Chapter 38
Lili’s rehearsal dinner is being held at her parents’ Hamptons home. I haven’t been here since the night I called the cops on Flynn. And I’ve never before spent time in the Hamptons after Labor Day, the traditional end to the summer season.
I’m nervous about this weekend. Not the normal maid-of-honor nerves, trying to ensure every detail is perfect, which is my automatic tendency anyway. My anxiety is the same source of my current amusement. Flynn is making faces at Dylan, who’s giggling, entirely enthralled by his dad’s best friend.
So am I.
“Did you tell him yet?”
“Jeez, Wren.” I tighten my grip on the thin stem of the champagne flute, spinning to face my sister.
She rolls her eyes. “I’ll take that as a no.”
I lower my voice. “Can we not discuss this here?”
Wren’s sigh is exaggerated. “We’re doing family photos down by the water in fifteen minutes. Mom wanted me to tell you. Have you seen Bash? I can’t find him.”
“He was talking to Blythe in the dining room, last I saw.”
“By the hot Brit, of course.” Wren throws her hands up in the air. “Where I should have looked first.” She strides off.
I glance back toward the pool. Flynn is gone, along with the other guys he was standing with.
Collins and Kit are still sitting under the umbrella covering one of the patio tables.
Collins is feeding Dylan chunks of melon while Kit beams at them like they’re the most fascinating sight in the world.
There’s so much visible love emanating from the domestic scene that it feels like I’m staring straight at the sun. Blinded by bright and light.
I still want that.
The happy, predictable ending. I want a big wedding with everyone I know and everyone my family knows in attendance.
I think it’s the one day I would appreciate being the center of attention.
I would have someone beside me, someone to share it with, and that’s never happened with any of my past achievements.
And maybe it’s strange to think of marriage as something you accomplish, but it’s not something that comes easily either.
Not the kind of partnership I want at least.
“Perfect weather, huh?” Mallory sidles up beside me, surveying the pool and the yard. Both are blanketed with gold as the sun sinks over the water. “Lili gambled with an outdoor wedding in the fall. Looks like it paid off.”
“It does,” I agree.
“Fran showed me her dress for tomorrow. They’re gorgeous.”
I nod. “Scarlett designed them.”
Something Mallory’s sister likely mentioned to her, too, but I’m unsure what else to say.
I’ve never been able to tell if Mallory likes me or not.
I’ll always associate her with the awful morning I learned about Carson’s cheating.
I hope she showed me that video to ensure I wasn’t blindsided in addition to wanting to see my reaction for gossip purposes.
Mallory glances around the patio. “Is Flynn here?”
Another strike against me among my peers, aside from my tendency to follow rules, which is rarely considered a desirable trait to associate with. The girls I grew up with all think I’m dating the guy they want.
“Somewhere,” I answer.
“He’s so popular.” Mallory laughs, tapping a manicured fingertip against the side of the glass. “Must be hard to keep track of him.”
“I’m not trying to keep track of him.” I don’t mean for the edge in my voice to exist, yet it sneaks in anyway.
I’m aware it’s incredibly ironic that I’m annoyed by the incessant interest and assumptions related to my relationship with Flynn when that was the entire point of this arrangement, and that awareness does absolutely nothing to diminish my annoyance.
“Good for you.” She smiles, but it has a hint of fake. Of condescension.
Mallory is waiting for Flynn to get bored with me, and she’s not the only one.
“Refill?”
A fresh glass appears in front of me, topped with a wedge of lime. Flynn takes the flute of champagne I’ve barely drunk from, handing it off to a passing waiter.
I swallow a sip of my new drink. Sparkling water. “You trying to keep me sober?”
“Cops might show up otherwise.” Flynn winks, causing a swooping sensation in my stomach. “Hey, Mallory. How are you?”
“Great,” she chirps.
The expression on her face is the same way I’ve seen a lot of women look at Flynn. And I don’t want to witness it. If I do tell Flynn how I feel about him, like Wren is doggedly encouraging, then this might be our last weekend together. For now, the doting-girlfriend part is still mine to play.
I transfer my glass to my right hand and reach for his forearm with my left, wrapping my fingers around his suit jacket in a possessive gesture neither Flynn nor Mallory miss. He looks entertained, Mallory subdued.
“Want to walk down to the water?” I suggest. “The sun is about to set.”
“What a delightful suggestion, baby.”
I internally roll my eyes at his overdone enthusiasm, simultaneously secretly swooning at the endearment. Maybe he thinks it’ll annoy me, the way that Florence does, although that has grown on me as well.
