Chapter 27
It’s late—nearly two a.m.—by the time we return to the hotel. My throat is sore from singing. I’m tired, sweaty, tipsy, and I feel lighter than I have in a long time.
Tonight was fun. I wasn’t worried about running into anyone I knew. I wasn’t thinking about work. I just … was. And I fully recognize I could act that way in New York. It’s just easier to embrace a different mindset in a different country.
“See you tomorrow!” Wren waves at me before swiping her key card and disappearing into the room next to mine.
It takes me two tries to unlock my door. Inside, I kick off my heels, then collapse onto the bed. I should brush my teeth. Put on pajamas. Wash off my makeup. Instead, I pull my phone out of the clutch I brought to dinner and then to the club.
I have a new message from Flynn.
When that registers, I sit up straight, a jolt of adrenaline erasing any languid drowsiness.
Cross-legged on the comforter, I unlock my phone, a smile spreading across my face as soon as I see his message.
Flynn: Purr-fect night.
He sent a photo of Finch asleep, next to his leg, on the couch. I can see a stack of files and a glass of scotch in the background.
Longing shoots through me like a bolt of lightning.
I want to be there, on that couch. Tonight was fun …
but now I wish I were home. Funny, how the townhouse in Beacon Hill, where I lived for three years, was only a place to sleep and study and eat takeout, yet the Midtown apartment I bought four months ago fits that definition entirely—sanctuary, comfort, warmth.
The cause is obvious, and it’s not the location.
What is wrong with me? So, Flynn isn’t the feckless player I always suspected was a superficial front to more potential. So, he takes his job seriously and cooks me dinner every night and always ensures I come first.
Those traits can’t be that unique. Just because I’ve only found them in him doesn’t mean I won’t discover them in someone else, someone who isn’t using me to receive a payout from his parents.
I’m not sure how much money the Parkses have, but I am sure I have more.
If Flynn wanted to date me for real, wanted to marry me for real, he’d never need to take a dime from the father he obviously resents.
Flynn has never indicated interest in long-term commitment, has taken a drastic measure to prevent having kids. Unlike Carson, who told me he did want that sort of future together, Flynn has been entirely honest.
I know I don’t possess the necessary willpower to stop sleeping with him. Not the first time and definitely not now that I know how incredible it is. But that’s a physical urge. I need to be more disciplined when it comes to my emotions.
I flop back down on the mattress, tossing my phone away.
Except, a few seconds later, I hear a low ringing sound.
Quickly, I scramble to grab the device again.
My drunk fingers managed to hit the Call button above the text thread.
I hang up immediately, ensuring I shut off the screen before carefully setting it back on the comforter.
I need to go to bed. Lili has a full itinerary planned for tomorrow and—
My phone begins buzzing.
My heart leaps as my stomach sinks when I see the name on the screen.
I sit up again, blowing out a long breath before I answer. “Hey, sorry—”
“Is everything okay?” Flynn sounds alert. Concerned.
I’m instantly annoyed with him for not sounding like a detached fake boyfriend. Julian Parks can’t hear this conversation.
“Drunk dial,” I tell him. “I was checking my messages and hit the wrong button. All good.”
A pause.
“You’re back at the hotel?”
“Yep.” I pop the P.
His voice lowers. “Alone?”
A steady pulse thrums between my thighs. I used to go weeks—months—without sex. Fuck Flynn for that too. I can’t even hear his voice without getting turned on.
“No. I couldn’t decide, so I brought all four back with me.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I scowl. “You don’t think I could have a … fivesome?”
My duet with Lili received a lot of male attention. Maybe not four guys, but I could have brought company back to my room if I’d chosen to.
“I think you have too much integrity to break a promise you made.”
I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste copper. “Why’d you ask, then?”
“Was wondering if you’d lie to me.”
“It doesn’t count as a lie if you knew the truth already.”
“I’m not sure that argument would hold up in court, Counselor.”
I smile even though he can’t see me.
“Did you have fun?”
“Yeah, I did.” I lie back, snuggling deeper into the comforter. “Lili and I sang karaoke.”
“Is there a video?”
Probably. “No.”
“Speculation,” he objects. “Aren’t Fran and Bridget there? Sounds like the exact sort of thing they’d post.”
