Page 57 of Anti-Hero (Kensingtons: The Next Generation #2)

F lynn’s standing between the elevator bank and Maya’s desk, laughing with Asher, when I leave for the day.

“Hey, Kit,” Asher greets, his standard smile still in place.

Asher Cotes has been my dad’s best friend for as long as I can remember.

For longer than I’ve been alive. He’s my dad’s Flynn, I guess.

Asher and his family were at the Thanksgiving gathering my parents hosted, but I haven’t seen him around the office as much as I expected to.

His role at the company is focused on Kensington Consolidated’s international interests and involves a fair amount of travel as a result.

“Hey, Asher,” I reply, accepting his offered hand and slap on the back. “Haven’t seen you around much.”

Asher nods somberly. “I try to remain a man of mystery. Although not as much as you, from what I hear.”

“You mean, the secret baby?” Flynn asks. “How did you find out? Because my best friend waited five months to casually tell me at a bar, ‘I’ll have a kid pretty soon, so we won’t get to do this as often.’”

I grimace. I blew baby announcements all around.

Asher laughs. “I found out from my best friend at six a.m.—I was in Shanghai—freaking the fuck out about a box he had seen.”

I sigh. “I was going to tell him.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m not sure anything was going to cushion that surprise,” Asher says. “Nice talking to you, Flynn. I’m home for the next couple of weeks, so I’ll stop by your office soon, Kit. Catch up more.”

“Sounds great,” I reply. “See you then.”

“Good talking to you too, Asher,” Flynn says.

Asher heads for his office.

I continue toward the elevators, Flynn falling into step beside me.

“I was on time,” I tell my best friend.

Flynn’s lips quirk. “I noticed.”

“I thought we were meeting at the bar.”

We reach the elevators, so I press the Down button.

“We were,” he agrees. “But I wanted to see if your new assistant is as hot as your old one.”

I scowl as we step inside the elevator and start to descend.

“Relax. I’m kidding. Well, not about Collins being hot. That part is?—”

“Are you trying to piss me off?”

Flynn blows out a long breath. “I’m bored, okay? All I had to do today was meet you, so I was early.”

We’re both silent for a minute. A silence exacerbated by the enclosed space.

“I’m really sorry, Flynn,” I say. “I know I’ve been a shitty friend lately. There’s just been … I’ve had a lot going on.”

I’m sure Flynn expected this year to be a continuation of the summer.

Us living in the city, partying on the weekends, and taking trips whenever we felt like it.

We were each other’s wingman, sidekick, and comrade …

until I got a new partner. And I’ve been so preoccupied with everything else that I haven’t taken the time to look at things from Flynn’s perspective.

This is only the second time we’ve hung out since I told him about Collins and the baby.

“It’s fine. Don’t apologize. I get it.”

“I am apologizing, man. Seriously. I’ve sucked lately as a friend, and I’m sorry.”

“We’re cool, Kit,” he insists.

“Should I text Camden?” I ask. “Or did you drive?”

“I walked,” Flynn tells me.

I stare at him. “For real?”

Flynn lives on the Upper West Side. About thirty blocks from here.

He shrugs a shoulder. “I told you, I had some free time.”

I pull out my phone to text Camden. “We need to get drinks somewhere with decent food. I worked through lunch, so I’m starving.”

In a very nonchalant, very non-Flynn manner, he tells me, “I’m good with whatever.”

“Rino’s?” I suggest, referring to his favorite hole-in-the-wall pizza place .

“That’s for takeout. Nowhere to sit and eat.”

“We can get takeout and bring it back to my place?” I suggest. “I’ve got plenty of booze there.”

“Isn’t that a non–bachelor pad now?”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t eat pizza and drink scotch. Plus, Collins is going out to dinner with Lili and some other friends tonight. She won’t be home until later.”

“Okay,” Flynn agrees, but it’s still lacking his usual enthusiasm.

This is more than me being absent lately. Something else is going on, but I don’t get the chance to press him on it before the town car appears to pick us up.

Thanks to some construction and a pizza detour, it takes twice as long as usual to get home. I thank Camden once we’re finally in the garage, letting him know I’m planning to drive in to work tomorrow.

When I glance back at Flynn, he’s entirely still, staring at the bay where my cars are parked.

“What is that ?”

I sigh, immediately knowing what he’s spotted. “They’re really practical for kids.”

“Kid s , plural? I thought you were only having the one.”

“We are. But I figured, eventually, we’ll probably have another. And even for one, they’re great. Do you have any idea how much stuff babies need? Car seats and strollers and diapers and wipes and?—”

Flynn is staring at me, slowly shaking his head.

“You can watch movies in the back,” I say, which is probably the only feature he’ll appreciate.

Sure enough, he gives the silver minivan a second glance. “Glad it has something going for it.”

I press the button for the elevator with my elbow, balancing the pizza boxes.

“Seen your sweary neighbor lady lately?” Flynn asks.

“I saw Edna this morning actually,” I reply. “She’ll be bummed she missed you.”

