Chapter 21
The moment we pull into the winery parking lot, my nerves come alive.
I knew this was going to be a bigger event than I had originally imagined, but knowing it and seeing it are two different things.
Cars line the gravel drive. Warm golden lights glow from the building ahead, reflecting softly off the windows and illuminating the clusters of people gathering near the entrance.
I smooth my hands down my dress before I even step out.
“Ready?” Finn asks as he comes around to open my door.
I nod, even though I’m not sure that’s true.
The second we start walking toward the entrance, I feel it—the awareness. The quiet shift of attention, heads turning.
Maybe it’s the dress, the way it moves around my legs when I walk. Maybe it’s because I’m new in town and everyone here already knows everyone else. Or maybe —and far more likely—it’s the man beside me.
Because if there were a photo next to the word handsome in the dictionary, it would absolutely be Finn O’Donoghue tonight.
His dress blues are perfectly pressed, sharp lines and polished buttons catching the warm light.
Medals and ribbons sit neatly across his chest, every one of them precise, intentional—a story told without words.
The dark fabric tailored specifically for his body, broad shoulders softened only slightly by the easy confidence he wears like a second uniform.
His hair is freshly trimmed beneath the pristine white dress cap, his face clean-shaven, and his eyes carry that familiar mischievous glint that makes every woman within range collectively swoon.
Including me.
He offers me his arm, and I take it. Holding on for dear life, I let him guide me inside.
The room hums with conversation the moment we enter.
Twinkling lights are strung across the exposed beams above us, casting a soft glow over everything—polished wine glasses catching the light, fresh flowers arranged at the center of every table, the scent of roses and eucalyptus mixing with oak barrels and red wine.
Servers weave through the crowd, balancing trays with appetizers, laughter rising and blending into the soft music playing somewhere near the back.
Somehow, in less than five minutes, Finn introduces me to what feels like half the room.
Hands shake mine. Names blur together. Smiles come easily enough, even if I feel slightly untethered inside my own skin.
Finally, we make our way to our table.
Relief washes over me when I spot two name cards waiting beside each other. Mine sits neatly beside his, printed in elegant script.
Finn pulls out my chair, and just as I lower myself into it, someone approaches.
“García,” Finn exclaims with a grin, standing to shake the man’s hand.
“O’Donoghue,” the man answers warmly. “How are you?”
He’s handsome with dark hair, strong brows, warm brown eyes, and like Finn, he’s wearing dress blues that fit him with the same effortless precision.
“Sergeant García, this is May,” Finn says, turning toward me.
The man offers his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, miss.”
“Nice to meet you.” I smile politely as we shake.
Before the conversation can go any further, a striking woman joins us, slipping easily into the space beside him.
“This is my wife, Natalia,” García adds.
She’s beautiful—every movement effortless, commanding attention. A deep red halter dress hugs her figure, dark curls spilling over her shoulders, and her smile is warm enough to soften the edge of my nerves.
“Hi, I’m Natalia.” She offers her hand.
“May,” I reply.
She turns to Finn with familiarity. “O’Donoghue. Good to see you.”
“Likewise, Mrs. García.”
“It looks like we’re sitting next to you tonight,” she adds, already pulling out the chair beside mine.
As everyone settles, Finn and Sergeant García fall quickly into conversation, catching up with an ease that tells me this isn’t their first event like this.
Natalia, thankfully, turns her attention to me.
She’s extroverted in the best way, the kind of person who fills silence without making it feel forced. Within minutes, she’s telling me who’s who, quietly giving context every time someone walks by.
“That’s Commander so-and-so,” she whispers at one point. “And that’s the mayor’s husband—he organizes half these events.”
I laugh softly, instantly grateful for her.
Conversation becomes easier. Breathing becomes easier.
People keep coming by the table to greet Finn—high-ranking officers, officials, and people offering congratulations to him for being chosen to drop the wreath during the Fleet of Flowers ceremony.
Each time, he stands, shakes hands, and introduces me with a quiet confidence that makes me feel a little bit more comfortable about being here.
I smile. I answer questions. I survive.
And then the wine starts flowing.
Servers move between tables with trays of reds, whites, and sparkling options, filling glasses as quickly as they empty. The soft clink of glass against glass fills the spaces between laughter.
The winery glows around us, and little by little, the tightness in my shoulders begins to ease.
I sip my wine and let myself exhale.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur.
Dinner comes first—warm plates, clinking glasses, conversation blending into a low hum that fills the winery. By then, I’ve stopped feeling like every eye in the room is on me, or maybe I’ve just gotten better at pretending they aren’t.
