Chapter 34
Iclose my bedroom door. Shut all the blinds before crawling onto my mattress and nestling among the oversize pillows that match the patterned comforter.
Wren answers the video call on the third ring. She’s seated on her bed too—I can tell by the collage of photos I know she has pinned above the headboard.
“Hey! You …” Her face moves closer as she squints at the screen. “Where are you?”
“I’m in my bedroom.”
“Why is it so dark? Do you and Flynn have some sort of sex cave? Where is Flynn, by the way? I wanted to update both of you on the watch saga with Sawyer.”
“He’s at a Yankees game with Dad.”
“Aww,” Wren coos. “He finally got a son.”
“No, he didn’t. Flynn and I are never getting married.”
“Well, you never know—”
“I do know.”
My sister’s voice softens. “Don’t let the past affect the present. Your relationship with Flynn is totally different from what happened with Carson.”
“I know.”
Wren nods, looking relieved. “Good.”
“I know it’s different because it’s not real. We’re pretending to be together.”
Rapid blinking is Wren’s only reaction.
“Wren?” I ask uncertainly.
She slides off her bed, standing straight and starting to pace. “This must be a terrible cross-Atlantic connection. I could have sworn you said you’re pretending to date Flynn.”
“The connection is fine. That’s exactly what I said.”
“Florence Cynthia Kensington. Holy shit!”
“You cannot tell anyone, Wren. Not Mom or Dad. Not even Sawyer. No one.”
Wren stops walking. “Is this a prank? Or some sort of loyalty test? Is someone filming this?”
I flip the camera, panning it around my dim room so she can see it’s empty.
“Holy shit.” Wren sits down on her mattress again.
“You’re really surprised.”
“Of course I’m surprised. This is totally unlike you!”
“I know. But aside from that, it makes way more sense. I mean, imagine me and Flynn dating for real? Crazy.”
“Uh, not that crazy,” Wren states. “Considering everyone believes that’s exactly what’s happening.”
“I know.” I blow out a long breath. “It was supposed to be simple and straightforward. But it wasn’t supposed to be so easy to pretend. Be this hard to remember it isn’t real. It feels real, Wren, but it’s … not.”
“Oh, Rory.” My sister’s voice is overflowing with sympathy.
I swipe angrily at a tear that’s forming.
“He’s always irritated me. He’s narcissistic and arrogant and silly, and I should not want his opinion on my cases or miss him while he’s at a baseball game or worry Finch will want to live with him and I’ll be alone here again.
I’m trying not to care, I want to not care, but no matter what I do, it won’t go away. ”
Wren’s quiet for a few seconds. “Okay. Remember when we went bluffing with Sawyer and his friends?”
I nod. “Of course.”
“There’s that split second, before you hit the water, when you’re falling. And it’s scary and wonderful and you can’t really focus on anything else?”
I nod again.
“That’s what being in love is like. At first, at least, it’s like that all the time. Then you start to feel normal. Although Sawyer and I have been together for months, and my stomach got all fluttery when he called earlier, so some symptoms might be semi-permanent.”
I gape at her. “I’m not in love with Flynn, Wren.”
“Sure sounds like you are to me.”
“That’s—I’m—it’s a crush! A temporary yet confusing crush.”
Wren scoffs. “There’s no way you have a crush on Flynn.”
“Why not?” I demand.
“Because a crush is … it’s a fantasy. You’re enamored with the possibility of a person.
You focus on all their virtues and ignore—or don’t know—their flaws.
You said it yourself—he’s always irritated you.
And then you listed off reasons why. No mention of him also being a lawyer who you can discuss lawyerly topics with.
Or the time he tried to make me feel better on New Year’s Eve.
Or how cute it is that he calls you Florence.
Your names alliterate. No mention of how hot he is, which I know you’ve noticed because you notice everything.
You’re the most practical person I know, but emotions don’t listen to reason. ”
I’m silent. “Fuck.”
“This isn’t a bad thing, Rory. You were pretending to date. Just tell him you want to date for real. No one has to know.”
