He’s driving.
After dessert, he reaches across the table, brushing his thumb over my knuckles.
“I know we’re not okay,” he says quietly. “But tonight…I wanted you to see that we’re still us. Somewhere under all the crap.”
His honesty disarms me.
“I remember,” I whisper. “I just…don’t know if remembering is enough.”
“It won’t be.” His thumb keeps moving in slow, steady circles as he adds cryptically, “But it will still be us.”
Since we both feel like we overate—the dessert was incredibly filling—we walk out onto the waterfront.
The breeze lifts my hair, and the night feels gentler than it did a few hours ago.
Rhys slips his hand into mine, and we stroll together like a couple on a date.
CHAPTER 20
Rhys
The first thing I notice when I wake on Monday morning is the faint citrus scent of Jayne’s perfume clinging to my skin. We fell asleep tangled up—her head on my chest, my hand in her hair—like we used to a lifetime ago.
This past weekend was good.
But it was also just one weekend.
And we both know it.
Even the fucking mattress knows it.
Jayne deserves more than a fancy dinner and a handful of apologies I’ve repeated too many times.
After breakfast—that feels like a continuation of our good weekend—I head to Camden.
But my mind stays with Jayne.
“You’re managing logistics, not a marriage,” she’d said, and she’d sounded so disappointed.
By lunch, I’ve checked my phone ten times, thumb hovering over a text I won’t send.
Thinking of you.
Too easy.
Too shallow.
Too me.
I need to act. Text messages don’t make her life easier. I know what I need to do.
I’m scared. Fucking terrified.
My whole life has been about becoming a surgeon, and now….
I look for Paul and find him in front of a vending machine, eating a protein bar.
He eyes me like I’m an especially annoying arrhythmia. “What’s wrong with you now?”
