Page 41 of Crossing the Line (Phoenix Ridge Medical #6)

Natalie's pen stilled on her patient notes. "Carmen?—"

"I know I betrayed your trust," Carmen interrupted, her voice gaining strength despite the way her hands trembled.

"I know I put Harper in an impossible position, and I know I handled everything wrong from the moment I realized who she was.

But my feelings for your daughter are real, Natalie.

They're not some midlife crisis or an abuse of power. I love her."

The admission hung between them like a bridge Carmen wasn't sure Natalie would cross. Her friend's face remained carefully composed, but Carmen caught the slight tightening around her eyes that suggested the words had landed.

"Love," Natalie repeated, her tone flat. "You think sleeping with my twenty-six-year-old daughter while supervising her medical training is love?"

"I think falling for someone who challenges me intellectually, who makes me remember why I became a surgeon in the first place, who sees past my professional reputation to the person underneath—yes, that's love.

" Carmen leaned forward, desperate to bridge the distance between them.

"Harper didn't seduce me, Natalie. She didn't manipulate her way into my bed.

We found each other by accident and fell in love despite every reason it was impossible. "

"She lied to you about who she was."

"She was protecting herself from exactly what happened—being judged as Dr. Langston's daughter instead of as herself.

" Carmen's voice carried conviction despite her nerves.

"Can you honestly tell me you've never wanted to be seen as just Natalie instead of the respected physician everyone expects you to be? "

Something shifted in Natalie's expression, a crack in her steely composure. "That's different."

"Is it? Harper spent one night being wanted for who she was rather than whose daughter she was. I can't blame her for that, and neither should you."

Natalie set down her pen and removed her reading glasses. "She's my daughter, Carmen. Watching her hurt after you ended things has been devastating."

A pang radiated in her chest. "She's been hurt?"

"Devastated and confused. Wondering if anything between you was real or if she was just a blemish you needed to erase." Natalie paused. "Do you have any idea what it's like watching your child question her own worth because someone she loved treated her like an option?"

Carmen's throat constricted with guilt. "I never wanted her to feel that way. I was trying to protect her career?—"

"By destroying her emotionally?"

"By making sure she didn't pay professionally for my inability to maintain appropriate boundaries.

" Carmen's voice cracked slightly. "Every evaluation I gave Harper, every recommendation, every opportunity—they'd all be questioned if our relationship became public.

Her reputation would be permanently damaged by the assumption that she earned advancement through personal rather than professional means. "

"And did she?"

The direct question cut through Carmen's defensive explanations. "No. Every evaluation Harper received was based on her surgical skill and medical knowledge. Her abilities are extraordinary, Natalie. She's going to be a brilliant surgeon with or without my involvement."

Natalie's expression hardened slightly. "So you're saying I was wrong? When I told you the relationship had to end?"

Carmen met her friend's challenging gaze. "I'm saying we were both wrong. We were so focused on protecting Harper from potential professional damage that we didn't consider the emotional damage we were causing by forcing her to hide who she loved."

"And now?"

"Now I've spent weeks watching Harper excel without my mentorship, earn recognition from colleagues, and build a professional reputation based entirely on her own abilities. She doesn't need my protection, Natalie. She never did."

Natalie leaned back in her chair, studying Carmen. "What exactly are you asking me, Carmen?"

"I'm asking you to forgive me for handling this situation terribly and to understand that my feelings for Harper aren't casual or exploitative. And I'm asking for your blessing to fight for her openly."

"My blessing?"

Carmen's hands gripped the arms of her chair.

"Harper respects you more than anyone in the world.

Your approval matters to her in ways that go far beyond professional advancement.

If I'm going to approach her, if I'm going to ask for another chance, I need to know that doing so won't cost her your relationship. "

"You're asking me to choose between my friendship with you and my daughter's happiness."

"I'm asking you to consider that they might not be mutually exclusive." Carmen's voice steadied as her conviction grew. "Harper is brilliant, capable, and mature enough to make her own choices about love and relationships. She doesn't need our protection; she needs our support."

Natalie was quiet for a long moment, her fingers drumming against her desk in a rhythm Carmen recognized from their years of friendship. Finally, she spoke. "Harper has been different since the reassignment. Stronger and more confident. Less concerned with proving herself to others."

"She's found her voice."

"She has. And watching her these past weeks, I've realized something." Natalie's voice softened slightly. "I've been treating her like she's still the child I raised instead of the woman she's become."

Carmen felt something ease in her chest. "She's exceptional, Natalie. Not because she's your daughter, but because of who she is as a person and a surgeon."

"I know that. I've always known that. But knowing and accepting are different things." Natalie met Carmen's gaze directly. "If you hurt her again?—"

"I won't. I can't. Losing her once nearly destroyed me. I'm not making that mistake again."

"What does fighting for her openly mean, exactly?"

Carmen took a deep breath. "It means approaching hospital administration about our relationship and following proper disclosure protocols. It means accepting whatever professional consequences come with loving someone who used to be under my supervision."

"And if the consequences are severe?"

"Then I'll deal with them. Harper is worth any risk or administrative hassle. I should have realized that weeks ago."

"You're serious about this."

"Completely. I love your daughter, Natalie. Not the brilliant intern or the promising surgeon, but Harper—the woman who makes me laugh, who challenges my assumptions, who sees possibilities where I see only problems. I want to build a life with her."

"Even if it means changing everything about how you approach your career?"

"Especially then. My career will survive workplace gossip. I'm not sure I'll survive losing Harper permanently."

For the first time since Carmen had entered the office, Natalie's expression held something that might have been approval. "She deserves someone willing to take that kind of risk for her."

"She does. And I'm finally ready to be that person."

Natalie nodded slowly. "Then you have my blessing, Carmen. Not because I approve of how this started, but because I can see that your feelings are genuine. Harper's happiness matters more to me than my comfort with your relationship."

Relief flooded through Carmen's chest so suddenly she felt dizzy. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. You still have to convince Harper to forgive you. And given how badly you hurt her, that's not going to be easy."

Carmen stood, feeling steadier than she had in weeks. "I know. But I'm done being afraid of difficult conversations. Harper deserves someone willing to fight for her, and I'm finally ready to prove I can be that person."

As Carmen reached the door, Natalie's voice stopped her. "Carmen? For what it's worth, I hope this works out. You and Harper. When you weren't hiding from each other, you were good together."

Carmen smiled, the expression feeling genuine for the first time in weeks. "We were, weren't we?"

"Don't lose that again."

Carmen left Natalie's office with something she hadn't felt since Harper walked out of her life: hope. The conversation hadn't erased the damage she'd caused, but it had given her permission to try making things right.

Now she just had to find the courage to approach Harper herself.