He chuckles as we step on the elevator. The smell of oregano, garlic, and cheese fills the confined space immediately, making my stomach rumble.

“Can you hold these?” I ask, passing the pizzas to Flynn once we’re in the hallway of the top floor.

I locate my keys, unlock the door, and hold it open for him.

“Huh,” Flynn says, glancing around the entryway. “It looks the same.”

I laugh. “What did you expect? She’d paint the whole place pink, then toss around some glitter?”

“I dunno. I’ve never lived with a chick before.”

“Here. I got those.” I take the boxes back from Flynn and carry them into the kitchen. “What do you want to drink?”

“Whatever you’re having,” he calls back.

I drop the pizzas on the island and continue to the bar cart in the living room, fixing two glasses of scotch.

When I walk back into the kitchen, Flynn’s standing in front of the fridge. He’s staring either at the playing card that’s still taped to the front or the sonogram hanging next to it.

“Kid looks just like you,” he says, glancing over his shoulder as I approach. “Gray and fuzzy.”

“I’ve gotten that a few times.” I hand him his drink. “Cheers.”

We clink glasses.

I take a sip.

Flynn chugs the contents in one go .

I lift an eyebrow. “Are you going to tell me what’s bugging you now or wait till we’ve had a few of these?” I ask.

He reaches for one of the pizza boxes, flipping it open and pulling a slice out.

“I got into Harvard Law.”

“Congrat—”

“And construction on the new Parks Student Center starts in Cambridge this spring.”

“Oh,” I mutter.

His father’s ultimatum might have been the only reason he applied, but I know how badly Flynn wanted to get into law school on his own merit. Or at least feel like he did.

A donation large enough to fund a new student center? Wipes that out completely.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“It’s fine. I should’ve fucking seen it coming.” He takes a large bite of pizza, chews, and swallows. “Did Rory get in?”

I clear my throat. “Yeah, she did.”

“Figures.”

“You don’t have to go to Harvard, Flynn. Or go to law school at all. Train for a marathon. Go parasailing. Write a book. Do something you want to do.”

Flynn scoffs. “He’ll cut me off.”

“Let him.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re a Kensington. My dad might not be a billionaire, but he has enough to miss. I’m used to being rich. I like being rich, Kit.”

I laugh, and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. My life’s one big joke. ”

“I hate to state the obvious, but you could get a job and support yourself.”

“Doing what ? You know me. I’m good at …”

“Partying and getting laid?”

He tosses his crust toward me. He used to pitch, so it bounces off my chest. “I feel much better now. Thanks for the awesome pep talk.”

“Okay.” I rest my elbows on the marble counter, turning serious. “So, you go to Harvard Law, keep your trust fund, and everyone knows your dad bought your way in. Is that really so bad? Same result.”

“No one’s going to question Rory’s credentials. Or say she’s only there because of her last name.” He glances at me. “ Don’t tell her I said that.”

“You have seriously got to be the only person who doesn’t get along with her.”

“She’s annoying.”

“She’s nice . Try it sometime.”

Flynn rolls his eyes. “You really think I should go?”

“Do you want to go? Setting aside all the shit with your dad?”

He’s silent for a minute, then sighs. “Yeah, I think I do. It’s what I always figured I would do, like you and Kensington Consolidated.”

I smile. “I’ll miss you when you move to Boston.”

“We’ll probably see each other the same amount.

” He sighs. “Sorry. That was a shitty thing to say. I had a bad day, and my dad isn’t answering any of my calls, so I can’t take it out on him.

I think it’s cool that you’re doing the dad thing, and I’m going to be more supportive about it, starting … right now.”

I grin. “Great. Wanna see the nursery?”

Flynn rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, sure?”

When we walk inside, his enthusiasm turns genuine. “Holy shit. This is awesome.”

I glance around proudly. “Nice, right?”

The stars above the crib were added last week. The outer-space mural behind it is perfect. And the rocking chair my dad brought over is in the corner, by the window.

Flynn sprawls out on the rug, studying the ceiling. “I thought you didn’t know what you guys were having.”

I take a seat next to him, tilting my head back and resting on my palms. “We don’t.”

“Doesn’t space seem boy-themed?”

“No. Girls can be astronauts too.”

“I know they can. I just thought maybe you secretly knew what you were having and just weren’t telling anyone.”

“Collins wants it to be a surprise.”

“And you don’t?”

“I’d probably find out,” I allow. “Just because I’m impatient to know. But it’s her call.”

“It’s your kid too.”

“Yeah, but she’s the one who’s having to grow it for nine months and then push it out. She gets final say.”

Flynn considers that. Then agrees, “Yeah, that seems fair.”

“Should I buy a cosmetics company just because I can?” I ask.

“Absolutely,” Flynn replies.

“Damn.” I exhale. “I shouldn’t.”

“Because I said it was a good idea?”

“Pretty much.”

And we both start cracking up, staring up at the ceiling of my kid’s room.