Page 62 of Crossing the Line
The distinction resonated through Harper's chest like a bell finally ringing true. She'd been so grateful for Carmen's attention, so desperate to prove herself worthy, that she'd accepted scraps instead of demanding the whole meal.
Harper looked around the café one more time, but now she saw possibility instead of loss. These couples weren't reminders of what she lacked; they were examples of what she deserved. Love that didn't require hiding. Partnership that faced challenges together instead of retreating into separate corners.
"I've been thinking about this all wrong," Harper said, surprised by the strength in her own voice. "I've been trying to convince Carmen I was worth loving openly. But the problem isn't my worthiness. It's her willingness to be brave."
"And you can't make someone else brave," Lavender observed. "You can only be brave yourself and see who's willing to meet you there."
The fog had thickened outside, making their conversation feel sacred. Harper felt something settling in her chest. She couldn't control Carmen's choices, but she could choose for herself.
"I'm done accepting less than I deserve," Harper said, and heard the determination in her own voice. "If Carmen can't see what we could have built together, that's her loss. I won't spend my life trying to convince someone to be brave enough to love me."
"Good," Lavender said, squeezing Harper's hand. "You deserve someone who fights for you, not someone who hides from you."
As Harper prepared to leave, she felt lighter than she had in days. The wine had helped, but more than that, Lavender's wisdom had helped her see the situation clearly. She wasn'tasking for too much by wanting to be loved openly. She was asking for exactly what love should provide: partnership, courage, and the security that came from being chosen completely.
Outside, the fog had grown thick enough to muffle the sounds of Phoenix Ridge settling into night. But Harper walked through it with purpose, no longer lost in someone else's fears. Tomorrow, she would prove herself in trauma surgery. She would excel not to win Carmen back, but to demonstrate the worth that had always been there.
And if Carmen eventually realized what she'd lost, she'd have to prove she was worthy of Harper's love, not the other way around.
The thought felt like stepping into her own power for the first time in her adult life.
Harper's apartment looked different in the morning light streaming through her windows. She moved through her routine with purpose, and for the first time since Carmen's rejection, she felt like the protagonist of her own story.
The conversation with Lavender had settled into her bones. Harper wasn't broken or unworthy; she'd simply been accepting less than she deserved from someone too afraid to offer more.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Alice:"Coffee before rounds? You seemed off yesterday."
Harper typed back:"Tomorrow? Big day ahead."
For weeks, she'd been deflecting her colleagues' concern, unable to share the most important part of her life because it was wrapped in Carmen's secrets. But Harper had nothing to be ashamed of—she'd loved someone completely and authentically.
In the shower, Harper let the hot water wash away the last traces of self-doubt. She'd proven her surgical competence under Dr. Parker's supervision with skill that had nothing to do with her mother's reputation or Carmen's mentorship. Her abilities were her own.
Getting dressed felt like putting on new skin. Harper caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror and saw strength where there had been uncertainty and determination where there had been desperation.
She was Harper Langston: brilliant surgeon and a woman worthy of being loved completely. If Carmen couldn't see that, the problem wasn't Harper's inadequacy; it was Carmen's failure of vision.
The walk to Phoenix Ridge General took longer than usual through the quiet streets. But where Harper had once dreaded navigating hospital corridors where she might glimpse Carmen's retreating figure, now she felt ready to face whatever the day brought. She belonged in that hospital not because of who her mother was or who had evaluated her work, but because she'd earned her place through skill and dedication that no one could diminish.
The trauma wing was buzzing as Harper arrived for rounds. Dr. Parker stood reviewing overnight cases with the efficiency Harper had learned to appreciate, her sharp focus creating an environment where excellence was expected rather than hoped for.
"Langston," Dr. Parker said as Harper approached. "You're early."
"Yes, ma'am. I wanted to review yesterday's cases and prepare for whatever comes today."
Dr. Parker's eyebrows rose slightly, something that might have been approval flickering in her expression. "Good. We've got a full schedule, and I need someone who's completelypresent. Yesterday you were competent but distracted. What's different about today?"
Harper met her supervisor's direct gaze without flinching. "Today I remember why I became a surgeon. Not to prove myself to anyone else, but because I'm good at saving lives."
Something shifted in Dr. Parker's expression—recognition of an intern who'd finally found her footing. "Excellent. Let's see if you can maintain that focus when things get complicated."
The morning flew by in a blur that felt effortless for the first time in weeks. Harper assisted with a motor vehicle accident victim, managed multiple trauma consults, and handled each case with the natural competence that had always been there beneath her anxiety about external approval. Her hands were steady, her decisions sound, and her interactions with colleagues carried the quiet confidence of someone who belonged exactly where they were.
During a brief break between cases, Harper found herself in the hospital corridor where she'd once lingered outside Carmen's office like a ghost. But today, she walked past the cardiac wing without slowing down. Carmen was somewhere in that maze of examination rooms and surgical suites, probably wondering why Harper no longer sought her approval or tried to catch her attention.
Let her wonder. Harper was done making herself small to accommodate someone else's fear.
"Dr. Langston?" a voice called behind her.
