The crowd erupted into a rousing applause far greater than any received by the previous speakers. Then again, the others hadn’t just pledged millions of dollars to both the Meredith Vanderholden Grant Pediatric Cancer Institute as well as the Lynn Sage Comprehensive Breast Center. Hank used the time to scan the room. Again. He’d been looking for her since the moment he’d been introduced to a group whose collective reaction could best be described as shock and awe.

Hank had insisted the foundation keep his attendance a secret until the day of the event. He blamed heightened security, but the truth of the matter was that part of him feared Cassie would send someone else if she knew he’d be there. Or worse, decline the job altogether. But Clayton assured him he’d seen the bakery truck in the loading dock. Surely she’d seen the sign in the lobby announcing his surprise appearance? There was no doubt she’d be done setting up by now. Cassie was nothing if not efficient. Hell, she’d probably had the van packed, checked, and rechecked hours before the scheduled delivery time.

A ghost of a smile curved his lips as he recalled finding her in the bakery just after dawn on her brother’s wedding day. She’d been so nervous, she’d baked enough sugar cookies to feed not only everyone attending the reception, but half the town as well. The way she’d looked, leaning over the counter with her hair in a sloppy twist and flour smudged on her crinkled nose, had been fucking adorable. But it was her smile that slayed him, lighting not only her face but her bright green eyes. Hank had never been a morning person, but he’d rise early every damn day if that was the look that would great him.

A now-familiar ache gripped his chest. He couldn’t even count the number of times he’d woken in the darkness and in his groggy state confused dreams with reality. Each time he’d reached across the mattress and each time his bed had been as empty as the rest of his life. But today, she was there. Granted, not in his bed, but at least in the same building. So if she was there, and she knew he was too, where the hell was she? Wasn’t she the least bit interested in seeing him, if for no other reason than to say her piece and maybe give him a well-deserved slap across the face? But as he searched the rows of faces in the crowded ballroom, the one he hoped to see above all others was nowhere to be found.

He wanted to think her absence wasn’t intentional. She’d seen the sign, and wanted to speak to him, but something had come up last minute that had caused a delay. But more likely she probably took off the moment she realized he was in the building. And could he blame her? That’s exactly what he’d done to her. It wasn’t what he’d wanted, but that didn’t change the reality. In a moment of utter chaos and confusion, she’d had the truth thrust at her along with a stack of photographs. It wasn’t just her trust that had been violated, but her privacy as well. He should have protected her, explained the situation and begged her forgiveness. Instead, he’d left her. What a fucking coward. While he had no choice but to fly home that night, ten weeks had passed since then. An explanation, not to mention an apology, was long overdue.

Meredith Grant crossed the stage with her hand outstretched. He knew the drill: fake smiles and empty compliments all for the sake of a donation and a photograph to share with the press and hang on the wall. Not today, Hank thought. The pomp and bullshit would have to wait.

He turned and hurried down the stairs on the opposite side of the stage. Clayton stepped forward the moment he saw him in motion.

“Your Highness?”

“Where is she?” He didn’t need to say more. Clayton knew exactly who he meant.

“Miss Miller and Mrs. Grant watched the start of your speech from the rear entrance.”

So she was there. And left. “And now?”

“Whereabouts unknown.” A muscle in Clayton’s jaw ticked. Whoever had been posted at that door had clearly dropped the ball, something Clayton would no doubt address after the event, but that didn’t help matters much now. “The van is still in the loading dock, however, so I have every reason to believe she’s still on site.”

Fuck. Hank ran a hand through his hair. He’d never find her running around the hotel, much less the city. But if the van was still there then she’d eventually be back. He just had to get there before she did, then he’d wait all night if that’s what it took.

“Which way?”

“Sir?”

“Which way is the van?”

“Through the kitchen is probably fastest.”. The words had no sooner left Clayton’s mouth when Hank caught sight of a waiter emerging through a set of doors with a carafe of coffee in each hand. Bingo.

“But, sir—”

Hank didn’t stick around long enough to hear the rest of what Clayton was going to say. In three long strides he was pushing through the double doors, much to the shock of not only his security detail, but the various waiters and kitchen staff as well. The place was a goddamn circus. No matter which way he looked, all he saw was a maze of stainless steel counters and metal frame dish racks that seemed to go on indefinitely. Did it really take all this to run a hotel? A woman in a tuxedo attempted an awkward curtsy while a man dressed in white bowed.

