Chapter 48
Six Months Later
An audible hush falls over the audience when Flynn appears onstage, wearing a perfectly tailored tuxedo.
I know he was up half the night, rehearsing his speech like an opening argument, but you’d never know he was nervous, looking at him now.
He strides toward the lectern that’s been set up with clear purpose, The Penn Ashbury Foundation prominently displayed in black block letters on the screen behind the stage.
I glance at Penn’s parents, who are seated across from me. Nora is discreetly dabbing at her eyes. Byron has an arm resting across the back of his wife’s chair. He was smiling earlier, discussing the craftsmanship of the seats, but his expression is stoic now.
Most of us are here celebrating Flynn’s accomplishment and backing a worthy cause. Nora and Byron are here to witness their son’s legacy—an organization that will save lives, but can’t bring Penn back.
“Good evening, everyone.” Flynn’s deep voice echoes across the quiet audience. “This night has been a long time coming, and I truly appreciate all of you being here to support the inception of The Penn Ashbury Foundation.”
He pauses, letting the applause fill the cavernous ballroom for a moment.
The loudest clapping is coming from my left, where Julian and Philippa are seated.
Philippa assisted with a lot of the planning for tonight, and Julian wrote a large check toward the foundation’s efforts.
I hope they’re aware that them being here, listening, is the best gift they could have given Flynn.
“Some of you here knew Penn personally. Some of you have lost loved ones to the same struggle he faced.” Flynn glances at Lloyd Clarke, who’s seated at one of the other front tables, wearing a similar expression to the Ashburys. “Tonight is about more than raising money, although please donate.”
A wave of laughter washes through the room.
“Tonight is about honoring a life and about protecting others. As many of you know, the motivation behind this foundation is its namesake—Penn Ashbury. Penn had this incredible ability to make every situation seem manageable. If he did poorly on an exam, he’d say, ‘Well, now I know what not to do next time.’ If plans changed at the last minute, he’d say, ‘We’ll figure it out.
’ And yet he encountered a situation he couldn’t learn from or fix.
A disease with no cure, stigmatized by shame and shrouded by secrecy.
“The aim of this organization isn’t to assume no one will wind up in that situation.
College is often described as a time of discovery and opportunity, but it also includes tremendous pressure, loneliness, anxiety, and uncertainty.
Many students struggle silently. Some turn to substances to cope, to fit in, or simply because they don’t realize the potential risks of doing so.
A single decision can alter their life—affect countless lives forever.
I can’t—” For the first time, Flynn’s voice wavers.
“I can’t change what happened to Penn, but I can try to change other futures.
The Penn Ashbury Foundation is committed to giving students the knowledge, resources, and support they need before and if a crisis occurs.
By being here tonight, you’re a crucial part of that mission. So, thank you.”
More applause.
Flynn waits for it to die down. He’s close to the end of his speech, but I know the final paragraphs will be the hardest for him to get through.
“Before I let you all enjoy dessert, there are a few important people I’m especially indebted to.
“First, Penn’s parents, Nora and Byron. We met as strangers.
The second time we spoke was at your son’s funeral.
I’m not a parent. I can’t fathom the immensity of that loss.
Yet, in the midst of your own grief, you never blamed me.
Never judged me for failing to help Penn.
You welcomed me into your home, into your family, and let me mourn with you.
Nothing will ever do Penn’s memory justice, but I hope this foundation is a legacy he and you are proud of.
“Lloyd Clarke and Oliver Kensington, who were instrumental in the logistics of creating this foundation, I am so appreciative of your time, effort, and generosity. I will be the first to admit, I had no idea what I was doing when I started this process, and the credit for this organization’s existence is something I share with both of you. Lloyd, I wish August were here tonight.
“My parents, Philippa and Julian Parks.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch them both sit straighter in their chairs. They didn’t read Flynn’s speech ahead of time, like I did, and I’m guessing they weren’t expecting to be mentioned in it.
“We’ve had our fair share of disagreements. About, well, pretty much everything.”
Another ripple of laughter.
“But I have never had any doubt that you would come through when I needed you. When I asked you to be a part of this, you didn’t hesitate. And it’s much easier, in retrospect, to recognize how parents are acting in your best interest when, in the moment, it seems like overstepping.”
More laughs.
“I would have never met Penn if not for you insisting I start college that fall instead of taking the gap-year trip I heavily advocated for. There’s a lot in my life now that wouldn’t exist if not for that interference, and I’m extremely grateful for that.”
Flynn pauses.
“Rory—”
I go stiff with shock. The many versions of this speech I read never mentioned me, and I never expected them to. This is Flynn’s moment. His accomplishment.
“I could have created this foundation when I was single. The plan and the purpose and the paperwork—I had all that in place. But, like every other aspect of my life, you enhanced it. Each draft of this speech you read, each building you toured to find the right office space, each time I felt overwhelmed by the process … you made it all better. You make me better.”
I don’t realize silent tears are streaking down my cheeks until Philippa passes me a tissue. Her own smile looks a little watery, I notice. My parents are beaming at a table to the right.
“Tonight might have happened without you,” Flynn continues.
“But the cake wouldn’t get served on time, and this speech would have sucked, and I wouldn’t get to stand up here and say that this foundation is my second-greatest accomplishment.
Because the first will always be convincing you to spend your life with me. I love you.”
I love you too, I mouth.
I’m not sure if he can see me with all the lights beaming toward the stage, but he smiles like he can.
“Everyone, thank you for coming. Together, we can transform loss into purpose, remembrance into action, and resources into lives changed. Enjoy the rest of the evening.”
I’m talking to Perry and Macie when Collins taps me on the shoulder. After saying hi to her former colleagues, who head to the bar for refills, she gives me a weary smile.
“Kit and I are headed out.”
