Page 22 of Her Desire (Pulse Medical #3)

“I’ve always been happy with what I do, Mom.” Holly’s voice was soft, tight. “Everyone has their role to play in the operating room.”

“Of course, dear,” Magda replied, her voice polite but as cold as ice.

“I just want you to have the best opportunities. You know that, don’t you?

You know how much your father and I care about you, your success, and your future.

And now that you’re in your thirties, we were hoping—well, expecting really—that you’d start thinking seriously about settling down with someone.

A nice man.” Gianna’s stomach churned at the thought of a nice man wrapping his arms around Holly.

“Someone who understands your work, who wants a family, children?—”

“I’m gay,” Holly said it fast, sharp, exactly like ripping that band-aid off, the kind of interruption that made even the air go still.

Magda blinked. Her mouth fell slightly open, and whatever she was about to say next completely dissolved on her tongue.

Even Gianna didn’t have words. She also didn’t dare breathe. Her hand, which had been resting gently against her knee, curled into a fist beneath the table.

“Y-you’re… You’re what?” Magda asked after several too-long seconds as if she’d misheard. As if Holly had said something as benign as going to see a movie at the cinema this weekend.

“I said I’m gay,” Holly repeated slower this time, her voice even. “I like women. I met someone.” She didn’t glance at Gianna, and she didn’t say her name. Still, Gianna sat up straighter and tried to school her face into something calm, supportive, and neutral.

Inside she was anything but.

Magda looked between them, making her own deductions. First, at her daughter, then,

at Gianna, and then back again. Her expression didn’t twist, contort, or explode. There was no outrage. No dramatic gasp. Just a long pause, which was somehow worse.

“I see,” Magda said finally, pointedly, as if it pained her to say anything at all. She took a careful sip of her water and placed the glass down. “That is…unexpected.”

And if Gianna had to guess, she was willing to bet unexpected was just code for unacceptable.

Silence fell over the table again, long and stiff. Gianna could practically hear the buzz of the café lights above them and the clang of mugs being stacked behind the counter. A toddler wailed somewhere near the back, and the sound was almost a relief.

Magda smoothed her palms over the polished surface of the table. “Excuse me,” she said, standing, her chair scraping back with a low groan.

Holly’s head snapped up. “Mom, wait?—”

But Magda was already adjusting the strap of her purse over her shoulder, and Gianna knew exactly what was going to happen next and it put a sinking feeling in the bottom of her stomach.

Magda didn’t look at Holly. Didn’t glance at Gianna. She just walked—slowly, as if she’d recently hurt her back—straight toward the door.

“Mom!” Holly called again, louder this time. She was halfway out of her seat. “Can you just—please, can you just stop?”

But Magda didn’t turn. Didn’t even so much as flinch, and before Gianna could stand up for Holly, could tell her that no one deserved to be walked away from for telling the truth about who they loved, the café door shut behind her.

For a moment, Holly sat perfectly still, staring at the door like maybe her mother would walk back through, as if she was hoping Magda would realize just how ridiculous she was being for reacting like that when her daughter confessed to something so tender, so vulnerable it should only ever be met with grace.

But no. The door stayed closed. The street beyond it was unmoved and life outside The Daily Grind carried on just like Gianna knew would happen.

That fucking sucked. Because Holly—sweet, brave, beautiful Holly—looked like she’d just been cracked open and didn’t know how to keep all the pieces from spilling out.

Gianna shifted sideways in her seat and reached for Holly’s wrist resting on the table. “I’m sorry,” she said, because what else was there to say other than to apologize for Magda’s actions. For not speaking up sooner when she maybe should have.

Holly looked up at her. She didn’t cry, though Gianna could see that she was trying not to. “She just left,” she whispered. “Didn’t even look at me. Didn’t even say goodbye.”

“I know,” Gianna said softly. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

But her reply wasn’t enough. None of it was.

Gianna looked down at her hand still wrapped around Holly’s wrist. She had surgeon’s hands, hands that could clamp a bleeding artery in a twelve-ounce preemie and yet they were completely useless now.

No squeeze. No tender touch would ever be enough to slice through this kind of pain.

“I knew she’d react badly,” Holly murmured. “I thought I prepared myself for it. Told myself that I wouldn’t care what she thought. But now…” She trailed off and looked away, instead staring at something in the distance. “I honestly didn’t think it would hurt this much.”

“At least you still said it,” Gianna replied. “At least you were true to yourself.”

“But was it worth it?” Holly asked, her voice brittle.

The simple answer was yes. Always. No question about it. But sometimes being true to yourself came at a cost. Sometimes you lost people in the process and sometimes it hurt like hell.

“I think it’s going to feel awful for a while,” Gianna said softly. “And I think you’re going to question it more times than you’ll want to admit. But someday, you’re going to look back and be proud that you didn’t stay quiet just to keep someone else comfortable.”

Holly seemed to consider it for a moment. Her gaze flicked down to Gianna’s mouth and stayed there long enough to make Gianna forget how to breathe,

Then slowly, as she’d just made up her mind about something she’d been circling, Holly looked down at Gianna’s hand on hers. “I think it was worth it,” she whispered, turning her palm over to thread their fingers together, holding on like it was the only solid thing in the world.

And Gianna let her. Because she loved her. She loved Holly.

Not that she would admit it, of course. It was too soon, and besides, this would be the worst moment to confess something like that.

Whatever pain Holly was feeling right now, she needed to deal with it; feel it, process it, and maybe even scream into a pillow.

What she didn’t need was Gianna springing a three-syllable emotional bomb on her.

“Seeing as we both have the day off,” Gianna said, instead, “Let’s do something fun. Something you’ve never done since moving here.”

Holly pressed her lips thin and for a second Gianna half expected her to turn down the idea. But then a soft smile appeared on her face. “I’ve never taken the ferry ride downtown.”

“Done,” Gianna said, already tracking down the waiter.