“Where is the loading dock?” he asked them. The woman stood completely still, her shock apparently rendering her not only motionless, but mute. The man managed to point his finger, but then recovered enough to ask for a photo. “Next time,” Hank said before dashing off in the direction the man had indicated. He could hear Clayton behind him, talking into the microphone at his wrist as he barked orders to the men stationed outside the hotel. When he turned the corner he nearly collided with a waiter carrying a tray of china teacups. The man leapt out of the way and although Hank cringed as he heard several cups crash to the ground, he didn’t slow down. He couldn’t, not if he had any hope of catching her.

His heart hammered inside his chest as he sprinted down the corridor, the illuminated exit sign leading the way, until he burst onto the loading dock. The Sugar Rush van was still there. The rear doors stood open, but when he rounded the back it wasn’t Cassie who was packing the last of the empty trays into the van.

“Olivia,” he said, out of breath.

She startled. “Hank.” At first she almost seemed happy to see him, but then her expression changed and her spine straightened. “I mean Henry.”

“Hank is fine.” Better than fine actually, it would be fucking perfect. If only it were true, then none of this would be happening. “Where is she?”

“She left.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, shoving his fingers though his hair and curling them into a fist. His eyes darted around the alley, searching blindly for an answer he knew deep down he wouldn’t find. Instead all he saw was brick and steel looming overhead, a few garbage bins lined up along the wall, and the head of his security detail standing motionless beside the exit door.

“So,” she said after a few uncomfortable moments of silence. “Twelve hundred cupcakes, huh? That’s a lot of baked goods just to break the ice. Not that I don’t appreciate the business, but maybe next time you could try sending roses like any other fuck-up?”

“I think it’s safe to say there won’t be a next time. She’s made her feelings abundantly clear.”

Olivia studied him for a beat, then relaxed her stance and softened her tone. “I’m sorry.”

Hank wasn’t sure if she was referring to her reaction to him or the fact that Cassie had bolted without so much as a “hello” or even a “fuck you,” but it really didn’t matter. Neither merited an apology. He sat down on the concrete steps and dropped his head into his hands. “No worse than I deserve,” he murmured. He was a bloody fool for thinking he stood a second chance with her. Maybe if he’d been able to explain things on his own terms, without being ambushed by the press and extracted by his security team, but certainly not after the way things went down.

“No, it’s not.”

His head snapped up. “You’re on my side?”

“I’m on Cassie’s side,” she clarified. She came to sit on the step beside him. “Something happened between the two of you down there. I know it was supposed to be a weekend fling, but I think we both know it turned into a hell of a lot more.”

He nodded. Part of him had known from the very first night that Cassie was different. That he was different than he was with her, and it had nothing to do with the name he went by. He should have told her the truth right then and there. But despite all the medals that hung from his military uniform, when it came to his emotions, Henry was far more of a coward than Hank. So instead of ending the pretense that might eventually destroy what they had, he hid behind it, living in the moment and pushing any unwelcome thoughts from his mind.

“For her sake,” she said, “I’d like to see you two have a chance.”

Hank realized that couldn’t have been easy for Cassie’s best friend to say. No doubt she’d heard quite a bit over the last ten weeks, the majority which was probably far from flattering. “I appreciate that, Olivia, more than you know.”

“Look, I’m not saying you’re not a total douchebag for letting her think you were just some bloke with a hot accent. Other people might be able to get past that and see it as just some sort of Prince and the Pauper crisis. But for Cassie it’s even worse than that. In her eyes you were leading a double life, which for her . . .” Olivia’s words trailed off. Her internal struggle was written all over her face. There was clearly more she wanted to say, but when she finally spoke it was a vague generality. “Let’s just say her family went through a rough time when she was growing up.”

“Yes, she told me about Clare.”

Olivia’s eyes grew wide. “She did?”

Hank nodded. Perhaps now that she knew Cassie had confided in him, she’d feel comfortable doing the same.

“That’s huge. And totally proves my point about the two of you. That’s not something she talks about. Like ever.”

