Page 78 of Sweet Heart

“Pleasure,” Celeste says with a small nod, her ice-blue eyes holding mine.

There is nothing off about her posture, the way she holds herself, or even how her wife is pressed against her. But the way her eyes bore into mine tells me more than words could. She is gauging me, sizing me up. Not aggressively, not even with dominance, but with an air of control. This is not a woman who will blindly follow orders, and that is something I can respect.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” I mirror, and that seems to please her.

She nods once, and then her eyes slide to Mary, briefly, before returning to mine.

“I’ve read your paper on abdominal organ injury brought on by CPR. Did your study consist only of trauma patients?”

Her face is neutral as she waits for my answer. If she wanted to take a jab, this would be the moment she’d smirk, but there is no such indication.

“As noted in the summary, the study included a hundred cases brought into the trauma bay, all with blunt force trauma,” I explain calmly, and her eyebrow rises slightly. “However, to prevent bias, we had it retrospectively compared with a hundred in-house cases at a different hospital, on the other side of the country.”

“LA General,” Isa hums, and my eyes flick to hers. “That happened during my residency. Tracing those cases had a huge impact on how the hospital provided CPR aftercare from that moment on.”

My lip ticks up. Not in victory, not because it establishes my dominance, but because my work made a real difference. That’s the only real thing that matters in this conversation. I nod at her, and she returns the gesture.

“You worked on Cat’s research?” Carmen asks with a gruff voice, and Isa’s cheeks flush before she turns toward my best friend.

“Yes, well, no, well, I helped collect the data…” she stammers, and her voice trails off.

But Carmen’s face lights up like a Christmas tree, and she wraps her fingers around Isa’s elbow.

“Por favor, you have to tell me everything about it. Can I get you something to drink?”

She is already ushering Isa away from us when Mary lets out a soft chuckle. The sound breaks the stunned energy that is suspended in our little circle.

“Well, okay, then,” Daniel concludes, his eyebrows knitting together.

It can’t be easy for him, being used to getting everything he ever wants and thinking it will make all women pine over him, only to be surrounded by lesbians. But if he feels any displeasure, he hides it well. I have to give him that.

“If you ladies will excuse me,” he offers with a honey-sweet voice, “I believe my boss is requesting that I make an appearance at her side.”

His eyes dart toward an older woman in a sleek black dress, the head of the trust, before his bright teeth flash again.

“It was a pleasure. I expect you make generous donations.” He nods toward Celeste and me, before smiling again. “Riley, nice to meet you. Mary, I look forward to hearing more about your books in the future.”

She blushes at that, and I can see why. Even behind all his façade, the comment seems genuine. It’s just a pity that it comes from him.

“You’re an author?” Riley asks, her eyes flicking to Mary, who nods with a small smile. “Oh, come on, then. Tell me about your work while the doctors continue their…” She waves her hand. “Whatever it is they were doing.”

She mimics Carmen’s movements and grabs Mary’s elbow, tugging her slightly toward the bar. Mary’s eyes flick back to mine. There is no fear in them, no hesitation, only the question of whether this is okay. My lips curl up, and I nod at her. She turns as she is dragged along, and allow myself an extra moment to linger my gaze on her frame. Es muy linda. So very beautiful.

“How long have you been together?”

Celeste’s melodic voice pulls at my attention, and I reluctantly turn my head back to face her. It is just us now, but her demeanor hasn’t changed. She is still assessing.

“Four months.” My voice is clipped, suddenly aware that we are skating close to an edge I don’t want to go near.

“Hm,” she hums, her eyes gliding back to where Mary and Riley are standing. “Interesting.”

The hairs on my neck prickle at that, but I don’t respond. There could be a million reasons for her to say that. Plus, any reaction can trigger another question, and I want this conversation to be over.

“How long have you been married?” I counter, knowing most people will back off when the spotlight is on them.

“Ten years this Christmas. How did—”

“What does Riley do for a living?”