“See you later, Mallory.” I aim a polite smile at her, then walk with Flynn past the pool.
“What was that about?” he asks as soon as we reach the grass.
“What was what about?” I play dumb, and I’m quite certain my innocent tone would work on anyone else.
Flynn is persistent. “You can see the sunset from the patio.”
“I had to come down here anyway,” I inform him. “We’re taking family photos.”
“Did Mallory say something?”
“During our conversation? Yes, words were exchanged.”
“You’ll tell me later,” he says breezily, sounding fully convinced.
“I’m not having sex with you tonight. My grandparents are staying at the same hotel.”
“Dean and Cynthia? Met them earlier. They’re super nice. Cynthia gave me some cooking tips.”
“They are nice,” I agree. “And Lili said the rooms in the wedding block were all together, so …”
“So, they had three kids. Meaning they’ve—”
I spin left, reaching for his mouth so I can cover it with my palm. Half of my drink winds up watering the grass. “Stop. Talking.”
He laughs, the deep, husky sound lingering for a few seconds before the salty breeze sweeps it away. “Fine, no sex. I’ll just go down on you.”
My mouth opens, my automatic reaction to argue. But then I think, What the hell am I doing?
“Okay.”
Flynn laughs again. “Knew it. You love my tongue in your—”
I reach for his mouth again.
He pivots, pushing my hand away. “I can’t make you come with my mouth if you cover it.”
I shake my head, smiling, turning back to face the water. We’ve reached the gate that marks the start of the path down to the private stretch of shoreline. The ocean is calm, a deep, vibrant blue.
“It’s so pretty here.”
“Mmhmm.”
But when I glance over at Flynn, he’s not looking at the water. He’s staring at me.
I shiver, setting down the cold glass on the grass, and then tuck some of the hair the wind has tugged loose behind my ear.
“You cold?”
“I’m fi—”
Flynn is already shrugging out of his jacket.
“A little,” I admit. It’s chillier, closer to the water, especially with the sun progressively sinking. His jacket settles over my shoulders, still warm from his body. “Thanks.”
“Photo time, lovebirds!”
Wren is running barefoot across the grass toward us, blonde hair streaming in the salty breeze.
Sawyer is behind her, proceeding at a normal pace, my other family members silhouetted farther in the distance.
Kit is carrying Dylan, whose hair is the same distinctive copper shade as Collins’s, who is right beside them.
My parents follow, with Bash, Scarlett, and Crew bringing up the rear with the bride and groom.
Wren hugs me when she reaches us. “You’re blushing,” she whispers, arms wrapped around my neck.
“I got sunburned earlier.”
“In October? Please.” She pulls back and smiles at Flynn before turning to Sawyer, who’s just made it to the gate too. “I’m cold.”
“If only someone had suggested you bring a coat or sweater when he picked you up,” Sawyer comments in the midst of taking off his suit jacket.
“Weird. All I heard was, ‘How did I wind up with such a stunning girlfriend?’ ”
Sawyer shakes his head as he drapes his jacket across Wren’s shoulders. “You know you are,” he murmurs to her.
Wren beams at him. “Thanks.”
“We’ve got about ten minutes before Dylan crashes.” Kit joins us. “Where are we doing this?”
Wren shrugs. “Ask your mom. Scarlett said she wanted some more casual photos tonight since things will be so crazy tomorrow.”
“More casual?” Sawyer questions, glancing down at what’s left of his suit.
“Nice watch,” Flynn comments, nodding at the shiny Rolex on his wrist.
“Thanks.” Sawyer looks a little embarrassed, but also pleased as he adjusts the face so it’s straight.
Wren mouths, Thank you, at Flynn.
I watch him as he smiles at my sister, then turns to reply to something Kit asked him.
Yep, we’ll be having sex tonight.
“We should head down to the beach. Right, Mom?” Kit asks.
Everyone is gathered by the gate now.
“I think so,” Scarlett answers, lifting a hand to shade her eyes from the sun. “There might be a glare off the water. Where’s”—she glances around—“the photographer?”
“And where’s Dad?” Oliver asks Crew.
“I thought you’d told him to come down here.”
“Nope. I had to talk to the caterers.”
“I’ll go get Grandpa,” Lili decides. “And the photographer.”
“And some snacks?” Kit calls after her. “For Dylan, not me.”
“You’ll eat some,” Collins says.
Kit grins. “Duh. That’s the best part of parenthood.”
