Page 47 of After Everything
And she'd kept every boundary she'd set with me. Stayed professional. Didn't engage beyond what was necessary. Made it clear that this was about Maria, not about us.
Exactly what I'd asked for… and exactly what I deserved.
So why did it hurt so much?
My phone buzzed. An email notification.
From:Emma Peterson, NP-C To: David Harrison Subject: Maria Rodriguez - Medical Documentation
Mr. Harrison,
As promised, please find attached the medical documentation for your client, Maria Rodriguez. The report includes findings from today's examination, photographic evidence of injuries, assessment for trauma, and my professional opinion regarding the pattern of abuse.
If you need any clarification or have questions regarding the medical findings, please don't hesitate to contact the clinic.
I'm available to provide testimony if the court requires it. Please let me know the hearing date and time at your earliest convenience.
Best regards,
Emma Peterson,
NP-C
Riverview Women's Health
Professional.Clinical. Exactly what I'dexpect from any healthcare provider working on a legal case.
Exactly what Emma would do.
I opened the attachment. The report was thorough, detailed, devastating. Emma had documented everything… the bruises, the old scars, the pattern of escalating violence. She'd included medical photographs, a trauma assessment, and a clear statement that in her professional opinion, Maria was at significant risk.
It was perfect. Exactly what we needed to win this case. To keep Maria and her kids safe.
I saved the file and started drafting the motion for the restraining order, all while trying not to think about the fact that Emma had been twenty feet away from me today and had felt a thousand miles distant.
I tried not to think about how she'd looked at Maria with such kindness and at me with nothing at all. I tried to remember that this was what growth looked like: respecting boundaries, accepting consequences. Letting her move on.
Even if moving on meant I'd never bemore to her than a name she’d use to start an e-mail with. Mr. Harrison. Not David. Not even the cold distance of her ex-husband.
Just… just Mr. Harrison. A professional contact. Someone she'd help because helping people was what she did.
And nothing more.
CHAPTER 15: EMMA
Connor was telling me about Seattle.
"The rain is real," he said, cutting into his chicken. "Everyone warns you, but you don't really get it until you've lived through six straight weeks of gray skies. I was buying vitamin D supplements in bulk by February."
I laughed. "That bad?"
"Worse. But the coffee culture makes up for it. I gained ten pounds just from trying every café in a three-mile radius." He grinned. "Worth it, though."
We were at Marcello's, a Italian place downtown that had been on my list for months. White tablecloths, dim lighting,that low murmur of conversation that made everything feel intimate without being overwhelming. Connor had made the reservation three days ago, picked me up at seven, complimented my dress without being weird about it.
He was doing everything right.
"So what brought you back?" I asked, taking a sip of my wine. "Besides the lack of sunshine?"
