Chapter Five
Cedar
I sighed, staring at my phone as Flynn’s name flashed on the screen for the third time that day. My finger hovered over the ignore button, and I hesitated for a moment before letting out a resigned breath and silencing the call.
What was I thinking, suggesting a fake engagement? Desperation, maybe?
The memory of Devan’s flirtatious smiles still made my skin crawl. Or perhaps it was the lingering grief over Ciara’s passing that had me seeking solace in Flynn’s comforting presence.
But now, the memory of Flynn’s incredulous expression lingered, making my cheeks burn. In the stark light of day, proposing a fake engagement felt absurd.
I’d been dodging Flynn’s calls all weekend, unsure how to handle the aftermath. Part of me worried he’d think I’d lost my mind; another part feared he’d actually consider going through with it.
Anxiety churned in my stomach, relentless as a tide. Avoiding Flynn’s calls seemed like the easiest solution, but I knew it couldn’t last forever. Eventually, I’d have to talk to him.
With a sigh, I shoved the swirling thoughts aside and turned my attention to the patient file on my desk. Work was the best escape I knew—immersing myself in charts and diagnoses helped me forget my personal chaos.
Just as I began reviewing labs, Nurse Katie poked her head into my office, a knowing sparkle in her eyes.
“Dr. Cedar, you have a patient waiting.”
I set my phone aside with relief. “Who’s next?”
“Mrs. Shelby,” Nurse Katie replied, a sly grin on her lips. “And I heard she’s got the latest scoop on your love life.”
I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. “Small-town rumor mill in full swing again, huh? What’s the story now?”
Nurse Katie leaned in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Word is, you’re dating Devan—the ‘hot cop.’ Mrs. Shelby’s niece goes to Sunday school with his cousin.”
I chuckled. “That’s not even close to true, but let me guess… the entire town is already planning our wedding?”
Nurse Kathie winked. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure people hear the real story.”
“Go ahead and send her in,” I said, grateful for the distraction.
With a nod, she disappeared. A moment later, Mrs. Shelby entered, her silver curls bouncing as she made her way to the exam chair. We exchanged warm smiles.
“Cedar, dear, how’s your Mom doing?” she asked, settling down carefully.
“She’s well, thank you,” I replied, clicking open her file. “How can I help you today, Mrs. Shelby?”
Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “Oh, I’m sure you already know what I’m going to ask. My niece says you and Devan are just perfect together—”
I laughed, holding up a hand. “Mrs. Shelby, trust me, there’s nothing going on between me and Devan.”
Her face fell slightly. “You’re certain? He’s such a hard worker. I’d love to see you two—”
I gently steered the conversation back to her health. “So, what symptoms have brought you in today?”
Mrs. Shelby’s expression turned serious. “I’ve noticed a lump in my breast… and sometimes there’s a bit of pain. I’m worried it might be…something bad.”
I offered her my hand, my voice softening. “Let’s do an exam, okay? I’ll see what I can find, and we’ll decide the next steps from there.”
After checking, I did find a small, palpable lump. She stared at me, eyes widening in concern, and my own heart clenched in empathy.
“I recommend an mammogram and ultrasound to get a clearer picture,” I explained gently. “It might just be benign, but we need to rule out anything serious.”
Fear flickered across her features. “You mean… it could be cancer?”
I squeezed her hand. “We don’t know that. Even if it is, we have plenty of effective treatments nowadays. You’re not in this alone.”
Relief mingled with worry in her eyes, but she mustered a small smile. “Thank you, dear. I—I trust you.”
We scheduled her tests and a follow-up. As she rose to leave, Mrs. Shelby squeezed my hand again, her voice quavering. “Say hello to that handsome Devan next time you see him, will you?”
I forced a polite smile. “I’ll keep that in mind. Take care, Mrs. Shelby.”
She gave me a final wave and left, leaving behind a swirl of speculation about my so-called love life.
***
By lunchtime, I felt a headache coming on—too many worries had piled up in my mind. Grabbing a sandwich, I headed to the hospital cafeteria and found a quiet corner, thankful for a moment to breathe.
Outside the large windows, sunlight filtered through the leafy branches. The hum of other doctors and nurses chatting over meals provided a comforting background. But my own thoughts kept drifting back to my patients—and to Ciara.
Mrs. Shelby’s trembling hands reminded me of Ciara’s weaker moments, though her battle had been different.
There was also 25-year-old Emily Wilson, gone too soon from leukemia, and Ruth’s husband clinging to hope even though his wife had slipped into a near-irreversible state.
Guiding families toward acceptance was never easy. Each moment weighed heavily on my heart, yet it also reminded me why I chose this profession.
The fragility of life was a stark reality, even for me. At least I could empathize with my patients, having witnessed what Ciara went through.
I bit into my sandwich, the tang of mustard momentarily jolting me from my somber thoughts. It was strange how life marched on—people ate, laughed, gossiped—even as others faced unimaginable pain. Sometimes, I envied that normalcy.
