Page 9 of Crossing the Line (Phoenix Ridge Medical #6)

"There you are," Natalie said, rising from behind a desk that spoke of years of successful practice.

Awards lined the walls, interspersed with photos of Harper's academic achievements and what looked like thank-you cards from grateful patients.

"How does it feel to be Dr. Langston on your first day? "

The question hit harder than it should have. Harper forced her smile brighter, overcompensating for the guilt clawing at her chest. "Terrifying and exciting in equal measure. Dr. Mars was impressive during orientation."

"Jo’s remarkable. She's transformed this hospital's surgical program." Natalie gestured for Harper to sit in one of the leather chairs facing her desk. "I'm so proud that you'll be part of it."

Harper settled into the chair, hyperaware of how her mother's office reflected everything she'd worked toward: respect, achievement, the kind of professional reputation that took decades to build. The same reputation Harper could destroy with a single confession about Friday night.

"How are the new community outreach programs developing?" Harper asked, desperate to focus on anything other than her own deception. "You sounded so excited about them when we talked last week."

Natalie's face lit up with the particular joy she reserved for discussing medicine.

"Better than I'd hoped. We've expanded the prenatal education workshops, and the partnership with the women's shelter has already helped twelve families access comprehensive care.

It's exactly the kind of integrated approach I've been pushing for since I started building the program here. "

"That's incredible." Harper leaned forward, genuine admiration mixing with guilt-driven enthusiasm. "The community integration aspect must be so rewarding."

"It is. We've partnered with several local organizations to provide comprehensive care.

" Natalie pulled out a folder, her movements efficient and confident.

"Speaking of partnerships, you'll be working with some exceptional physicians during your rotations.

Dr. Riley Parker in trauma surgery is brilliant and has saved more lives than I can count.

Dr. Hassan in emergency medicine has incredible instincts. "

Each name Harper filed away, while trying to ignore the growing dread in her stomach.

"And of course," Natalie continued, her voice taking on a note of particular warmth, "you'll likely work with Carmen Méndez at some point. She's one of our top cardiac surgeons with absolutely exceptional skill and dedication. I've known her for years."

The words hit Harper like a physical blow. Her pen stilled on her notepad, and she felt the blood drain from her face before she could control her reaction. Carmen. Her mother's colleague. Her mother's friend.

"She sounds impressive," Harper managed, proud that her voice remained steady even as her world tilted off its axis.

"She is. Carmen's had a difficult time lately—professional betrayal by a former partner—but she's the most skilled surgeon I've ever worked with. Brilliant mind, impeccable ethics." Natalie's expression grew protective.

Harper's throat felt like sandpaper. Impeccable ethics.

The phrase echoed in her mind alongside Dr. Mars' earlier emphasis on professional integrity.

She was sitting in her mother's office, surrounded by evidence of a career built on trust and competence, while harboring secrets that could destroy relationships spanning years.

"I look forward to learning from her," Harper said, the lie sliding out with practiced ease even as it left a bitter taste on her tongue.

"You will. Carmen has a gift for teaching, though she doesn't take on mentoring responsibilities often." Natalie smiled with obvious affection. "But I'm sure she'll make an exception for you."

The casual assumption of special treatment made Harper's guilt exponentially worse. Her mother had no idea she was recommending her daughter to a woman Harper had already lied to, slept with, and abandoned without explanation.

"Mom," Harper heard herself saying, desperate to change the subject before she broke down entirely, "tell me again why you chose obstetrics."

Natalie's expression softened with familiar warmth. "You know this story. Your birth. The way the medical team made me feel supported during the most vulnerable moment of my life—I knew I wanted to give that to other women."

Harper's chest tightened. She did know this story, had heard it countless times growing up, but hearing it now made her feel the weight of it differently.

Even her existence was tied to her mother's professional calling, another thread in the web of expectations and achievements that defined their relationship.

"You've built something remarkable here," Harper said, and meant it completely.

"We've built something remarkable," Natalie corrected gently. "Everything I've accomplished has been so you could have the opportunities I never dreamed of."

The familiar words were meant as encouragement, but they felt like stones in Harper's chest. Her mother had sacrificed and worked and built this life, this reputation, this network of professional relationships—all so Harper could have the foundation to succeed.

And Harper had already jeopardized it all for one night of feeling like someone else.

"Come on," Natalie said, standing and gathering a folder from her desk. "Let me show you around the surgical wing. You should see where you'll be spending most of your time."

Harper followed her mother through the hospital corridors, grateful for the movement and the familiar rhythm of Natalie's confident stride.