Of course he follows Lili’s friends. He’s probably slept with one—or both—of them too.
“Yeah. They’re here.”
Flynn’s quiet, seeming to register the somberness to my tone. I miss the days when I thought he was incapable of noticing anything that didn’t directly affect him.
I search for something, anything, to fracture the silence. I don’t want Flynn speculating why him mentioning other women might bother me.
“Your cat puns need work.”
“What? Purr-fect is a classic. And it’s a true cat pun since paw-some could apply to other animals too.”
I laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Finch doesn’t think so.”
My smile slips into a frown. “It’s so unfair that she prefers you. I’m the one who rescued her!”
“Probably because I’m the parent who feeds and pets her while you jet around the world, serenading guys with ‘Wannabe.’ ”
I groan, pressing a palm to my forehead. “You already saw it?”
“Yep.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Wren sent me a clip.”
I groan again. Not only is my cat more loyal to him, but my sister is too. “Unbelievable. Don’t expect any more embarrassing videos; I’m going to talk to her tomorrow.”
“Don’t be mad at Wren. I might have texted her a few times, checking in on you.”
He did?
“And it wasn’t embarrassing. I’ve seen—and starred in—far worse. Trust me.”
“Have you ever made a sex tape?” I blurt, instantly blaming the three palomas I downed earlier for the question I’ve never been bold enough to voice slipping out.
“No,” he answers. “Have you?”
“No, I—Carson suggested it, but … no.”
“Is it something you’re wanting to try now?”
“I’m—if you wanted to.”
“If I wanted to watch myself fuck you, I’d fuck you, Rory.”
I bite my bottom lip. “You said tempting when I mentioned it before.”
“When?”
“In the Hamptons, the night we were at Scarlett and Crew’s. I thought you were going to suggest a sex tape, and you said tempting.”
“I wasn’t talking about the tape part of the suggestion.”
“You … you would have had sex with me that night?”
“Of course.”
“But …”
“But what?”
We hadn’t agreed to anything. I hadn’t agreed to anything. There had been no negotiations about what we’d both get out of a certain arrangement. No terms to avoid anyone thinking our relationship wasn’t real or me being humiliated by a second boyfriend openly looking elsewhere.
I was there though, I guess. Convenient. I still am, right across the hallway.
“I meant it when I said I thought you’d never give me a shot.”
“I had no idea you’d ever—it was always Lili or Wren who you hung around with.”
“They were nicer to me. Took me a while to figure out some things are easy for a reason.”
I force a laugh, taken aback by the sudden veer into the past. History is final. It doesn’t matter what I used to think of him, or what he used to think of me, or where those misconceptions might have overlapped.
I’ve accomplished all the individual goals I set out to.
I wasn’t expecting the aftermath to feel so …
empty. I still would have graduated with honors if I hadn’t spent every night at home studying.
I would have noticed Carson was the wrong person sooner if I hadn’t been relieved all the times he canceled on me meant I could focus on an internship or reading case law.
I’d have more friends, more experiences, just more, if I hadn’t deprioritized everything else to achieve the law degree I’d placed on a pedestal.
It could have been easier. I could have gotten a B. Could have skipped a class. Could have casually dated. Could have spent more time with my family. Could have traveled to exotic places. Could have spent some of my inheritance, rather than invest and watch the interest increase.
Flynn had fun, and he wound up exactly where I am.
I make things harder than they have to be.
Like overanalyzing every aspect of an explicit arrangement.
It doesn’t get any more straightforward than a plan where you pretend to date.
Flynn is sleeping with me because I’m the only option who doesn’t violate our agreement.
The sex is so good, so different for me, because Flynn is so good at sex.
He texted Wren to convince her this was real.
Replied to the photo because he’d correctly guessed someone else had suggested I send it and might see his response. Everything is explainable.
“Rory?” he says, and I realize we’ve been sitting in silence.
“I’m here,” I reply quickly. “Just tired. I had more to drink than I normally do.”
That last sentence feels important to add. I feel like I’ve said too much during this conversation, starting with calling him in the first place, even though I told him it was an accident.
It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since I left New York. I should be able to go way, way, way longer without wanting to talk to Flynn.
“Get some sleep,” he says. “And drink some water.”
“Okay. See you Monday.”
“See you Monday.”
We hang up simultaneously.