“I can’t, Wren. We made a deal.”
“A deal not to fall in love?” She’s smiling.
“No. To—his dad told him that he needs to get engaged to get part of his trust fund. Everyone was talking about what Carson did, and I wanted that to stop. I saw Carson’s mom in the Hamptons, and she said he’s in a new relationship, and I—”
“Wait. You guys are getting engaged as part of this?”
“That was the plan, yeah.”
“A proposal is not going to make your feelings less complicated, Rory.”
“I realize that. But I agreed to go through with that part. And I can’t blow things up right before Lili’s wedding.”
“Lili wouldn’t want you to be upset at her wedding.”
“She wants Flynn there. She invited him separately, long before we were dat—pretending.”
Wren’s smile is sympathetic, catching my slip. “I wish you’d talked to me about Carson moving on. Pretending to date another guy to—”
“It wasn’t really about Carson. I wanted everyone to stop gossiping about what had happened. Maybe part of me wanted to ‘win’ our breakup. But I’m … I’m relieved it happened. I’m not sure when, or if, I would have broken up with him otherwise. When I saw Carson at the company gala, I realized—”
Wren looks outraged. “He was invited to the Kensington Consolidated event?”
I nod. “I requested his name stay on the list.”
“Why?”
“We can’t avoid each other forever. It was inevitable we’d attend the same event again eventually. I didn’t see the point in delaying it.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“Barely. I didn’t—don’t—have anything to say to him.”
“You are over him,” Wren muses.
“Flynn talked to him more than I did.”
My sister frowns. “What did he say?”
“I don’t know. I missed most of it. But they were glaring at each other, so …” I bite my bottom lip. “Flynn hit him.”
Wren gasps. “At the gala?”
“No. At Proof. The night Carson cheated. Well, one of the nights he cheated, most likely. The night he got caught.”
“Back in May?”
I nod.
A smile slowly spreads across Wren’s face. “How … irritating of him.”
I roll my eyes. “I can take care of myself. Violence is never a solution.”
Wren smirks. “Did you tell him that?”
“No,” I admit.
“You liked him taking care of you.” It’s a statement, not a question.
My younger sister sounds older. Wiser.
I’m proud of her. I’m also unsettled by it.
A large part of my identity has always been being Wren’s older sister.
I was the one she called to help her sneak in after she stayed out too late.
The one who comforted her. Who ensured she was being somewhat responsible, even during her most irresponsible moments.
She’s close to graduating college, to embarking on an independent life of her own.
“Imagine you’re at the gala next year. You and Flynn got engaged, then broke up—whatever the brilliant, misguided plan was. You see him. How do you feel?”
“I can’t predict how I’ll feel a year from now.”
“What if you feel the same as you do now? Wouldn’t it have been worth trying? Telling him how you really feel?”
“He’s Kit’s best friend, Wren. They’re like brothers. Crew and Scarlett love him. Mom and Dad love him. I’m going to have to be around him. What if I tell him, and this was all pretend to him, and it’s incredibly awkward forever?”
“More awkward than everyone thinking you guys got engaged, then broke up? Because that doesn’t sound like a simple dynamic either.”
I groan. “We would be simple though. I’d rather everyone think it was awkward and it not feel awkward than it feel awkward.”
“Option three: You and Flynn could live happily ever after.”
“We don’t want the same things, Wren.”
“He said that?”
“It was … strongly implied. Commitment? Marriage? Kids? Not interested. That’s why he wanted to do this. His dad was pressuring him to settle down, and Flynn’s solution was to pretend he did.”
“Well, duh. What guy gets married just because his dad tells him to?”
“Uncle Crew did.”
“Okay, one example. And obviously, he wanted to marry Scarlett. She’s amazing.
But it’s human nature to not want to do something because someone told you to.
Unless Flynn flat-out told you he’d never get married or have kids, I’d bet he’s open to both.
Sometimes, it takes the right person to change your perspective.
