Maggie sighed. “Old habits.”
“Come on, talk to me,” Evie said, leading her to the couch. The pasta could wait.
They sat facing each other, Evie’s hands holding Maggie’s loosely, giving her an anchor. Her fingers tracing over the skin on her hand.
“I’m waiting for it to fall apart,” Maggie admitted. “For you to wake up one morning and realize this is too complicated. Too messy. Too much work. Part of me feels you deserve more.”
“That’s your fear talking,” Evie said gently. “Not reality.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I wake up every morning and choose this,” Evie said. “Choose you. Even when you’re impossible. Even when you’re scared. Especially when you’re scared. I’m in this, you know. For real.”
Maggie’s throat tightened. “What if I can’t stop being scared? I don’t want to shut down on you, but sometimes I feel my emotions tightening.”
“Then you’ll be scared,” Evie said simply. “And I’ll be here anyway.”
The certainty in her voice made something loosen in Maggie’s chest.
“You’re stuck with me now, so get used to it, okay?” Evie smiled as she slowly kissed Maggie.
Every kiss sent shivers through her body.
They ate dinner on the couch, Evie curled into Maggie’s side, recounting her day—the difficult central line placement, Patel’s unexpected praise, the way Morrison had actually apologized for being an ass in the cafeteria.
“He apologized?” Maggie asked, surprised.
“Apparently someone told him I’d documented his missed diagnoses,” Evie said with a smirk. “Funny how that works.”
“You’re terrifying when you want to be.”
“I learned from the best.”
Day fourteen brought the first real test.
Evie came home just after eight, her jaw tight, shoulders rigid in a way that made Maggie immediately set down her book.
“Bad day in the office?” Maggie asked, crossing to her.
“Something like that.” Evie dropped her bag and shrugged out of her jacket with more force than necessary.
Maggie waited, giving her space.
“Morrison cornered me after rounds,” Evie finally said, pacing to the window. “Started asking questions about us. About whether we’re still seeing each other. About whether that’s ‘appropriate’ given your suspension. He’s a fucking jerk.”
Maggie felt ice slide down her spine. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him to fuck off and mind his own business,” Evie said. “But he’s not the only one talking. Half the residents have theories. Some think we broke up. Some think we’re secretly together. Morrison thinks you’re manipulating me.”
“Jesus,” Maggie breathed.
“And you know what the worst part is?” Evie turned to face her, eyes bright with unshed tears. “Part of me wondered if he was right. If you are manipulating me. If I’m just so caught up in wanting this that I can’t see clearly. How crazy is that? I don’t even know how my mind went there”
The words hit like a physical blow.
Maggie crossed to her immediately, hands gentle on her shoulders. “Evie, look at me.”
Evie did, and Maggie saw the doubt there—not about her feelings, but about whether those feelings were real or manufactured by power dynamics and complicated circumstances.
