Book Four Preview
Asea of rapt faces is spread before me. I glimpse approval, pride, a few pockets of clumsily concealed envy.
And then, at the very back of the crowd, one head turned left.
A grin appears on the half I can see, dimple creasing a stubbled cheek, as he thanks the waitress delivering a fresh drink.
He raises the glass, sips, and continues staring at the ocean, away from the stage set up on Atlantic Crest Country Club’s expansive lawn.
My smile slips, annoyance struggling to break through, but I fix my expression before anyone notices. Most attention is aimed at my parents, who are mid-speech, thanking everyone for attending my graduation party.
I did not want Flynn Parks to be at my graduation party.
I really did not want Flynn Parks to be at my graduation party and distract me with his blatant desire to be elsewhere. Daydreaming about a different sort of club. Or a bar. Or wherever else he goes to drink and pick up women—his two favorite hobbies.
Although, allegedly, he has a girlfriend currently. Poor woman. I cannot come up with the name of someone worse suited for commitment.
“And, of course, to Rory—the reason we’re all here.”
I glance at Dad, beaming at me with one arm wrapped around Mom’s shoulders.
“Congratulations, Esquire,” he continues. “Your mom and I could not be prouder of the intelligent, brilliant, accomplished woman you are. New York prosecutors, beware!” Dad raises his glass of champagne, and everyone, including me, emulates the motion. “To Rory!”
“To Rory!” the crowd echoes, then drinks.
I walk over to my parents, reaching Mom first. I hug her, then embrace my father. “Nice speech, Dad.”
“I meant every word. When did my girls get so big?” he says, letting go to survey me in the black cap Mom suggested I rewear for the occasion.
“You’re finished with law school. Wren is only one year from graduating college.
Both with boyfriends.” Dad glances over to where Wren is laughing with Sawyer since my boyfriend isn’t here.
“We’re still your girls, Dad,” I tell him.
He kisses my forehead, nearly knocking the cap off. “I love you, sweetheart.”
“Love you too.”
“Stop hogging the graduate, Oliver!” Lili nearly shoves Dad out of the way so she can give me a hug, followed by her fiancé, Charlie.
More family members appear. My cousin Kit with his girlfriend, Collins, and their son, Dylan.
Lili and Kit’s younger brother, Bash. Their parents—my aunt and uncle—Scarlett and Crew.
My grandfather, Arthur Kensington, who gives me an approving nod before introducing me to a former business associate.
The older man immediately makes a comment about how I should consider working at his son’s firm, as if I haven’t heard a dozen similar pitches this afternoon, then launches into a complaint about a change to the golf course’s landscaping.
I extricate myself as soon as possible, but get caught in another conversation immediately.
This time about the much younger actress Camden Crane is allegedly dating after his divorce.
I’d rather hear about the grass’s height.
I excuse myself from that discussion, too, heading toward the table where my little sister is sitting.
Despite how exhausting today has been, for multiple reasons, I smile as I approach the patio.
Wren and I are opposites in many ways. She’s generally considered the “fun” sister, but I’ve never seen her more vibrant than she is today. I figured her Marina Guy was a phase, but Wren is literally radiating happiness, whispering something to the man seated next to her.
“The belle of the ball, gracing us with her presence?” Wren teases, glancing up as I take an open chair opposite her. “How exciting.”
“Thanks for lining up to congratulate me,” I state dryly, settling in the seat with a relieved sigh. I’ve been standing for most of the day.
“I sat through your four-hour commencement ceremony in the sweltering sun. I feel like my sisterly obligation was fulfilled then. Although”—Wren straightens—“I did get you a pretty fantastic graduation gift. Want to open it?”
She looks too excited for me to answer anything except, “Sure.”
Wren jumps out of her seat. “Be right back!”
I aim a polite smile at Sawyer as she rushes inside. Guests were instructed to leave gifts on a table in the dining room. Last I looked, you couldn’t even see the walnut surface. It’s going to take me a while to write all the thank-you notes.
“I’m Rory,” I say since we’ve never been formally introduced.
“I know,” he replies, smiling slightly. “I’m Sawyer.”
I smile back. “I know.”
Sawyer shifts in his seat. “Congratulations. This is quite the party.”
“Thanks. I was hoping it’d be a little … smaller. My family tends to draw attention.”
I could have insisted the guest list be more limited, but I didn’t want to disappoint everyone.
“Yeah, I’ve noticed that.” Sawyer reaches for his glass, taking a sip, then tugs at the collar of his button-down. “ ‘Prosecutors, beware’—that means you’re doing defense work?”
