“You’re sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” Maggie said, echoing the words she’d spoken six months ago in Sacramento. “We’ve already proven we can maintain professional boundaries. We’ve already survived the scrutiny. This is just the next chapter.”
Evie’s smile was radiant. “Okay. Then I’m doing it. I’m transferring.”
“When will you tell Oakridge?”
“Today. This evening. After rounds.” Evie’s expression turned mischievous. “Morrison’s going to lose his mind. He’s been asking about you constantly. Wants to know if you’re ‘happy’ at Cedar-Sinai. I think he’s fishing for gossip.”
“Tell him I’m thriving,” Maggie said. “And that you’re transferring here because the program is better. Which is true. Oh, and you’re madly in love with me.”
“It is true, all of it.” Evie laughed.
Maggie felt a lump in her throat. Six months ago, she’d been terrified of exactly this—of mixing professional and personal, of risking everything she’d rebuilt for love.
Now she couldn’t imagine it any other way.
“I love you,” Maggie said quietly.
“I love you too,” Evie replied. “Even when you’re annoyingly perfect and put both our coffees on your hospital tab so I can never pay.”
“Someone has to take care of you.”
“Excuse me, I can take care of myself.”
“I know,” Maggie said. “But I like doing it anyway.”
Evie yawned and Maggie was reminded that this was the end of Evie’s long shift and she only had a few hours of sleep before she’d be on again in the afternoon.
“Go, get some sleep,” Maggie said. “I’ll see you tonight?”
“Our place. 10 o’clock at the latest.” Evie stood, then leaned across the table to kiss Maggie—quick and sweet and completely public in the middle of the Cedar-Sinai cafeteria.
A few heads turned. Maggie felt eyes on them, felt the weight of attention and curiosity and probably judgment.
She didn’t care.
She kissed Evie back, then watched her disappear out of the courtyard doors, white coat flying behind her like a cape.
Maggie sat alone for another moment, finishing her coffee, feeling the particular kind of peace that came from knowing you’d made the right choice.
Her phone buzzed again.
Lisa Grant:Lunch next week? I want to hear all about how domestic life is treating you.
Maggie:It’s treating me very well. Tuesday work?
Lisa:Perfect. Also—I’m proud of you. I can’t wait to hear about your new life. You deserve this.
Maggie smiled and pocketed her phone.
She gathered her things and headed toward the internal medicine ward, ready for morning rounds, ready for the controlled chaos of teaching and diagnosing and saving lives.
But first, she pulled out the leather journal Evie had given her for Christmas—the one inscribedFor new beginnings.
She’d been writing in it every night. Not about medicine or cases or the weight of impossible decisions. Just about life. About Evie. About learning to choose living over surviving. About Sarah’s wish finally coming true.
She opened to a fresh page and wrote:
