Page 70 of Crossing the Line
"Very reasonable," Carmen agreed. "We appreciate you working with us on this."
"I'm not finished," Dr. Mars said with a slight smile. "You'll also both need to attend a professional relationships workshop within the next month, which covers boundary management and conflict resolution for couples working in the same institution."
Harper felt heat rise in her cheeks. "A workshop?"
"It's standard protocol for any disclosed workplace relationship. Nothing punitive, just practical guidance for maintaining professionalism while building a personal life together."
"We can do that," Carmen said, squeezing Harper's hand.
Dr. Mars stood, signaling the end of their meeting. "I'll have the paperwork ready by tomorrow morning. You can both sign the disclosure agreements and review the specific guidelines we've established."
As they prepared to leave, Dr. Mars' expression warmed slightly. "For what it's worth, I think you're handling this correctly. Honesty and partnership are good foundations for both professionalandpersonal relationships."
Walking out of Dr. Mars' office, Harper felt the weight she’d been carrying since her first day at the hospital finally lift from her chest. They'd faced the professional challenge together as equals and had emerged with a clear path forward.
"So," Harper said as they stepped into the hospital corridor, "how does it feel to be in an officially disclosed relationship?"
Carmen smiled, the expression transforming her face with genuine happiness. "Terrifying.” She chuckled. “And wonderful and exactly what I should have chosen days ago. Thank you for giving me another chance to prove I can be the partner you deserve."
Harper stood on her toes and kissed Carmen softly, right there in the hospital hallway where anyone could see. "Thank you for finally being ready to fight for us."
They had paperwork to sign, workshops to attend, and probably some hospital gossip to weather. But they would face it all together as partners in every sense of the word.
It felt like the beginning of everything they'd been too afraid to build before.
The walk back to Carmen's townhouse through Phoenix Ridge's winding streets felt like floating. Harper's hand was warm in Carmen's, their fingers interlaced with the natural ease of two people who'd finally stopped pretending they didn't belong together. The evening air carried salt from the harbor and the faint scent of lavender from the café district, but Harper was only aware of the woman beside her and the giddy disbelief bubbling in her chest.
"I can't believe you actually did it," Harper said, her voice bright with wonder as they turned onto Carmen's street. "You stood up in front of half the Phoenix Ridge lesbian community and declared your love for me like some romantic movie hero, then in front of Dr. Mars."
Carmen squeezed her hand, a laugh escaping that sounded younger than Harper had ever heard from her. "I can't believe it took me so long. Julia was right that I've been hiding from living my life."
Harper felt a flutter of joy. At twenty-six, she'd thought she understood love from textbooks and observation, but this—walking hand-in-hand with someone who'd chosen her publicly, professionally, completely—felt like discovering a new language.
"What are you thinking about?" Carmen asked as they approached the familiar gray townhouse with its perfect landscaping.
"That I'm probably going to wake up tomorrow and discover this was all some elaborate dream," Harper admitted. "Six hours ago, I thought I'd lost you forever. Now we're officially disclosed and walking to your house like any normal couple."
"We're hardly normal," Carmen said with a smile that made Harper's pulse quicken. "But maybe that's what makes this worth fighting for."
Carmen's townhouse looked different in the evening light, warmer somehow than Harper remembered from their previous encounters. As Carmen unlocked the front door, Harper felt a flutter of nervous anticipation.
"Would you like some coffee?" Carmen asked, the question carrying an echo of their first night together. "Or wine? I think I have that pinot you liked."
"Coffee sounds perfect," Harper said, following Carmen into the familiar kitchen. "I've had enough wine for one evening."
Carmen moved through the familiar motions of brewing coffee, but Harper could see the tension in her shoulders, the careful way she arranged mugs and measured grounds. They'd made their public declaration, navigated the administrative requirements, and committed to building a future together.
But now, alone in Carmen's space, they had to figure out how to be with each other without the weight of secrecy or the urgency of crisis.
They walked together to the couch, setting their coffee mugs on the coasters carefully to avoid spilling the liquid inside thencurling up next to each other. They sat silently for a few minutes, sipping their coffees.
Carmen spoke first. “You know, I spent weeks thinking I'd destroyed the best thing that ever happened to me. Now I'm sitting here wondering if I'm brave enough to deserve another chance."
Harper turned to face Carmen directly, taking in the uncertainty in her dark eyes. "You were brave tonight. At Lavender's Cafe and in Dr. Mars' office. You fought for us publicly, exactly like I asked you to."
"I should have done it before." Carmen's hand found Harper's, their fingers intertwining with natural ease. "I should have realized that loving you was worth any professional complication."
"But you did realize it in the end. That's what matters." Harper squeezed Carmen's fingers. "We both made mistakes, Carmen. I lied about who I was, and you retreated when things got complicated. But we're here now, choosing each other and being honest about it."