My reverie was interrupted, “Mind if I join you?” a familiar voice asked. I glanced up to see Dr. Stephen, a friendly colleague from the ER, but also more persistent than I’d like.
I offered a polite nod, trying to swallow my discomfort. Dr. Stephen had made his interest in me pretty clear, but I’d never reciprocated.
“Cedar, you look lovely today,” he said, sitting down across from me.
“Thanks, Stephen,” I replied, keeping my tone neutral. “Just catching a break after a busy morning.”
He launched into small talk, asking everything from my favorite color to my thoughts on the upcoming hospital renovations.
I responded politely but briefly, hoping he’d notice my disinterest. Yet he persisted, leaning in closer, his gaze lingering.
“You know,” he said finally, “maybe we could grab dinner sometime—just us?”
I laid my sandwich aside, measuring my words. “I appreciate the offer, Stephen, but I’m not interested.”
He frowned slightly. “Why not? We get along well, and you deserve a night out.”
“I have enough on my plate already,” I said, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He leaned forward, his voice taking on a suggestive tone. “Come on, Cedar. You work too hard. One dinner can’t hurt.”
Suddenly, his hand drifted across the table, covering mine. The warmth of his touch clashed with my immediate unease.
I pulled my hand away calmly. “Please, don’t.”
He smiled, trying to brush it off. “You’re not even giving me a chance, Cedar.”
His hand crept back, this time intertwining his fingers with mine in a way that felt possessive and intrusive. My chest tightened.
“I don’t bite,” he murmured, leaning closer.
“But I might,” another voice broke in, low and unmistakably firm. Flynn stood a few steps away, eyes fixed on Stephen’s hand over mine. “The lady said she’s not interested,” he added, voice echoing with controlled anger. A few onlookers froze mid-step, curiosity plain on their faces.
Stephen’s eyes darted to Flynn, startled. “And you are…?”
“Someone who’ll give you a black eye if you don’t let go of my fiancée ,” Flynn said, each syllable like a warning bell. Conversations around us hushed as heads turned.
Stephen’s face paled, and he let go of my hand instantly. “I…I didn’t know she was engaged.”
“None of your business either way,” Flynn muttered, eyes blazing with protective fury.
I felt a surprise surge through me, but a spark of relief too. Fiancée, he’d said. My heart pounded, yet oddly, the word felt… comforting?
Flynn turned to me with a half-smile. “Why can’t I leave you alone for an hour without random guys trying to hold your hand?” He tried to sound casual, but concern rippled beneath his teasing.
Shrugging, I forced a light laugh. “Maybe I’m just that irresistible.”
His grin turned wry. “Or maybe you’re a magnet for trouble. I’ll get you some pepper spray next time.”
Stephen shuffled awkwardly, gathering his things. “I’m… sorry. Really.”
Flynn just stared until Stephen hurried off, casting nervous glances behind him. A few onlookers whispered, but slowly dispersed, disappointed the show was over.
“Thanks for swooping in,” I murmured, meeting Flynn’s gaze. “He wouldn’t take a hint.”
“No problem,” Flynn said, his voice quieter now. “But I thought you were ignoring my calls?”
Guilt twisted in my stomach. “I—I was.”
“Save the explanation for later. Right now, let’s get you out of here before another suitor pops up.” He offered his hand with a playful tilt of his head.
I took it, ignoring the little flutter in my chest. “Fine.”
We made our way toward the corridor, passing by colleagues who openly gawked at the sight of us hand in hand. Flynn leaned in, his breath warm near my ear.
“They’re totally checking us out,” he whispered.
I nodded, my face heating. “Let them think what they want.”
He pulled back after a few steps, eyes dancing with amusement. “Sorry, I had to sell the act.”
I gave him a pointed look. “This ‘act’ is already more intense than I’d like.”
Flynn’s smirk was unrepentant. “Yeah, but you have to admit, I make for a pretty convincing fake fiancé.”
“Uh-huh,” I muttered, half-rolling my eyes. “Come on, we can talk in my office—privately.”
As soon as I shut the door behind us, Flynn turned, his expression more serious than before.
“Cedar, let’s do it,” he said, voice low.
I blinked. “Do what?”
“Let’s actually get engaged—fake or not.”
My heart seemed to skip a beat. I stared at him, half-expecting a grin to break across his face. But he looked earnest.
“Flynn… you’re not serious. That’s—”
“Ridiculous? Maybe,” he said, stepping closer. “But we both have problems to solve. My uncle’s breathing down my neck, and your parents are pushing you to marry. Maybe this is our best shot—at least for now.”
I swallowed hard, the reality of his words colliding with the notion of a pretend engagement. Was this truly our best option?
Flynn’s eyes held mine, unwavering. “So, what do you say?”
A dozen objections rose to my lips, but in that moment, my mind was too jumbled to sort them. Instead, I just stood there, heart hammering, torn between the impossibility of the idea and the fierce look in Flynn’s eyes.