5. Lillian #2
Catherine, seated at the head of the table as usual, was in the middle of a discussion about a groundbreaking new procedure she had performed earlier that week.
Her voice was sharp, as it often was when discussing anything to do with surgery.
“The team was fine, but they needed constant direction. Honestly, I don’t know how anyone manages to get through these procedures without my intervention. ”
Lillian picked at her food, half-listening as Catherine continued her monologue.
Roz, the middle sister, leaned back in her chair with an amused smirk. “God, Cat, not everyone is a surgical prodigy. Maybe if you let them breathe for two seconds, they’d figure it out.”
Catherine shot her a withering look. “You don’t ‘breathe’ in the middle of a surgery, Roz. You execute. You save lives.”
Roz rolled her eyes but didn’t press the issue further. She caught Lillian’s eye from across the table and raised an eyebrow. “What about you, Lil? How’s life in the OR as the newest Harrington prodigy?”
Lillian froze, her fork hovering over her plate. “It’s…fine,” she said quickly, trying to keep her voice even. “Just getting used to everything.”
Catherine cut in before Roz could respond. “You need to be more than fine, Lillian. This isn’t a place where you can coast by on your last name.”
The words stung more than Lillian wanted to admit. She knew Catherine didn’t mean to be cruel, but the pressure behind her words felt unbearable. Especially now. Especially after what had just happened.
Olivia, the youngest of her older sisters, offered a soft smile from her place at the table. “You’ll find your footing, Lils. It takes time. Don’t let Cat scare you.”
Catherine huffed. “I’m not trying to scare her. I’m trying to prepare her.”
Lillian forced a smile, though inside she felt like she was drowning. “I know, Catherine.”
But the truth was, she didn’t know. Not really. The lines between what was expected of her and what she wanted were starting to blur, and she wasn’t sure how long she could keep everything under control.
After dinner, Roz pulled Lillian aside, her tone more serious than usual. “You okay, kid?”
Lillian hesitated, torn between the impulse to confide in her sister and the need to keep her secret buried. “Yeah,” she lied. “Just a long week.”
Roz didn’t look convinced but didn’t press the issue. Instead, she gave Lillian a knowing look. “Don’t let Cat get into your head. You don’t have to be her. You don’t have to be any of us. Just…be you.”
Lillian nodded, her throat tightening. She wished it were that simple.
As she walked out of the house that night, her mind returned to Rebecca, to the secret they now shared. She didn’t know how long she could keep up the facade, but one thing was clear: this was only the beginning.
Lillian hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Rebecca since that night in the OR prep room.
The kiss, the heat, the orgasm she had had that was better than anything she had ever felt, the way Rebecca had told her it couldn’t happen again, yet something in her eyes told a different story.
Every interaction since then had been colored by an underlying tension, a simmering connection that neither of them would acknowledge outright.
But Lillian had noticed small cracks in Rebecca’s icy demeanor.
Moments where Rebecca’s professional mask slipped, just for a second.
A lingering glance, a brush of fingers during surgery, a hesitation in her voice that hadn’t been there before.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough to pull Lillian in deeper, leaving her desperate to figure out where they stood.
It was late on Wednesday night, well past the usual shift change.
Lillian had just finished assisting on a particularly challenging surgery, her body aching from hours on her feet.
She scrubbed out, exhausted but buzzing with the adrenaline of a successful procedure.
Rebecca had been in the OR with her, guiding her through the more complex parts, but as usual, Rebecca had kept her distance.
The tension between them had been there, lurking beneath the surface, but nothing had been said.
As Lillian finished drying her hands, she noticed Rebecca standing by the sink, her eyes fixed on the water swirling down the drain.
For a moment, Rebecca seemed almost tired.
Vulnerable, even. It was a rare sight; Rebecca was always so composed, so in control.
But now, in the dim light of the scrub room, she looked.
..almost human. Strands of dark hair had escaped their elastic to fall around her face.
"Long night," Lillian said softly, not expecting a response.
Rebecca’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, and for a moment, the usual sharpness in her gaze was replaced with something softer. Something almost tender.
"It’s always a long night," Rebecca replied, her voice lower than usual. She glanced at Lillian, and for the briefest moment, her hand brushed against Lillian’s arm as she reached for a towel.
