Page 139 of Gold Rush

“Talk about what?”

He smiles. “You’re too smart to play dumb, Rory.”

“I’m fine, Bash. Just tired. It’s been a busy weekend.”

“Okay, I’ll go first. I came all this way for Lili’s wedding, obviously. But also because I thought it’d be a chance at …” Bash sighs. “She didn’t even show up. And she knew I wouldn’t miss this. I haven’t seen her since high school, and I thought this would be—I don’t know what I thought. She didn’t, clearly.” He rolls his head left to look at me. “Flynn is here, Rory. And he’s clearly crazy about you. Whatever happened, talk to him. It’ll work out.”

“That’s optimistic if you⁠—”

“Just got stood up?” Bash finishes. “Yeah. I’m a romantic, I guess.”

I exhale. “I’m a realist.”

Flynn calls a third time.

Bash glances pointedly at the screen. “He’s not blowing up your phone because he doesn’t give a shit.” He pops the door open, swinging one leg out.

“Bash.”

He glances back. “Yeah?”

“Thanks. And … I’m sorry. About her not coming.”

My youngest cousin nods. We share a smile before Bash heads inside.

I slump back against my seat and pick up my phone.

Rory: Woke up early and came over to help with brunch. Are you good to get here yourself?

The indication he’s typing appears and disappears twice before his reply comes through.

Flynn: Sure.

Just to make myself feel worse, I scroll back through the history of our past messages. They’re full of exclamation points and puns and emojis. Anyone reading these would believe we were a couple.

I leave my phone on the seat and climb out of Flynn’s car. It’s turning into another beautiful day. Crisp and cool. The sunshine and blue skies should elevate my mood. Instead, I feel like the weather is mocking me. What do I have to complain about? I’m mourning something—someone—I never really had. The sense of loss is pointless and ridiculous.

Rather than head straight inside, I walk down to the beach again. It’s cooler by the water, like always, wind whipping my loose hair around my head and into a snarl of blonde strands. I wrap my arms around my waist, watching the waves recede, then wash back ashore.

“You look like a siren.”

I turn. “Excuse me?”

Knox smiles. “I took a Greek mythology course at Princeton. You reminded me of a siren, standing out here, luring sailors to shore.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Not a good one, obviously.” Knox stops beside me. “But, yes, it was. I’m better at flirting when I’m not hungover.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“I’m here alone, by the way. No Carson this time.”

I shrug a shoulder. “Don’t care.”

“You’re either an excellent liar or you’re entirely over it.”

“I can’t be both?”