Collins’s eyebrows rise.
“One of the best parts, I meant.”
Collins shakes her head. “Uh-huh.”
“Let’s get down to the beach,” Mom says. “Charlie, you’ll wait for Lili? Arthur might need help on the path.”
Charlie nods.
“Definitely don’t mention possibly needing assistance to him though,” Crew tells his almost son-in-law.
“Just grab him if he starts to lean a concerning amount,” Kit adds.
“Christopher!” Scarlett admonishes.
“He’s not wrong,” Bash contributes.
“I heard that, Sebastian,” Scarlett says, then opens the gate and starts down the path.
Crew follows her, my parents right behind them. Kit and Collins go next. Dylan insists on walking, so there’s an immediate gap as his short legs make slow progress through the sand.
“I’m tired,” Wren says, jumping on Sawyer’s back.
His jacket slides off of her as she leaps. Flynn walks over to grab it.
Bash glances at me, hands in his pockets. “I figured Flynn was here for Kit—and Lili—but Kit said you guys have been together for a few months?”
I start to correct him, then realize … it has been a few months. This started in July. “Uh, yeah. We have.”
“That’s great, Rory. Happy for you.”
“Thanks.” I smile, but the expression stretches unnaturally.
I can feel the pinch in my cheeks. Not only because I’m lying.
Duplicity is always unpleasant to me. But duplicity about a desired truth?
Especially awful. I want what I’m saying to be true, and that makes the falsehood feel worse. “Anyone special in LA?”
“Everyone in LA thinks they’re special.”
I laugh. “Special to you, I mean.”
“Rory! Bash! Come on!” Wren calls. “Dylan is moving faster than you two.”
“She’s not wrong.” Bash chuckles, seeming relieved about the interruption. He glances ahead at his nephew. “I can’t believe how big he is. Or that there will be two soon.”
We catch up with the rest of the group, emerging on the beach.
Scarlett and Mom are discussing different spots to stand, pulling out their phones to snap photos of each other from different angles.
By the time Lili and Charlie reappear with a woman holding a camera and my grandfather, they’ve decided where we’re supposed to stand.
“In the center, Arthur,” Scarlett instructs.
He harrumphs but moves to where she indicated without any argument.
“Crew, on your dad’s left. Oliver, on the right. Hannah, you—perfect. Okay, kids. Lili, in front of Dad. Charlie, you too. Then Kit and Dylan. Collins, you’re next. Bash at the end. Rory, in front of your dad.”
I walk ahead. Halfway, I abandon my heels, letting my bare feet sink into the sand instead.
“Flynn, you’re—Flynn?” Scarlett turns around, searching for him.
Flynn and Sawyer are hovering behind the photographer, both jacket-less since Wren and I are wearing them.
“It’s a family photo,” Flynn calls. “We can jump in a few later if you want.”
Sawyer nods in agreement.
Scarlett glances at Mom, then at me.
I’m not sure what to say. This potential awkwardness didn’t occur to me in advance.
We’re not engaged, like Lili and Charlie.
We don’t have kids together, like Kit and Collins.
We’re not even actually dating. These photos will be a permanent record of the eve of Lili’s wedding—her last night as a Kensington.
I want Flynn’s presence to be a part of it, and I don’t allow myself to overthink why.
“Jump in now.”
Flynn’s eyes fly to mine, his gaze intense as he scans my expression. He’s hesitating, and I can’t tell why. He doesn’t want to be included? He’s remembering we’re pretending?
“You too, Cap,” Wren says as she walks toward me. “Our side is looking a little sparse.”
She’s not wrong. There are five in the opposite row, only two of us.
“If raising you hadn’t taken all of our time, energy, and sanity, we might have had a third child,” Dad tells Wren.
“That’d better not be part of my graduation party speech,” she retorts, wrapping an arm around Sawyer as he reaches her. “Rory’s was ten minutes of how parenthood is a magical experience.”
Flynn appears uncharacteristically unsure as he steps into the open spot between me and Wren.
“Sure this is okay?” he asks by my ear, low enough for none of my family to hear.
I wrap my arm around his waist. “Yes.”
“Okay, that’s everyone?” the photographer calls.
“That’s everyone,” Crew confirms. “Aside from Ben and Jerry.”
The photographer frowns, confused by the mention of my aunt and uncle’s beagles. “Should I wait—”
“He’s kidding,” Scarlett says. “We’re all here.”
“We should have brought Finch,” Flynn whispers to me.
I’m smiling long before the photographer tells us to.