The contact was fleeting, but it sent a shiver down Lillian’s spine. There it was again—that crack in Rebecca’s armor. The touch lingered longer in Lillian’s mind than it should have, and as Rebecca turned to leave, Lillian found herself wanting more.
“Dr. Lang,” Lillian called after her, the words escaping before she had a chance to stop them.
Rebecca paused at the door, her hand resting on the handle, but she didn’t turn around.
“Do you need help with the post-op notes?” Lillian asked, knowing full well Rebecca didn’t.
Rebecca stayed still for a moment, her back to Lillian, the silence stretching between them. Finally, she turned, her face unreadable.
“Come by my office,” she said quietly. “In fifteen minutes.”
And with that, Rebecca left the scrub room, leaving Lillian standing there, her heart pounding in her chest.
Fifteen minutes later, Lillian found herself standing outside Rebecca’s office, her hand hovering over the door handle. She wasn’t sure what to expect. Was this just another meeting? Or was there something else lingering beneath the surface? Something neither of them had been willing to address.
Taking a deep breath, she knocked softly before pushing the door open.
Rebecca was seated behind her desk, papers scattered in front of her, but her attention wasn’t on them. She looked up as Lillian entered, her expression guarded, but there was something in her dark eyes that hadn’t been there before.
"Close the door," Rebecca said softly.
Lillian did as she was told, her heart racing as she crossed the room and sat down in the chair opposite Rebecca. The tension was palpable, the air between them thick with everything that hadn’t been said.
They discussed the case at first, Rebecca’s voice as measured and professional as ever. But Lillian could feel the undercurrent of something else, the way Rebecca’s eyes kept flicking toward her, the way her hands fidgeted slightly with the pen.
And then, just as they were wrapping up, Rebecca’s voice softened.
"Lillian," she said quietly, and the use of her first name made Lillian’s heart skip a beat. "You need to know…this is a mistake."
Lillian’s throat tightened, but she couldn’t bring herself to agree. She didn’t feel like it was a mistake. Not when every touch, every glance, made her feel more alive than anything else.
"I know," Lillian whispered, her voice barely audible. "But I don’t want to stop."
Rebecca’s eyes darkened, a flicker of emotion crossing her face before she quickly looked away. She stood up, walking around the desk until she was standing directly in front of Lillian. For a moment, neither of them moved, the weight of their decision hanging in the air.
And then, without warning, Rebecca reached out, her hand cupping Lillian’s jaw, her thumb brushing softly against her cheek. It was the first time Rebecca had touched her with any tenderness, and it sent a rush of warmth through Lillian’s entire body.
"You should go," Rebecca said, but there was no conviction in her voice.
Lillian didn’t move.
Instead, she stood, closing the distance between them, her hands resting lightly on Rebecca’s waist. "Tell me to leave," Lillian whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "And I will."
Rebecca’s eyes flicked to Lillian’s lips, and for a moment, it looked like she might push her away.
But then, with a sharp intake of breath, Rebecca pulled her closer, their lips crashing together in a kiss that felt as inevitable as it was forbidden—heat, teeth, the taste of coffee and risk.
For a heartbeat she let it happen, let the pressure of Lillian’s mouth answer everything she hadn’t been willing to say.
And then Rebecca froze.
The hum of the fluorescent light seemed suddenly loud; a trolley rattled somewhere down the corridor. She broke the kiss first—clean, decisive—and pressed her palm flat to Lillian’s sternum to keep her from following.
“No.” Her voice was low and steady, more control than apology. “Not here. Not like this.”
Lillian’s breath hitched. “Rebecca?—”
“If we do this now, we don’t come back from it,” Rebecca said, not looking away. “There are cameras. Colleagues. My name on a dozen doors. Yours on a dozen reports. I’m not losing either of us to one bad decision in a bright room.”
She smoothed Lillian’s hair back, an unconscious, almost tender gesture at odds with the space she was putting between them, then stepped away another inch, shoulders squaring as the mask slid back into place.
“Wash your hands,” she said quietly. “Count to sixty. Then go out first.”
Lillian swallowed, the sting of the stop colliding with the throb of want, but she nodded.
Rebecca’s mouth twitched—something like regret, something like promise. “This isn’t a no,” she added, softer. “It’s a not here.”