Chapter 45
The phone rings while I’m reading through the police report for a knife fight we’re intending to argue was self-defense. I close the folder and pick up my phone.
“Rory Kensington.”
“There’s a man here, requesting to see you, Ms. Kensington. He says his name is Julian Parks.”
“I’ll be right there,” I say, hanging up the phone and closing the folder. I grab my trench coat, phone, and ID badge, pulling the coat on as I walk toward the lobby and sliding the items into the pockets.
Julian is waiting just inside the main doors, looking outside at the busy street. His profile is eerily similar to Flynn’s.
He glances over at the sound of my heels hitting the marble floor, a tentative smile appearing. “Good morning.”
“Morning, Mr. Parks.”
“Julian, please.”
I tie the belt on my coat, ensuring the knot is tight. “What can I do for you, Julian?”
“I apologize for showing up at your place of work, but I”—he clears his throat—“wasn’t sure where else to find you.”
“Philippa has my number.”
“My wife doesn’t know I’m here. We’re … can I buy you a coffee?”
“I’ve already had two cups.” Side effect of a sleepless night spent waiting to hear Flynn come home, then listening to him get ready for bed, then wishing he were in mine.
“Any more caffeine, and I’ll get jittery.
But I have”—I check my watch—“twenty minutes until my next meeting, if you want to take a quick walk?”
Relief washes over Julian’s features. It’s not until I see it that I realize he took my first two sentences as a rejection. The glimpse of emotion humanizes him some.
“I’d appreciate that, if you have the time.” He holds the door open, waiting for me to walk out first.
The fall air is crisp and brisk, almost chilly enough to merit a warmer coat. My winter clothes are stored in the closet in Flynn’s bedroom, so I’ll probably wait until after he’s moved out to swap my wardrobe.
“Beautiful building,” Julian comments as we walk along the sidewalk.
“It used to be a bank,” I tell him. “We use the vault as a file room now.”
He hums. “Did you always intend to become a public defender?”
“Not necessarily. I’ve always known I wanted to be an attorney.
I have an … inclination toward the law. I like rules.
I like the clear classification of right and wrong.
I was born with a lot of advantages. Doing something that improved people’s lives, where I could see some impact I was making, that was most important to me. Working here felt like the right fit.”
We reach Tweed Courthouse at the end of the block.
Julian stares at the stately building. “Built in the Italianate style with Romanesque Revival interiors.”
I glance at him, surprised. “You’re interested in architecture?”
“In another life, I would have studied it as more than an amateur. Things worked out differently. Better mostly, but different than I expected.”
“My mom is an architect.”
He half smiles. “I know. I’ve always admired your family. It’s rare to achieve the level of success your grandfather did. Even rarer for subsequent generations to be as determined to achieve.”
“I agree. But I don’t think it’s something you need to admire about my family when yours is the same way.”
Julian inclines his chin. “You’re referring to Flynn?”
“Unless you have other children I don’t know about.”
There’s a brief flash of amusement on his face. “Just the one son. Who isn’t currently speaking to me.”
I say nothing. I assumed Flynn took his father reneging on their deal poorly, but I didn’t realize it meant they weren’t communicating at all.
“I suppose your silence means you support that decision?”
“I support Flynn, yes. That’s what you’re meant to do for the people you love, not manipulate them to get what you want.”
Julian’s eyes drop to my bare left hand. “I heard you announced your engagement.”
“Yes.”
That solves the mystery of why he’s here, I guess. Because he approves? Disapproves? Cares? Doesn’t care? I can’t tell.
He sinks down onto one of the benches in front of the courthouse. I remain standing, slipping my hands into my pockets, watching some brown leaves blow closer to the courthouse when a yellow taxi zips by.
“I do love my son, Rory. That’s why I push him.
Everything I’ve manipulated has been to benefit Flynn.
To encourage him to be the person I knew he was capable of becoming.
Do you think Flynn would have gone to law school if I hadn’t intervened?
Look at him now. Graduated summa cum laude, selected an early start, and signed a major client his second month on the job. ”
I’m careful to keep my expression blank, pretending I knew all that. “You might have pushed him, but Flynn was the one who accomplished all those things. He deserves the credit.”
“I withheld his trust fund so he’d go to law school. Did he tell you that?”
I nod.
“I did it again, after he graduated. Did he tell you that?”
I nod again.
“Did he share what the new condition was?”
“We’re honest with each other.”
A laughable statement, in general, but true in reference to what Julian is asking.
I don’t agree with his decision to dangle Flynn’s trust fund over him like a prize, yet I also recognize that the last few months would have looked very different if he hadn’t.
I can’t fully resent what he did, not when it resulted in me falling in love for the first time.
I’ll never regret getting to experience it at least once, no matter how much heartbreak accompanies the feeling.
“I’m sorry for implying otherwise. That wasn’t my intention.”
“You should apologize to Flynn, Julian. Not me.”
His father appears confused. “For what?”
“For changing the terms again.”
“I didn’t change any terms, Rory. Flynn told me he was finished with me, that he didn’t want the money, and he hasn’t spoken to me since.”
“But—” My head is spinning.
Julian stands, buttoning his wool coat. “That was all I needed to know.”
“You—what?”
“Flynn’s potential is important to me. But so is his happiness. I was concerned he’d proposed for a certain purpose, and now I know that wasn’t the case. Thank you for taking the time to speak to me, Rory.”
Julian heads for a parked town car without waiting for a reply.
Leaving me to try and make sense of what he understood that I seem to be missing.