"Fine. Just the usual politics." He accepted a menu from the waiter and immediately set it aside. "How's the protocol going?"
"Good. Really good, actually." Calla smiled at me across the table, and even after six months, that smile still made my heart twist and turn and do embarrassing things. "We submitted the final draft to the medical board last week. The implementation will start next month across three departments."
"And you're both still speaking to each other?" Mireya asked, her tone dry.
"Most days…" I grinned. "Some days I want to throw her revisions out the window."
"Only because you're unreasonably stubborn about triage algorithms."
I smirked. "I'm not stubborn. I'm correct."
"You're both," Mireya observed, giggling. "But at least you're consistent."
Riven flagged down the waiter and ordered a bottle of wine for the table. When it arrived, he poured four glasses and raised his.
"To the protocol," he said. "And to the two idiots who almost destroyed their careers fighting for it."
"Heartwarming as always," Calla said laughing.
We clinked glasses and drank.
The evening unfolded the way our dinners together always did now. Easy conversation flowing between courses. We shared stories from the hospital that made us laugh until we couldn't breathe. Talked about arguments on medical procedures that got heated and then dissolved into affection.
Somewhere between the main course and dessert, I found myself watching Calla across the table. She was deep inconversation with Riven about administrative oversight, their heads bent together as they traded ideas back and forth. Riven was nodding thoughtfully at something she'd said, and Calla was sketching something on a napkin to illustrate her point. No tension. No defensiveness. Just two sharp minds finding common ground.
Six months ago, she would have kept her opinions guarded and swallowed her ideas, retreating behind the walls she'd spent her whole life building.
But she was opening up now. She learned to laugh loudly, allowing herself to be seen the way she never had before.
And I loved her more for it every day.
"You're staring," Mireya pointed teasingly, leaning close enough that only I could hear.
"I know."
"It's sweet. Slightly nauseating, but sweet."
I shook my head. "I'll take it."
She smiled, her eyes moving to Riven, who was now nodding at something Calla had written on the napkin. The same softness I felt looking at Calla was there in Mireya's expression. The same wonder at having found someone worth keeping.
"I never thanked you properly," I said. "For what you did during the ethics review and for talking to Riven. You stayed with Calla when she needed a friend."
"You've thanked me at least twelve times."
"Thirteen now."
Mireya shook her head, but her smile widened. "You two were always going to find your way back to each other. I just helped clear some of the obstacles."
"The obstacles were pretty significant."
"The obstacles were bureaucracy and fear. Both are conquerable." She nudged my shoulder. "Love was never theproblem. You just had to stop being scared of it long enough to let it work."
Dessert arrived. Four plates of something chocolate and elaborate that the waiter described in terms I didn't fully understand. Calla moaned at her first bite, and I nearly choked on my wine.
"That good?" Riven asked, amused.
"Better than good. This is transcendent." She pushed her plate toward me. "Try it."
