Page 86 of Sweet Heart

“I have to… they…”

She starts to shake, and now I am really alarmed. I push myself up and pull her into my arms instead. Her hands wrap around my waist, and she presses her cheek against my chest, her face still a frozen mask of… fear?

“I have to appear in front of the committee,” she finally manages, her voice catching on the last word.

“The… the committee? That can be a good thing, right? Maybe Daniel put in—”

“It wasn’t Daniel.”

Her voice is rough and sharp. So sharp that I instantly go quiet. She squeezes her eyes shut, and I feel her fingers curl as if she is giving herself a reprimand.

“Sorry, baby… it… it wasn’t Daniel.”

“Then who was it? What’s happening?”

She shudders, and now her eyes find mine, brimming with tears.

“I’ve been accused of misconduct.”

“Misconduct?” I squeak, instantly offended for her. “What? Why? If anybody lives by hospital policy, it’s you, Cat. I’ve never met a doctor who is so—”

“That’s exactly the problem, Mary.”

She pulls away from me.

“I was your doctor when we met,” she says flatly. “That’s the misconduct.”

Chapter 31

Cat

The vein at my temple pulsates with every step I take. I received the formal notice within ten minutes of the phone call. An invitation to a closed meeting regarding a possible boundary violation with a former patient. No official charges yet, but a hearing to determine whether they’d push it to the board. Just like that, all my hard work and everything I had built crumpled in front of me.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. And yet…

I run my hands over my blouse again, trying to smooth it out. I can’t walk in there looking like a—

“Baby,” Mary whispers as her hand slides over mine. “You are fidgeting.”

I open my mouth to snap at her. To tell her I have earned every little right to fidget. But her blue eyes are filled with concern, and the crease between her eyebrows is so deep that all the fight instantly leaves me when I look at her.

She has been on edge, too, ever since I received the phone call. She tried to come up with all different kinds of scenarios where this would play out in the best possible way, and every single time, I had to explain to her why it was highly unlikely. She even offered to speak on my behalf, and her heart broke when I told her that this wasn’t going to be some movie scene where she could storm in and save the day. These meetings are behind closed doors for a reason. Then she told me to lie. Flat out deny the allegations. That’s where I reminded her of the gala.

I saw her world shatter at the realization that there is no way out of this. That our relationship became public the moment she walked through those doors with me. Doors she was so adamant about. And that’s when the fear underneath it all came out. What if I resented her for it?

But how could I? How could I resent the woman who, in the span of five months, became the focus of my life? This woman who has owned my heart since the moment she set foot in this ER because she was too stubborn to crash? Yes, I would resent losing my career, but not her. Never her.

“Nerves,” I croak finally, and Mary’s fingers tangle with mine.

“How can I help?”

I huff a little. A part of me is annoyed at the question. The part that is used to solving problems like these on my own. But another part wants to bury my face in her neck so that she can hold me. The way she held me when my father called to grill me after he found out.

“Who is this woman, hija?”

Those were the first words out of his mouth, and I instantly knew Mamá was not with him.

“Dad, how did you even—”