Page 142 of Gold Rush

We ride in tense silence the remaining drive to the hotel.

While I’m pulling into the parking lot, Rory asks, “When do you want to tell your parents?”

“Oh, telling my family is up for discussion?”

Her exhale is frustrated. “I’m doing exactly what you wanted, Flynn. What the fuck is your problem?”

I don’t know exactly, but I think it has a lot to do with Rory proceeding with the plan as though nothing had changed. Which means nothing has changed on her side. She pulled the trigger to end this, and I’m more upset about that than the fact that I’ve gained nothing by her doing so.

“My problem is, there’s no point. My dad isn’t giving me the money. H-he changed his mind again. I should have never gotten you involved in this. I’m sorry I asked you to lie to everyone.”

She’s silent for a minute. I’m too cowardly to glance over and try to read her expression as I pull into an open spot and shut off the engine.

“Maybe he’ll change his mind when he hears we’re⁠—”

“He won’t.”

“When did he change his mind? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I was waiting until after the wedding,” I say, ducking the first question. “Breaking up before, it would have … complicated things.”

Rory laughs once. Humorlessly. “Yeah. I should have asked you before I announced our engagement this morning.”

There’s no fight or contrition in her tone now. Just an empty echo.

I fiddle with the keys. “We can, uh, we can wait a little while before we tell everyone. I’ll find a new place. And there are some openings at the Boston office that I⁠—”

Rory was nodding along. Now she stills and stares at me. “You’d leave New York?”

Up until this moment, that was not something I’d considered. There are openings at the Boston office—probably because New York is the superior city; a firm-wide memo was circulated last week. Do I want to leave New York? No. But it would be an easy explanation for my relationship with Rory falling apart—my track record with long distance is especially terrible. And if I’m avoiding my parents, and Kit is busy with his kids, and spending time with the Kensingtons becomes hanging out with my ex’s family rather than my best friend’s, and Rory starts dating Knox Wellington …

“I’m considering it,” I answer.

“Wow. Figured you were a New York or nowhere kind of guy.”

“I’ve lived here most of my life. Change is good, right?”

“And boredom is bad.”

“I’m not bored of New York.”

“I wasn’t talking about New York.” Before I can respond to that or ask what it’s supposed to mean, Rory adds, “What are you going to do about the foundation?”

“I don’t know yet. Fundraise, I guess.”

“If you’d told me sooner—a lot is just sitting in my accounts, Flynn. It could be a loan, and no one has to⁠—”

“I don’t want your money, Rory.” My reply comes out harsher than I intended. I hate that she offered. That she’s trying to help me, still, when all I’ve done is be another problem for her to fix. I soften my tone before I say, “But you should deposit my rent checks. You should get something out of this.”

“Gee, thanks. The perfect present for a billionaire—more money.” Her tone is thick with sarcasm.

Rory’s pissed at me, and she should be. I can’t manage to get anything right in this conversation.

I rub my thumb against the rough edge of one of the keys. “If Knox is still on your list … he didn’t know about Carson’s cheating.”

Rory unbuckles her seat belt. “Wren asked me to drive back with her.”

That’s all she says, no response to my comment about Knox. Maybe she already decided to give him a shot during their conversation on the beach this morning.