I nod. “I’ll be working in the Manhattan Public Defender’s office.”
“That’s awesome,” he says, sounding genuine. “My-my dad was a cop, so I know a little about … it’s a tough job.”
“Can be,” I agree.
“Uh, speaking of legal matters, I know you … I know that you did me a favor a few summers back. That Wren asked you for one.”
“Asked?” I roll the stem of my champagne glass between two fingers. “It was more of a demand.”
Sawyer appears unsurprised by the correction. Wren has only shared bits and pieces of their relationship with me, but I know she met him years ago, back in high school. He knows her well, it seems.
“Right. Well, thank you. I did not ask Wren to get involved, but I should have predicted she’d—” He huffs, and I suppress a grin. “Thank you. Truly.”
I’m taken aback—touched—by his genuineness. I wasn’t expecting him to ever mention the favor, let alone tell me how much he appreciated it.
“You’re welcome,” I reply. “It was no big deal.”
“It was a big deal to me.” He clears his throat, still appearing slightly uncomfortable. “I also realize that means you know why I needed a lawyer—”
I lean forward, lowering my voice. “Sawyer, you don’t owe me anything. I’d do a lot more than call an old mentor to make my sister happy.”
“I just want you to know it won’t be happening again. I made a lot of mistakes when I was younger, and I’ve learned those lessons. I’d never let Wren be affected by any of that. I just—I needed you to know that.”
Again, I’m struck by his sincerity. How many fake, opportunistic people am I acquainted with that the most meaningful conversation—aside from with my family—I’ve had at an event attended by nearly everyone I’ve ever known is with a virtual stranger?
“I wasn’t worried,” I assure him. “Wren is an excellent judge of character, and she obviously adores you. That’s good enough—more than enough—for me.”
Sawyer smiles. “Thanks, Rory.”
I’m not sure why he cares about my approval. I assumed he’d be more focused on acquiring my parents’ support. But it’s flattering that he seems to.
Saying I’m the afterthought in my family sounds pathetic, but there’s some truth to it. I’m less outgoing than my sister or my cousins, and most people interpret the shyness or uncertainty as standoffishness.
“Boy, did you get a big haul.” Wren plops back into her former seat next to Sawyer, face flushed as she holds a gold-colored gift bag out to me.
“Took me forever to find this. Oh”—she quickly glances between me and Sawyer—“did you guys have a chance to meet earlier? Rory, this is Sawyer, my boyfriend.”
Sawyer mouths the word boyfriend at her, and Wren’s cheeks go from pink to red.
“And, Sawyer, this is my sister, Rory.”
“We met,” I say, smiling at them.
I attempt to ignore the wistful pang in my chest. A sensation like the one I sometimes get when looking at my parents. They’ve been married for almost thirty years, and yesterday, I walked in on them kissing in the kitchen like teenagers.
Lili is engaged. Kit has started his own family. My older cousins made settling down appear effortless, and now Wren seems to be doing the same.
I glance at the empty chair to my left. The cushion suddenly moves, pulled away and then disappearing under a set of navy slacks. I stare, suffused with relief. He came—
“What’d you get, Florence?”
My gaze snaps up, spine stiffening simultaneously. Not only am I disappointed Carson didn’t skip his family commitment after all, but I’m instantly irritated by the arrogant drawl. Also flustered by his use of my full first name and the realization of where, on who, my eyes were just lingering.
Flynn’s arm brushes mine as he leans over to glance inside the gift bag from Wren. We’re both wearing sleeves—me a cardigan over my dress and him a suit jacket—but I feel the contact anyway.
He hums. “Cute,” he comments, giving Wren a thumbs-up.
My sister smirks. “Flynn, this is my boyfriend, Sawyer. Sawyer, this is Flynn Parks.”
“Nice to meet you, man,” Flynn says, half standing to shake Sawyer’s hand across the table.
His right arm brushes my left one again when he sits back down, and I fight the urge to remind him what personal space is.
“Although,” he continues, “since Wren doesn’t have a brother, I feel obligated to add that I’ll kick your ass if you hurt her.”
How sexist. He thinks I can’t threaten my sibling’s suitors myself?
“Would you?” I question sweetly. “Or would you be the one getting your ass kicked in that scenario?”
Flynn glances at me, and I immediately regret drawing his attention this way.
Our interactions are easier, much easier, when he’s focused on someone else.
I’m also certain he’s thinking about the last New Year’s Eve when we both attended one of Kit’s parties, which is a night I’d rather not think about. Especially around him.