I feel like I lost something, which is absurd. I never had him to begin with.
“Here.” Flynn has returned, and he’s holding a full glass of champagne out to me. “Waiters aren’t serving back here.”
I manage a wobbly smile before accepting the drink. I gulp the contents in one go, the bubbles burning my throat.
“She’sseventeen,” Rory hisses.
“And already a pro,” Flynn says, taking the empty glass from me.
“You are so immature. And irresponsible.”
“Let me guess. You downed Shirley Temples to take the edge off in high school?”
“Of courseyouwould think teenage drinking is some sort of accomplishment?—”
“Is there more champagne?” I ask, avoiding Rory’s reproachful expression.
Usually, I enjoy listening to her bicker with Flynn since Rory rarely talks back to anyone. But alcohol will cheer me up more than their arguing.
“Tons,” Flynn replies cheerfully. “Kit’s party planner ordered about a hundred cases. But before you get drunk”—he crouches down next to Rory—“what happened?”
I blow out a long breath. “Bad night.”
Rory shifts closer, away from Flynn. “Are you … okay? Should I call Mom? Or … someone else?”
She means Dr. Hurts, but is considerate enough not to mention my therapist by name in front of Flynn.
“No. I’m not—I’ll be fine.” I sigh again, attempting to focus on the warm buzz of alcohol settling in my empty stomach instead of the sharp ache in my chest. “You were … you were right.”
“Happens to broken clocks twice a day,” Flynn comments.
My lips twitch in response.
“Shut up, Parks,” Rory snaps. “I know it’s a foreign concept, but not every situation requires your idiotic commentary.”
“Shutting up.” Flynn shifts, moving to the spot on my other side.
We would look ridiculous to anyone who walked into the laundry room now, reclined on the floor, but I’m still too heartbroken to care about appearances. Plus, we’re about as removed from the party as possible.I doubt anyone else is going to wander in here.
“What was I right about?” Rory asks softly.
“That it wouldn’t end well with him.”
It takes her a minute. “Oh. This is about Marina Guy?”
“Who is Marina Guy?” Flynn wonders.
“Go get more champagne,” Rory instructs him.
“Oh,nowyou support underage drinking?”
“Justgo, Parks.”
Flynn sighs, lumbering to his feet.
As soon as the door shuts, Rory spins so she’s facing me. “Two glasses—that’s it, okay?”
I’m not sure it’s a promise I’ll keep since oblivion sounds pretty great right now, but I agree. “Okay.”
