Page 129 of Gold Rush

“Oh. Is your son here too?”

“Ah, no.” He glances down at the table. “August passed away eight years ago.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Lloyd nods. “I appreciate that. You were entirely correct when you said my company means everything to me. I used to have a separate family. Not anymore.”

“Do you still spend time in England?”

“Only for work. Lots of difficult memories there. August was an addict. It was a long road of trying to get treatment before he—until it didn’t matter.”

I nod. “I know how—a friend in college overdosed freshman year. I saw … he’d never used before, and then suddenly, it overtook his whole life. Took his life.”

Lloyd’s nod is knowing, his smile sad. “My son became unrecognizable. It’s not—it’s difficult to explain to someone who hasn’t experienced …” He clears his throat. “I have a sense of how challenging that must have been.”

“I think about it every day.” I reach for my glass, swallowing a sip of scotch.

“I’m even more impressed. You graduated college despite those circumstances. Went to law school.”

I wouldn’t have done either if not for my father. Maybe that’s why Julian has never used the word impressed in relation to me.

“Plenty of people accomplish both despite larger obstacles. But it did affect me. I’m working on a foundation in his memory. To try to help other people—particularly students—dealing with similar struggles.”

“That’s a fantastic idea,” Lloyd says. “What stage are your plans at?”

“I’ve had the idea for a long time. Most of the paperwork is taken care of. It’s mainly the financial aspect that’s holding things up. I was intending to self-fund most operations to start, but that’s a significant investment to pull together.”

“I’m done, Dad.”

I don’t regret saying it. For me. In the grander scheme of what I intended to do with the trust fund that had my name on it? Those hasty words cost me a lot more than the dollar amount in that account.

“Give my office a call next week,” Lloyd says. “I’d love to discuss more details. See if I can assist in some way.”

“I will. Thank you, Lloyd.”

“You’re here on the Kensington side, I presume?”

“Yeah. I’ve been friends with Lili’s brother for a long time. And … I’m dating her cousin.”

There was no need for me to add that last bit. Yet I did anyway.

“That’s wonderful.” Lloyd checks his watch. “I’d better go find the bride and groom and head out. I have an early morning. We’ll talk soon?”

“We will.”

We shake hands again, and then Lloyd disappears into the crowd. I spot Dean caught up in conversation at the bar, so I continue searching the room for Rory. I find her left of the stage, where the band is performing, talking to Charlie’s best man, Finnegan Byrne.

I’m irritated as I approach them, which annoys me. I’m not this guy—unsure and insecure. I panicked last night when I was included in the family photo because no part of that felt pretend. If I’m being entirely honest, that was true long before Scarlett suggested I stand beside Rory. I’m not fighting fake jealousy in response to how the Irish guy is making her laugh—that’s for damn sure.

I’ve basically told Rory I’m disastrous at relationships and that I’ve ruled out having kids. Why would she see me as anything more than a roommate she has sex with? As anyone except a reset between her ex and the guy she’ll actually end up with?

Fig sees me coming, departing with a cheeky wave that makes me like him a little more. And I wonder how green my face is.

Rory turns to see who he was waving at, smiling when she sees me. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I reply, eyes trailing down to the hint of cleavage shown off by her gold dress. Hers is a few shades darker than the matching bridesmaids’ ones. “Want to dance, Florence?”

“Sure.” Her smile is shy and sweet and subtle as she takes my hand. Acting like we’re on a first date, not that I saw her put this dress on after we had sex for an hour this morning.