Her gaze shifted briefly to where one of Clayton’s men was posted at the end of the driveway. “What else did she tell you about her family?”

“Mostly how her mum became extremely overprotective.”

“And her dad?”

“Not much really.” He thought back to their conversation. “All she said was that he’d had the opposite reaction.” She hadn’t explained what that meant exactly, and now that he mentioned it, Hank realized she’d changed the subject rather quickly after that.

Olivia took a deep breath and planted her hands on her knees. “After Clare died, Mrs. Miller started to really micromanage everything Cassie did. Big time. Her dad went the other direction. He disengaged. It was like one parent was so traumatized she had to hold on tight and the other was so afraid of loss he actually started to let go.”

Hank could understand that in the abstract. Protecting yourself from hurt by closing off was a standard defense mechanism. If he was honest, it was one he’d used himself at times. But for a father to behave that way toward his own child? “That must have been even worse than having her mum hovering about.”

“To be honest, I don’t think it really bothered her too much at first. I mean if one parent smothers you, it’s hard to be upset when the other gives you breathing room.” She turned to look at him and a profound sadness filled her hazel eyes. “But that detachment drove a wedge between her parents.”

“So they’re divorced now I take it?” The fact that Mr. Miller hadn’t been present at his son’s wedding wasn’t lost on Hank. Matthew had never said much about his dad when they were in school, but he never imagined they were on that poor of terms. Of course, there was also another explanation. “Or did he pass away?

“Oh no, he’s still very much alive and living with his new family.”

Hank’s lips pressed into a hard line. “I see.”

“It’s not just that he found someone else and had more kids. It’s that he did it while he was still married to Cassie’s mom.”

Fucking bastard.

“He’d been leading a double life for years by the time anyone found out about it.” Olivia lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Grief is different for everyone, and I guess that was how he dealt with his. But it left Cassie a mess.”

“I can’t even imagine.” Hank’s hands curled into fists at his sides. He wanted to hit something, but more than that he wanted to comfort the girl who’d suffered far too much loss and betrayal. Only problem was, he couldn’t ease her pain because in the end he’d only inflicted more of the same. “It’s a wonder she survived at all. Most people would have turned out a jaded pessimist.”

“Yeah, I know a few of those, even was one for a while. But Cassie is different. Her heart is so open and loving. That was her survival instinct. So instead of shutting down the way a lot of people would, she became obsessed with happy endings. Guess she needed the reassurance. She escaped into eighties rom-coms and started reading romance novels where she was guaranteed an HEA.”

Hank frowned. “HEA?”

“Happily Ever After,” Olivia explained. “Trust me, it’s a chick thing. You wouldn’t understand.” A wistful smile formed on her lips. “Hell, I didn’t either until recently.”

“No, I get it. Like a fairy tale. Except her prince turned out to be a frog, not the other way around.”

Olivia reached across the gap between them and placed her hand on his forearm. “The story doesn’t have to be over.”

The subtle lift in her voice sparked something deep inside his chest—hope. Was it possible their story wasn’t ending, but beginning? “Do you think?”

I think she’d be crazy not to at least hear you out. You’re all right.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “For a royal areshole.”

Clayton stood motionless behind her but Hank was fairly certain a hint of a smile tugged the corner of his lips.

Well-deserving insults aside, Olivia was right. Their story didn’t have be over. His father’s accident had kept him from going after Cassie at first, but he couldn’t hide behind that excuse anymore. If he wanted her, he had to grow a pair. Life was short—something he’d learned the hard way not once, but nearly twice. He’d lost his mother to a cruel disease, and he’d nearly lost his father as well. There was a bitter irony in the fact that he’d sacrificed his passion by giving up race cars, only to nearly die slipping down a flight of stairs, but there was a lesson there as well. He had to carpe the fuck out of that diem.

Hank straightened his spine. It was time to go get his girl.

He stood and brushed the dust from his hands. “Mind if I borrow the van?

“Um, yeah, sure.” A slight frown formed on her face. “Where are you going?”

He raised a brow.

“Right. Of course.” Olivia nodded. “Do you know how to get there?”

Hank grinned. “I’ve been lost for months, luv. But not anymore.” He snatched the keys out of her hand and winked. “And if I get turned around again, I know a lovely redhead I can ask for directions.”