Page 16 of Crossing the Line
"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.
5
CARMEN
Carmen's hands moved through the motions of surgical preparation with practiced precision, but her mind felt like it was underwater. The surgical notes for her eleven o'clock cardiac repair blurred on the screen as she tried to focus on arterial reconstruction protocols instead of the way Hailey—no, Harper—had looked at her with those dark eyes that had seemed so honest two nights ago.
Healthcare administration. The lie sat bitter in her memory. Twenty-nine. Another fabrication, delivered with the same easy confidence that had made Carmen forget every rule she'd built her life around.
She reached for her surgical planning tablet, fingers trembling slightly as she pulled up the patient files. Mrs. Rodriguez, sixty-three, triple bypass revision. Complex but routine. The kind of surgery Carmen could perform in her sleep, which was fortunate because her conscious mind kept fracturing into fragments of Friday night.
Harper's laugh in the darkness. The weight of her body, warm and soft against Carmen's side. "You're extraordinary,"delivered with such simple sincerity that Carmen had believed it completely.
"Focus," she whispered to the empty prep room, but her voice sounded foreign in the clinical space.
The patient imaging loaded on her screen: clear arterial blockages, straightforward approach, minimal complications expected. Carmen had performed hundreds of these procedures. Her success rate was exceptional, her technique refined through years of careful practice. This should have been automatic.