After everyone has eaten, the mayor takes the stage, thanking sponsors and discussing the effort required to keep tourism alive in a small coastal town like this one.
One by one, people step up to the microphone, sharing numbers, donations, and plans.
The Fleet of Flowers comes up more than once—the wreaths, the ceremony, the way the entire community shows up every year to honor those lost at sea.
When volunteers are requested to help with wreath-making, Natalia nudges me.
“Do it with me?” she whispers.
My hand goes up. Hers too.
Sergeant García speaks next, explaining the Coast Guard’s role in the ceremony, and then he formally introduces Finn as this year’s wreath bearer.
The room applauds.
García talks about Finn’s dedication and leadership, and a recent rescue in which he helped save three fishermen after their vessel capsized.
I glance at Finn while they praise him.
His expression barely shifts. He remains calm and humble, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with being admired so openly.
I, on the other hand, am thoroughly impressed.
Then the music starts.
The dance floor fills fast—people looser now, laughter louder, wine flowing freely. Finn stands and offers me his hand, polite and steady, and I take it.
Suddenly, we are swaying together to “Come Away With Me” among strangers who feel like they’ve known each other forever.
His hand rests warm at the small of my back.
And despite the romance of it all, my mind drifts.
To last night.
To my kitchen.
To the sound of Luis Miguel filling the room while I chopped bell peppers, wishing—just for a second—that Aiden might take my hand and pull me into a slow dance between the stove and the counter.
I blink and pull myself back to the present.
This man, who is perfect in every way, steady and handsome, and holding me like I’m the only person here, should be enough.
But somehow… something feels missing.
“Thank you for coming with me tonight, May.”
I look up at him. “Thank you for inviting me. It’s been really lovely.”
His eyes flick briefly to my mouth, and nerves flutter low in my stomach.
“I hate to say this, lass,” he murmurs, “but I have to report at five.”
I laugh softly. “Then we should probably go. It’s already after eleven.”
He smiles, lifts my hand, and presses a kiss to my knuckles before leading me back to the table.
Goodbyes blur together—handshakes, smiles, promises. Natalia and I exchange numbers and promise to meet again at the wreath-making event, and then we’re finally walking out into the cool night air.
Finn opens the truck door for me. I climb in and buckle up while he walks around the front.
I unlock my phone to check notifications, and the group chat with my sisters is chaos, as expected. Right before Finn arrived, I sent them one of the pictures Aiden took of Neptune and me, standing by my new hydrangeas.
April:
Damn girl, you clean up GOOD
June:
wow that dress is absolutely stunning! And look at little Neptune!
April:
OMG and the flowers!
June:
Do you think he wore his uniform??
April:
Officer and a Gentleman vibes for sure
June:
Wasn’t Richard Gere in the Navy?
April:
Close enough
I laugh quietly and type back.
Me:
Uniform is navy with a white cap. And no, he did not carry me. But we did dance.
The next message is from Cassie.
Cassie:
I crossed paths with O’Donoghue leaving your neighborhood. He looked HOT. Update me later!!
I glance sideways at Finn as he drives—focused, relaxed—and smile to myself.
Last unread message.
Aiden:
Neptune had dinner right after our hike. I’m heading out for blueberry picking at 8 tomorrow. If you’re still up for it, I’d love for you to join me.
Warmth spreads through my chest.
Me:
Thank you for taking care of him. I’ll see you at 8 :)
His reply comes in quickly.
Aiden:
See you tomorrow :)
“All okay?” Finn asks.
“Yeah.” I lock my phone. “Just my sisters checking in.”
He laughs softly.
“Do you have siblings?” I ask after a moment.
“Yeah.” That’s all he offers.
Something in his tone tells me not to push.
The rest of the short drive home passes in comfortable quiet.
Soon we’re pulling into my driveway. Finn shifts the truck into park.
“Thanks for coming with me tonight.”
“I had fun,” I answer honestly.
“Let me get your door.”
He steps out, walks around the truck, and I watch him through the windshield.
He opens the door and offers his hand.
When I take it, he guides my hand to his shoulder, his other arm sliding carefully around my waist as he lifts me in the air like he’s done so many times now.
I laugh, a little breathless at the sudden closeness.
He lowers me slowly, and his eyes drop to my lips.
I feel the moment unfolding before it happens—the quiet pause, the night air, the way everything narrows to just the space between us.
His lips touch mine, soft and unhurried, and for a moment, the world goes perfectly still.