“I’ve been thinking,” she adds after a long pause. “About what you said.”
“What did I say?” I ask cautiously, like I’m threading a catheter through scar tissue. One wrong move and….
“Maybe you were right,” she says.
“Right about what?”
“I think…you’re right…. We need some time apart.”
It takes a second for the words to register. When they do, the air leaves my lungs. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Rhys—”
“No.” I stand. “No fucking way, Jayne.”
She meets my gaze. “You said it yourself.”
“I said something stupid.” My hands roll into fists. “Something I regretted the second it came out. Don’t give it value it doesn’t deserve.”
She exhales, shoulders sagging. “Do you know how often I feel like I have no value in this marriage?”
That guts me. I move to sit beside her, take her hands in mine.
“You have value.” I want her to know that my day starts with her and ends with her, even when I’m being an ass. “Always. You’re everything.”
Her chin trembles. “You think my job is useless.”
I let out a long breath, shaking my head slowly. “It’s just that my schedule’s insane, and when yours is, too, everything gets harder. That’s all.”
Even to my ears, it sounds hollow.
“Come on, baby.” I tighten my grip on her hands. “We’re worth it. Don’t you want to fight for us?”
Her gaze doesn’t waver. “I’ve been fighting, Rhys. Every day. Every minute. Just to keep this marriage standing. You’re the one who doesn’t fight. You just…leave.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
She’s right. I do leave. I say things like I’m too tired to talk about this or that. As soon as a conversation becomes hard, I check out. I don’t have the bandwidth for it.
Well, Dr. Prescott, you’re all out of oxygen and excuses now.
“I’m not saying this to hurt you.” Her expression folds in on itself, quiet and raw. “But what you said to her…it broke me. You gave her what I deserve. Your honesty.”
Tears sting my eyes. “Jayne, if I overheard you venting to Iris, would I?—”
“Iris isn’t someone trying to get into my pants,” she snaps before I can finish.
“I don’t care about her or what she wants.” A chill runs up my spine at the thought that she thinks Tory and I?—
“Tell me you know that.”
“I do know that.” She pulls her hands from mine. My relief at that is short-lived as she continues. “Rhys, I love you. I know you love me. But we’re both unhappy. I don’t want to keep living like this.”
“I’ll do better,” I promise urgently. “We can fix this. Therapy, whatever it takes?—”
There’s a flicker of something broken in her eyes, and that silences me.
“I think we both need to clear our heads first. Figure out what we actually want. Thenmaybetherapy.”