The surgical wing buzzed with controlled activity: nurses in colorful scrubs moving between rooms, residents reviewing charts, the distant sound of monitors creating a backdrop of organized efficiency.

"The cardiac surgery suites are down this hall," Natalie explained, her voice carrying the pride of someone who'd helped build something exceptional. "We have some of the most advanced equipment on the West Coast, and the team here is absolutely world-class."

Harper nodded, taking notes in a pocket notepad more out of nervous habit than necessity. She'd researched every department and protocol, but being here felt different. More real. More dangerous.

"And there's someone I especially want you to meet," Natalie continued, her voice warming with obvious affection. "Carmen should be finishing her morning prep about now."

Carmen. The name hit her like ice water, but she forced herself to keep walking, to keep breathing, to maintain the professional composure that had carried her through the morning.

They approached a surgical suite where Harper could see movement through the observation windows. Her mother's steps quickened with the enthusiasm of someone eager to make introductions, completely oblivious to the panic clawing at Harper's chest.

"Carmen!" Natalie called out as they entered the prep area.

Harper kept her eyes fixed on her notepad, desperately hoping that somehow, impossibly, this would be a different Carmen. That the universe wasn't cruel enough to?—

She felt the weight of a stare, intense and unmistakable.

The sensation crawled up her spine like electricity, demanding attention she desperately didn't want to give.

Harper's training kicked in—the same hyperawareness that served her in surgical settings, the ability to sense when something critical was happening even at the periphery of vision.

Slowly, inevitably, she raised her head.

Carmen stood frozen beside a surgical instrument tray, her surgical mask pulled down to reveal a face gone completely pale. Those dark eyes that had looked at Harper with desire and warmth just two nights ago now stared at her with something approaching horror.

Time crystallized into a single, devastating moment. Harper felt her world tilt off its axis as recognition crashed over both of them like a wave. Carmen's lips parted slightly, as if she might speak, but no sound emerged.

"Carmen, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Harper," Natalie said, her voice bright with maternal pride and professional respect. "Harper, this is Dr. Carmen Méndez, one of the finest cardiac surgeons I've ever had the privilege to work with."

Harper's mouth moved, forming words that felt like broken glass in her throat. "Dr. Méndez, it's an honor."

Carmen's professional mask snapped into place with visible effort, but not before Harper caught the flash of something raw and wounded in her eyes. "Ms. Langston." The formality was deliberate, a wall thrown up between them. "Welcome to Phoenix Ridge."

"Harper's particularly interested in cardiac surgery," Natalie continued, completely missing the undercurrent of tension crackling between them.

"She graduated summa cum laude from Johns Hopkins and finished her residency early.

I've been telling her about your innovative approaches to minimally invasive procedures. "

"Has she?" Carmen's voice was carefully neutral, but Harper caught the slight tremor underneath. "How...interesting."

Harper forced herself to stand straighter and meet Carmen's gaze directly despite the way it made her chest feel like it was caving in. This was Dr. Carmen Méndez. Her mother's colleague. Her mother's friend. The woman she'd lied to, seduced, and abandoned without a word.

"I've read about your research," Harper managed, proud that her voice remained steady. "Your work on arterial reconstruction techniques is groundbreaking."

Something flickered in Carmen's eyes—surprise, perhaps, that Harper actually knew her professional work. But it was quickly replaced by that careful professional distance.

"Dr. Langston is being generous," Carmen said, addressing Natalie rather than Harper directly. "I assume she'll be rotating through cardiac surgery at some point?"

"Absolutely," Natalie beamed. "I was hoping you might take her under your wing when the time comes. Harper could benefit from working with someone of your caliber."

The irony was so sharp it could have drawn blood. Harper watched Carmen's jaw tighten almost imperceptibly, the only sign that she was anything other than perfectly composed.

"We'll see what the schedule allows," Carmen said diplomatically. "If you'll excuse me, I need to review my surgical notes before the next procedure."

She turned back to her instrument tray with dismissive efficiency, effectively ending the conversation. But Harper caught the way her hands trembled slightly as she reached for a chart, the only evidence of the earthquake that had just shattered both their worlds.

"Of course," Natalie said, though Harper detected a note of confusion in her voice. "We should let you prepare. Harper, shall we continue the tour?"

Harper nodded, not trusting herself to speak. As they turned to leave, she felt Carmen's gaze on her back like a brand, burning through her white coat and marking her as exactly what she was: a liar, a fraud, and the woman who'd just made both their lives infinitely more complicated.

The surgical suite door closed behind them with a soft click that sounded like a cell door slamming shut.