We take our coffee cups out to the porch. The night is cold, so we both wear our jackets. I even have a blanket over my lap.
Rhys sits beside me on the patio swing. “This is nice.”
“It is.” I sip my coffee, glancing at him. “It’s been a while.”
He nods. “Too long.”
We sway in quiet rhythm. The wooden swing creaks. The air smells of firewood burning.
I take a deep breath. “I need help, Rhys.”
His gaze sharpens. “Okay. Tell me what you need.”
So, I do, pushing down the voice in my head that calls me a complainer.
You’re not nagging, Jayne. You’re asking for help.
I tell him about running nonstop seven days a week, how the weekdays crush me with a hundred small moving parts—drop-offs, deadlines, dinners that somehow don’t make themselves. How I’m always chasing something I or someone else has forgotten. How every time a schedule shifts, it lands on me to fix it, rearrange it, and make it work.
“Finn’s soccer practice got moved two days ago. I had to rush to pick him up…and hand the client I was in the middle of speaking with over to Daniel.”
“You called when that happened.” He’s not defensive at all, and that surprises me.
“I did.”
“I couldn’t take your call.” He sounds as tired as I feel. “I was with a patient’s family. He didn’t make it.”
How do I compete with that?
“I’m sorry,” he says softly. I know he means it.
I push the swing with my feet and drink more coffee, because I don’t know how to continue now.
How do I talk about mundane things like clothes in the dryer and endless grocery lists when he’s talking to people who have lost a family member?
“I should help you more,” he murmurs after a while. “I…there are other cardiac surgeons at Camden, I’m your only husband.”
I jerk my head, give him a long, deliberate look.
Did he just say that?It shows remarkable insight and buoys me.
“I just can’t do it all at home, Rhys. I know you think I should stay home and not work, but I enjoy my job. I want to?—”
His hand settles gently on my thigh, and the words catch in my throat. “I know, baby,” he tells me softly. “And I’m sorry for making it sound like your job isn’t important. It is. It matters to you…and what matters to you is important to me.”
He’s saying all the right things, and a part of me is giddy with joy while another is afraid that it’s all a performance. We’ll have a very serious line-in-the-sand talk, and things will be better for a minute, and then it’ll be back to square one.
Stop with the negativity, Jayne. Give him a chance. You know Rhys. He’s not one to just say things he doesn’t mean. And you love him. You know he loves you. You have to have more faith.
“I can pick up Finn on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” he continues. “I can move things around, and I’ll take care of Sundays if you can handle Saturdays.”
That’s generous, more than I imagined. It’s fair. It’s reasonable. It’s exactly what I asked for. And yet….
“Are you sure?”
He smiles. “Yes, Jayne, I amverysure.” He cups my cheek. “I’m going to do everything I can to lighten your load.”
That irks me.
