Chapter Ten
Flynn
“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests, and fellow philanthropists, tonight we gather to celebrate a cause dear to our hearts: the fight against cancer. As we stand here in this magnificent hall, I’m reminded of the resilience and strength that defines our community.”
I inhaled slowly, feeling my heart flutter with a mixture of pride and nerves. So many eyes were on me, but I had to speak for those who needed hope. “Our foundation’s mission is clear: to support groundbreaking research, provide hope to those affected, and ensure no one faces this journey alone.
Tonight, we’ve come together to make a difference. I want to express my deepest gratitude to each and every one of you for your unwavering support. Your generosity has enabled us to fund life-changing initiatives—from cutting-edge treatments to compassionate care programs.”
My eyes teared up as I read the next part, which I’d written with my best friend, Ciara, in mind—memories of her struggles washing over me like a sudden tide. “As we honor the courage of cancer survivors and the memories of those we’ve lost, let us reaffirm our commitment to this noble cause. Together, we can create a brighter future.”
I paused, my throat tight, recalling the promise Ciara had made me swear to keep: never to give up, never to lose faith. “I’d also like to acknowledge the tireless efforts of our medical professionals, researchers, and volunteers. Your dedication inspires us all.”
A rush of warmth spread through my chest as I spoke her name. “And to my lovely fiancée, Dr. Cedar Rowan, whose passion for oncology embodies the spirit of this evening… Cedar, my love, where are—?”
My gaze swept the room, expecting to find Cedar’s warm smile—a quiet beacon that always steadied me—but she was nowhere to be seen. A pang of confusion and disappointment tugged at my gut. I paused, scanning the crowd again, certain I’d just missed her amid the sea of faces.
“Well, I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. So, to my lovely fiancée and everyone who brings this foundation’s vision to life—cheers.”
As the crowd erupted in applause, I quickly handed the microphone to the emcee and jogged down the small podium. The swirl of chatter and clinking glasses filled the grand ballroom, but the sense of uncertainty gnawed at me. It was unlike Cedar to disappear without a word.
I headed to the restrooms adjacent to the hall, hoping Cedar might be there freshening up or taking a moment to herself. The ladies’ room was empty, aside from a few guests touching up their lipstick.
“Have you seen Dr. Cedar?” I asked one of them, careful to keep my voice polite but unable to mask the growing tension in my tone.
“No, sir, I haven’t,” she replied.
I nodded, forcing a small smile in thanks, then returned to the main hall, scanning the crowd again. My heartbeat pulsed in my ears. Had I simply missed her in all this chaos?
I wove through the guests, uttering quick apologies when I brushed against someone or ducked away from an offered handshake. I felt guilt growing in my chest—how could I have let my own fiancée slip away?
I recalled the last time I’d actually seen her: she’d been by my side as we entered, that familiar, comforting presence at my elbow. Then the swarm of guests had separated us. I’d gotten caught up in talking to sponsors, city officials, and other VIPs. Now, I couldn’t even remember the moment she’d left me.
“Have you seen Cedar?” I asked a guest I’d last spotted her with. He was deep in conversation, but I didn’t bother waiting for a break. Finding Cedar was my only priority.
“No, man. She walked off about forty minutes ago.”
Forty minutes. How did I lose track for that long? A hollow sensation started to spread through my chest. This event was already overwhelming for her—she’d mentioned her nerves on the drive over, and I had promised to be by her side, to make sure she felt included.
I roamed around, peering into every corner, scanning near the buffet tables, the lounge area, and the small alcoves where one might seek quiet. Each minute felt like an eternity, my mind conjuring images of Cedar standing alone, fighting back the anxiety she’d hinted at before.
“Have you seen Cedar?” I asked another attendee.
“Sorry, no,” he said with a shrug, turning back to his conversation.
Frustration and worry simmered, forming a knot in my stomach. Someone called my name—“Excuse me, Mr. Flynn!”—but I didn’t stop to respond. I didn’t care who it was or how important they might be; Cedar mattered more.
Suddenly, Heather emerged from the crowd, catching up to me with a concerned look. Her manicured fingers tapped lightly against the champagne flute in her hand. Normally, her poised demeanor soothed me, but tonight her expression only amplified my anxiety.
“If you’re not too busy frolicking with your fiancée,” she began, her voice lowering on the word fiancée with a hint of acerbic wit, “you might want to attend to the guests who are looking for you.”
“They can wait. I can’t find Cedar anywhere.”
Her smug expression vanished instantly. “Still? She was with you not too long ago—what happened?”
“I have no idea,” I admitted, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “I think I lost her. I’ve looked everywhere.”
“Maybe she went to the ladies’ room?”
“No…already checked. She’s not there.”
Heather’s brow furrowed. “When did you last see her?”
I did a quick calculation, internally kicking myself for every minute I’d been absent from her side. “Maybe an hour before the speech.”
“One whole hour?” Heather’s eyes widened, and I felt the weight of my oversight slam into me like a punch to the gut.
She set her now-empty glass on a passing steward’s tray, looking as unsure as I felt. “How about we check outside?” she suggested. “I’d feel suffocated too, if I were her.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
We were almost at the large glass doors leading outside when my eyes landed on Devan, standing by the entrance in his crisp police uniform. He was part of Mayor Tanaka’s security detail tonight, always scanning the crowd with calm authority. He looked up, spotting me, and approached with long, purposeful strides.