Sawyer was pretty relationship-averse when we met.
Or look at Kit. He never talked about marriage or kids before he and Collins got together. ”
I nod slowly. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good.”
“Enough about me. How are you?”
“So busy. I’m trying to get ahead on everything so I can spend a few extra days in New York while I’m there for Lili’s wedding. Most of my professors have been great about it, but a couple have given me extra assignments to complete instead. Basically, I’m being punished for being responsible.”
I smile. “I’m proud of you.”
“Someone had to be the academic in the family now that you’re through your bazillion years of school.”
“Law school was only three extra years, Wren.”
“I know, but—”
The bedroom door hinges rattle suddenly. I sit up, heart thundering.
“What?” Wren asks, frowning at the expression on my face.
“It sounds like someone is here,” I whisper. “Flynn?” I say at a normal volume.
No response.
I slide off the bed and tiptoe over to the door. Again, the hinges rattle, followed by a low scraping sound.
“What’s happening?” Wren questions loudly. “Did someone break in? Call the police!”
I close my fingers around the doorknob, twist it slowly, then yank the door open.
Finch saunters into my room, her tail swishing with annoyance about the delay in being accommodated. There are four neat lines scratched into the white paint by the bottom hinge of the door.
“What’s happening?” Wren demands.
I flip the camera so she can see the marks. “Finch was trying to break into my room!”
Wren frowns. “Why do you sound so happy about that? Get her one of those scratching-pole things before she wrecks your apartment.”
“She has one. Two actually. But she wanted to come in my bedroom!”
“Yay?” Wren says, clearly confused but attempting to match my enthusiasm.
“Finch prefers Flynn,” I explain. “I’m basically a treats dispenser. But she tried to get in here. She wanted to be with me!”
“That’s great, Rory.” Wren sounds like she’s fighting laughter.
I pan the camera to where Finch is circling the upholstered bench at the end of my bed. She jumps up, curling into a gray fluffball at one end.
I crawl back onto the mattress very carefully so I don’t disturb her. “So, what’s the watch update?”
“He’s keeping it. But I had to agree to a maximum amount on all future gifts.”
“That seems reasonable.”
“I’ll just have to get creative. Buy myself a sailboat, but ignore the boom or oversteer. Sawyer won’t be able to resist jumping in.”
I’m as lost as I was during the sailing conversation at Atlantic Crest. The only boats I’ve been on had motors.
“Don’t push him too much, Wren. It’s a good thing he has limits. You don’t want to be with a guy who expects you to fund your entire relationship.”
Wren raises both eyebrows.
“What?”
“Nothing. That’s just incredibly similar to something Flynn said.”
“He grew up with money. It’s different.”
Even as I say it, I’m thinking about all the gifts Carson accepted without protest. His childhood was comfortably wealthy, too, yet he’d let me pay.
It never really bothered me at the time.
I perceived it as he wasn’t emasculated by my money, that he respected my independence.
Yet Flynn has insisted on paying every time we grocery shop together or when we ate dinner without his parents.
He’s never mentioned the checks I haven’t deposited, but the amount doubled September 1, so he’d noticed I hadn’t taken the August payment.
“Oh, some good news! Remember Gus, Sawyer’s friend?”
I nod.
“He and his girlfriend got back together. Thank God, really, because they’re two of the nicest people and perfect for each other.”
“That’s great.”
“It is,” Wren agrees. “Listen, I’ve got to go to a study group thing. But call me anytime if you need to talk. Okay? And I’ll see you”—she glances away, presumably at a calendar—“in fifteen days.”
“I will. And thanks, Wren, for talking.”
“Anytime. Truly. I mean it.”
“I know you do. Love you.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
I hang up and toss my phone on the bed.
Finch lifts her head, staring at me with unnerving alertness.
“Did you only come in here because Flynn is gone?” I ask.
She blinks.
“Do you think I should tell Flynn I might be a little bit in love with him?”
She drops her head again, appearing to go back to sleep.
I sigh. “Good talk.”