“Thank you so much for coming,” I say, giving her the tightest hug I can manage.
“We wouldn’t have missed it,” Collins says, wincing as she rubs her extremely round stomach. “I just wish BK had agreed to eviction a little sooner so that I could have attended without looking like a bloated watermelon. And drink more than a sip of champagne.”
Collins is a week past her due date. BK—Baby Kensington—could literally arrive at any moment.
“Almost there,” I say sympathetically.
“Yeah.” She sighs. “It doesn’t help that Dylan came early. I was prepared to be ready early this time, so of course I’m into the tenth month!”
“Is BK being late bothering you?” Kit appears, kissing Collins’s temple. “I haven’t really noticed.”
She gives him a half-exasperated, half-amused look. “No, I adore being heavily pregnant.”
Kit grins. “Home stretch, Monty.” He kisses her again, then hugs me. Glances around the ballroom. “He really did the damn thing, huh?”
“Of course he did.”
“He was looking for you, by the way.”
“He was?” I scan the room again, not spotting him anywhere.
I haven’t seen Flynn since his speech. Dessert was served, and the band resumed playing, and no one has seemed to be in a rush to leave. It’s nearly eleven, and the ballroom is still packed. Flynn has a lot of friends.
“Yep.” Kit nods. “There I was, his best friend of almost twenty years, full of admiration about his philanthropic endeavors and his heart-warming speech”—Collins rolls her eyes—“and his first question was, ‘Have you seen Rory?’ ”
“It was a great speech,” Collins adds.
I’m nodding in agreement when I finally see him.
Flynn is standing by the stage, a large group huddled around him, listening raptly. I probably know most of them, but I don’t identify a single person. I’m too focused on him.
“Now we’re really leaving,” Kit states. “Super, super happy for you guys, but I was sort of hoping we were toward the end of the honeymoon phase.”
“I think it’s cute,” Collins says.
“Because you’re not related to either one of them,” Kit replies. “Would watching Jane make out with a friend of yours be cute?”
“Okay, I see your point,” she concedes when Kit mentions her younger sister. “And we are really leaving because my water just broke.”
“What?” Kit yelps. He glances around wildly. “Where’s there—can we—are you—” He cuts off when he spots Collins’s smirk, then looks down at the suspiciously dry hardwood floor. He exhales shakily, raking a hand through his hair. “That was not fucking funny, Monty.”
“I thought it was,” she says, then glances at me. “Rory?”
Kit’s attention swings my way, so I quickly wipe the smile off my face. “Somewhat amusing.”
My cousin scowls.
“It was for your own good,” Collins comments, taking his hand. “You’ll freak out less when it really happens.”
“I doubt that,” Kit says dryly.
He and Collins hug me goodbye, then depart. The next time I see them, they’ll have two kids, which is a crazy concept.
I start to make my way toward where Flynn is still standing, stopping and getting pulled into a few conversations. I catch up with Naomi, then chat with Philippa for a few minutes, finalizing plans for dinner later this week.
Four days after Julian showed up at my office, Flynn told me his father had released his full trust fund. That weekend, he drove to his parents’ and had a long conversation with his dad. Their relationship isn’t fully repaired, but it’s in a better place than it was last year.
I’m talking to Fran and Mallory, filling them in on the trip we took to visit Lili and Charlie around the holidays, when they both suddenly smile.
Strong arms wrap around me from behind. I relax instantly, inhaling his cologne.
“Hey, ladies,” Flynn greets. “Thanks for coming. Mind if I consult with my attorney for a minute?”
Mallory titters. “Of course not.”
“Bye, guys,” Fran says before walking off as well.
I pull away from Flynn so I can face him. Adjust his tie before meeting his gaze. “I prefer when you call me your fiancée.”
The corners of his eyes crinkle as he grabs my left hand, planting a kiss next to the diamond ring I’m wearing. “Oh, I know how much you love when I call you my fiancée, Florence. But consulting with my attorney sounded more urgent, and I’m maxed out on small talk. Dance with me?”
I nod.
Flynn keeps ahold of my hand, leading me toward a far corner of the room, close to the stage, where the band is performing. He stops in an open section, tugging me close so we’re more swaying than managing anything imitating a waltz.
“I liked your speech.”
“Duh. You edited it.”
“You never let me see my favorite part.”
“Baby, that was nothing. Wait until you hear my vows.”
Flynn and I haven’t started planning our wedding. We’ve been enjoying this phase of our lives, focusing on our careers and spending time with each other.
I had a vision of what my life after law school would be.
Receiving the bar exam results and learning I passed.
Winning my first case. I thought I knew what those moments would be like, how they’d feel while they were happening, and I didn’t.
They’re so much richer because of Flynn.
Because we got to celebrate both passing together.
Because he listened to me practice my first closing statement for hours without complaining once.
Because there have been so many special moments entirely unrelated to work, like him giving me the ring I’m wearing in our living room with Finch as our witness.
“I want to hear your vows soon,” I tell him.
His eyes light up. “How soon?”
“As soon as we can plan a huge wedding while both working hundred-hour weeks.”
“Are you sure about the size? Because I really don’t—”
“You do. And so do I. I want it to be big and extravagant and lavish. Because it’s the only time I intend to get married. Because I’m so proud to be marrying you. And because, I’m not sure if you’ve heard … I’m a billionaire.”
Flynn grins. “It’s so hot when you brag about how much more money you have. Makes me feel super masculine and necessary.”
“It’s so hot that you don’t care how much money I have.”
“Well, obviously, I’m marrying you for your culinary skills. I’m not sure why anyone who’s eaten your oatmeal would think otherwise.”
“I hate you.”
He smirks. “Yeah, I know. Turns me on.” I feel his lips brush my hair before he adds, “And makes me fall in love with you all over again.”