“Who’s that?” Heather asked, following my gaze.
“Officer Devan,” I replied. “He’s part of Mayor Tanaka’s security team.”
I noticed a subtle flicker in Heather’s expression—perhaps mild intrigue—but it was gone in an instant. As we reached Devan, I couldn’t help feeling a burst of relief that, for once, I didn’t have to deal with him over an incident or a security breach.
“Flynn.” He shook my hand firmly.
“Devan,” I said. Heather gave him a nod in greeting.
He turned back to me, looking grim. “I was looking for you.”
“Not now,” I said, voice sharp with urgency. “Whatever it is, my sister can handle it. I’m looking for Cedar.”
His gaze flickered in sympathy. “She’s the reason I came to find you,” he said quietly. “I saw her earlier, and she seemed upset—she was by the pool, crying. I tried to console her, but she…didn’t want to talk.”
The moment the words left his lips, my pulse jackhammered. I sprinted toward the yard, pushing past startled guests who stepped aside in confusion. All the gala’s glamour, the swirling violin music, the clinking champagne glasses—none of it mattered now. Cedar was hurting, and I needed to be with her.
Heather must have sensed I needed space, because she didn’t follow. Or perhaps she recognized the intensity of my expression and chose not to interfere.
A million questions swirled in my head. Why was she crying? How long had she been outside alone? Did someone say something cruel? Is it because I abandoned her?
An icy surge of guilt spurred me forward. I promised to look out for her. The thought played over and over like a broken record, each repetition driving me faster. I reached the outdoor area, my eyes locking onto the softly lit pool. There, in a darkened corner beyond the glow of lanterns, I finally saw her.
Cedar sat near the pool’s edge, her shoulders trembling beneath the hotel’s gentle lighting. The sight of her hunched form—knees drawn close, hair tumbling forward—made my heart lurch painfully.
I paused to catch my breath, heart pounding not from the run but from the anxious storm raging inside me. Every step I took felt loaded with urgency. I slid out of my jacket, letting it fall onto a nearby chair.
As I approached, the delicate sounds of her sobs reached my ears. They were quiet yet devastating, a soft heartbreak that filled the warm night air. My throat constricted painfully; I’d never seen her this vulnerable, this raw.
I hesitated for a split second, memories of the night’s tender moments flashing through my mind: the shy smiles, the way her eyes lit up whenever she spoke about a new medical breakthrough, the soft curve of her lips when she found something amusing. That same warmth had drawn me to her more powerfully than I’d ever expected.
Now, I wanted to protect her from anything that might cause her pain—even if, in this moment, that pain was me.
“Cedar?” I whispered, my voice hushed, not wanting to startle her.
She didn’t move. She remained curled into herself, as though shrinking from the world around her. A slight shudder passed through her at the sound of my voice, but she kept her face hidden, hair forming a barrier I was almost afraid to cross.
Tentatively, I reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder. Her entire body seemed to cave in, as if bracing for more pain. I couldn’t bear it.
Without another word, I lowered myself beside her, close enough to feel the quiver of each breath. The second she recognized me, she collapsed into my arms, burying her face against my chest. Her tears soaked through my shirt, but I didn’t care.
Neither of us spoke. Words felt cheap and inadequate compared to the raw emotion surrounding us. She clung to me, her sobs shaking her entire body, and I wrapped my arms around her, letting her know I was there—that I wasn’t leaving her again.
Gently, I pressed one hand to the back of her head, running my fingers through her hair in a steady, soothing rhythm. With my other hand, I traced small circles along her back, hoping to ease the tension coiled tight in her muscles. Slowly, her ragged breathing calmed, though I could still feel her heart pounding against mine.
When her sobs finally subsided, she pulled back just enough to speak, her gaze downcast, cheeks blotchy from tears. “I’m sorry…I got overwhelmed at the party.”
The apology scraped at my heart. “Hey, there’s nothing to be sorry about, love. If anything, I’m sorry I left you alone.”
I gently tilted her chin up. The vulnerability in her eyes was so stark, so unguarded, that it took my breath away. My own chest constricted with a fierce protectiveness I hadn’t known I was capable of.
Her lips parted, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something more—relief, gratitude, maybe even longing. The warmth of her breath mingled with the cool night air between us.
Unable to resist, I leaned in slowly, drawn by the gentle curve of her mouth and the unspoken tension that pulsed in the scant space between us. My heart thundered, the world around me blurring into insignificance.
Then, a sudden cough shattered the moment. We jumped apart, heads snapping around to see my secretary standing at the edge of the yard, holding a file as if it were a peace offering. She looked apologetic yet determined.
“Sorry to interrupt, sir,” she murmured. “Something extremely urgent just came up.”
I could almost feel Cedar stiffen in my arms, the fragile bubble of intimacy bursting under the reality we both had to face. The glamorous event and its myriad demands were still going on, even if our private world had paused.
But no matter how urgent that interruption, I knew one thing: I was not going to fail Cedar again.
I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and met her eyes, hoping she could see the promise there—that I was done letting the crowd pull me away. And for just a second, I felt her squeeze back, a subtle acknowledgment that we would face whatever came next, together.