“Not really,” I say. “What’s up?”
“I’ve got a case that’s…complicated.” He blows out a frustrated breath. “And honestly, I’d love your eyes on it. No pressure. Just a second opinion.”
A month ago, the request would have lit me up. I would’ve said, “Yes, yes, yes,” before he even finished the sentence. But now, hearing him ask for help doesn’t spike my pulse.
“I can,” I reply slowly, surprised at myself. “But I don’t want to leave Mikaela. She’s feverish and knocked out on the couch.”
“I’m not asking you to come in.” I hear the sounds of a keyboard on Paul’s end. “I’ll email the scans. Look whenever. Tonight. Tomorrow. Whatever works.”
A soft laugh escapes me. “It’s weird. I’ve barely thought about the hospital this month.”
“Hell…I’m sorry to?—”
“No, it’s fine.” I lean against the counter, watching my daughter breathe. “Really. I just…the thing is, I can say no to you. I’m not eager to read case files. I just…it’s surprising. I thought I’d miss it, you know?”
“That’s what I thought, too,” he admits. “But this isgood. This means that you needed that sabbatical, you needed a break.”
He’s right. Constantly humming at surgical speed and being able to work long hours doesn’t mean you aren’t burned out.
I am starting to realize that staying home, being able to get a good night’s sleep, not living with stress and on coffee and a prayer, has been healthy for me. Emotionally and physically.
“Yeah, I think you’re right. Look, send the email, and I’ll take a look at it after the kids go to bed.”
Silence.
“Paul?”
“It’s just…it’s good to hear you say that, Rhys, to prioritize your kids over work.”
I don’t even feel guilty about not helping out with a patient. There are several cardio surgeons at Camden. I’m Jayne’s only husband. I’m my kids’ only father.
“No promises on brilliance, but I’ll give you something as soon as I can.”
“That’s all I need,” he says. “And Rhys?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m proud of you.”
“Me, too,” I confess. “Prouder than I’ve been of anything I’ve done in the OR.”
We hang up, and I slip back into the living room, lowering myself onto the couch beside Mikaela. She instinctively shifts, laying her head on my thigh.
And as I rest my hand over her small, warm back, Irealize that even when I go back to the OR in a few months, I won’t go back the same man. Because this quiet, steady, and ordinary life has rewired something essential in me. I am content, and it’s a delicious feeling. It’s not the high of surgery. It’s not the high of saving a life. But it’s immensely fulfilling, and I’m not giving it up.
CHAPTER 25
Jayne
Ididn’t think he’d last a month, but here we are moving into month three of Rhys’s sabbatical, and he’s…well,amazing.
The strangest part of having Rhys home is how calmIfeel, once I got past waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to blame me, or death rays from Mars coming and hitting us.
This peace comes from the absence of the constant, invisible hum I’ve lived with for years—the mental scorekeeping, the anticipatory bracing, the thousand tiny tasks waiting to be handled by me andonlyme.
Now, Rhys is the one loading the dishwasher before I even think about it.
He’s packing lunches.
