynn in the crowded restaurant. Smile at the woman. “Found him. I’ll just …” I wave in his direction before I continue past the stand, weaving around tables until I reach the one where Flynn is seated.

He glances up, the expression on his face not the warmth I wanted—expected—to see. More disgruntled, maybe even disappointment.

“Hey. Should I …” I hover by the table, debating if I should take the chair next to him or the closer one across from him. “I guess I’ll⁠—”

“They’re not coming.”

I halt mid-step, then sink down into the seat across from him. “Oh.”