Page 120 of Gold Rush

Which … I should have.

I didn’t want to be another responsibility for her to have to handle. Making Rory leave work in the middle of the day felt like another instance in which I would be benefiting from us more than she was. The accident wasn’t my fault. There was nothing I could have done to prevent it. The other driver wasn’t paying attention and floored it right as our car was pulling out. What I could control was not bothering her.

I think Rory took me not calling the wrong way. She definitely took me feigning amnesia the wrong way. I hadn’t thought she’d take me seriously. I’d thought she’d immediately call out my subpar acting skills, not stand there with the blood slowly draining from her face. She cried, for fuck’s sake.

I still haven’t told her I told my dad to fuck off, which I also feel guilty about. Technically, that means I’m the one getting less out of this, but it’s also the main reason we agreed to do this. She thinks she’s helping me, and the truth is, we’re pretending only to pretend at this point. And I’m not even sure how much is pretend.

I check the clock again. Seven fifteen now.

I reach down, grabbing one of Finch’s catnip toys off the rug and tossing it toward her cat condo. She opens one eye, then closes it again.

“We should have adopted a dog,” I tell her. “They’re more interactive.”

She continues sleeping, unbothered by the insult.

We. Rory found Finch, so she’ll keep her after we stop living together. She’s not my cat. But I’ve grown unexpectedly attached to the sharp-clawed terror, whose fur now lies sleek and straight. Finch tolerates being brushed, although she acts like it’s an incredible inconvenience. I think the fancy food Rory gets delivered each week deserves more credit for her coat’s transformation.

My phone buzzes on the coffee table. I reach for it instantly, thrilled to have a distraction. The firm insisted I stay home today, and I was supposed to avoid looking at screens for twenty-four hours, so I’ve been bored out of my mind all day. I rearranged the fridge, worked out, did two loads of laundry, changed all the batteries in the smoke alarms, cleaned the bathrooms, and then cheated for twenty minutes and checked some apartment listings on my laptop.

Lili’s wedding is the first weekend of October. I don’t want to upend things just prior to that, so I should be planning to move out November 1.

I answer the phone.

“Hey. How’s the head?” a familiar voice asks.

“Who is this?”

Kit sighs. “It’s Kit.”

“Weird name. You must have the wrong number.”

“Clearly, you’re feeling fine,” Kit says dryly.

I exhale. “Yeah. Just bored out of my fucking mind.”

“At least you’re not being dramatic about it.”

“Wanna come over? I can’t watch TV or drink, but we could play cards and have soda?”

“I can’t, man. Collins isn’t feeling well, and I’ve got to keep an eye on Dylan. If I bring him to you, I’ll have to bring a shit ton of toddler stuff, and by the time I haul it all over there, it’s going to be his bedtime.”

“No worries. I get it.”

A pause before Kit asks, “Rory can’t entertain you?”

“She’s still at work.”

“Damn, I thought my days were long. You guys should both come work at the company. Better hours.”

“Rory would never go for that. She wants to make a difference, not make you richer. No offense.”

Kit chuckles. “None taken. I’m glad you’re fine, just bored. Speaking of Kensington Consolidated, I wanted to give you a heads-up: Arthur is onto you.”

“Onto me?”

“He was the only person who hadn’t heard about you and Rory. She’s basically the one grandchild who’s never disappointed him. He really doesn’t like Sawyer, apparently, and even Charlie has never fully passed muster. He’s pretty unimpressed by Charlie’s dad losing most of their money, but I think he’s come around now that there’s a wedding. You were fine as my best friend, but he’s going to grill you at the wedding now that he knows you’re dating her.”

“I—what? How did he find out?”