Page 2 of Gold Rush

I could have insisted the guest list be more limited, but I didn’t want to disappoint everyone.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that.” Sawyer reaches for his glass, taking a sip, then tugs at the collar of his button-down. “ ‘Prosecutors, beware’—that means you’re doing defense work?”

I nod. “I’ll be working in the Manhattan Public Defender’s office.”

“That’s awesome,” he says, sounding genuine. “My-my dad was a cop, so I know a little about … it’s a tough job.”

“Can be,” I agree.

“Uh, speaking of legal matters, I know you … I know that you did me a favor a few summers back. That Wren asked you for one.”

“Asked?” I roll the stem of my champagne glass between two fingers. “It was more of a demand.”

Sawyer appears unsurprised by the correction. Wren has only shared bits and pieces of their relationship with me, but I know she met him years ago, back in high school. He knows her well, it seems. My sister never accepts no as a final answer unless that’s the one she wanted.

“Right. Well, thank you. I did not ask Wren to get involved, but I should have predicted she’d—” He huffs, and I suppress a grin. “Thank you. Truly.”

I’m taken aback—touched—by his genuineness. I wasn’t expecting him to ever mention the favor, let alone tell me how much he appreciated it.

“You’re welcome,” I reply. “It was no big deal.”

“It was a big deal to me.” He clears his throat, still appearing slightly uncomfortable. “I also realize that means you know why I needed a lawyer⁠—”

I lean forward, lowering my voice. “Sawyer, you don’t owe me anything. I’d do a lot more than call an old mentor to make my sister happy.”

“I just want you to know it won’t be happening again. I made a lot of mistakes when I was younger, and I’ve learned those lessons. I’d never let Wren be affected by any of that. I just—I needed you to know that.”

Again, I’m struck by his sincerity. How many fake, opportunistic people am I acquainted with that the most meaningful conversation—aside from with my family—I’ve had at an event attended by nearly everyone I’ve ever known is with a virtual stranger?

“I wasn’t worried,” I assure him. “Wren is an excellent judge of character, and she obviously adores you. That’s good enough—more than enough—for me.”

Sawyer smiles. “Thanks, Rory.”

I’m not sure why he cares about my approval. I assumed he’d be more focused on acquiring my parents’ support. But it’s flattering that he seems to.

Saying I’m the afterthought in my family sounds pathetic, but there’s some truth to it. I’m less outgoing than my sister or my cousins, and most people interpret the shyness or uncertainty as standoffishness.

“Boy, did you get a big haul.” Wren plops back into her former seat next to Sawyer, face flushed as she holds a gold-colored gift bag out to me. “Took me forever to find this. Oh”—she quickly glances between me and Sawyer—“did you guys have a chance to meet earlier? Rory, this is Sawyer, my boyfriend.”

Sawyer mouths the word boyfriend at her, and Wren’s cheeks flush from pink to red.

“And, Sawyer, this is my sister, Rory.”

“We met,” I say, smiling at them.

I attempt to ignore the wistful pang in my chest. A sensation like the one I sometimes get when looking at my parents. They’ve been married for almost thirty years, and yesterday, I walked in on them kissing in the kitchen like teenagers.

Lili is engaged. Kit has started his own family. My older cousins made settling down appear effortless, and now Wren seems to be doing the same.

I glance at the empty chair to my left. The cushion suddenly moves, pulled away and then disappearing under a set of navy slacks. I stare, suffused with relief. He came⁠—

“What’d you get, Florence?”

My gaze snaps up, spine stiffening simultaneously. Not only am I disappointed Carson didn’t skip his family commitment after all, but I’m instantly irritated by the arrogant drawl. Also flustered by his use of my full first name and the realization of where, on who, my eyes were just lingering.

Flynn’s arm brushes mine as he leans over to glance inside the gift bag from Wren. We’re both wearing sleeves—me a cardigan over my dress and him a suit jacket—but I feel the contact anyway.

He hums. “Nice,” he comments, giving Wren a thumbs-up.