I don’t even make it out of the building’s parking garage before I call Iris from the car’s Bluetooth.
She picks up on the second ring. “Tell me something scandalous.”
“Cole & Associates is becoming Cole & Harcourt. We will be over a hundred people in the law firm, and Daniel wants me to be the COO of the new firm,” I gush, and then I tell hermy salary.
She screams. “OMG! You, goddess, you.” She pauses. “Let me guess, you’re doubting yourself.”
“Been there, done that.”
She hums as she thinks. “You’re worried about how Rhys will react.”
I slump back into the driver’s seat. “Yep.”
“Why?”
“Because Rhys is home now, but soon he’ll be back cutting open chests, and then how will I manage the kids?—”
“Guilt,” she cuts in. “Pure, vintage, perfectly-aged mother-wife guilt.”
I rub my forehead. “It’s going so well with Rhys. Better than it has in years. What if this throws us off balance?”
“Jayne.” Her voice softens, but it doesn’t lose its edge. “You asked Rhys for partnership, not permission. His growth is not your cage.”
“I just don’t want to lose what we’ve built.”
“And you won’t,” she assures me. “Unless you shrink yourself down to make space for everyone else again. That’s how you lose you.”
A lump forms in my throat. “I want this, Iris. I want the job title. I want the money. I want my marriage. I want my life. All of it.”
“Then take all of it.” Her voice warms. “And, honestly, the Rhys I’ve seen in the past months is—babe, he’s going to help you thrive.”
“Really?”
“Really.” She chuckles then. “What parallel universe are we in where I’m defending Rhys and you’re doubting him?”
That makes me laugh. “The same universe where I’m going to be COO of a law firm.”
When I pull into the driveway, the evening sun spills across the lawn in golden stripes.
Rhys is in the garden with the kids. Mikaela is kicking a soccer ball. She’s recovered from her fever the way kids do. One minute they’re down and the next they’re running about. Finn is trying to do the one-wheel bicycle thing, which I’m sure is going to end with him breaking something.
It’s a snapshot of the life I always wanted. The good kind of crazy. And one I share with an equal partner.
Rhys opens the car door. “Hey, baby. You’re back early.”
I step out, and he gives me a lingering kiss.
“Sit. I’ll bring you a glass of wine.” He takes my bag into the house.
I wave to the kids and settle on the porch swing.
“Look, Mom, no hands!” Finn cries out.
“Famous last words,” I shoot back, but I’m impressed; he’s getting the hang of bicycle acrobatics. Is that a thing?
Rhys hands me a glass of the New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc from last night. He eases in close, lifting his glass toward mine. “Cheers, baby.”
I clink my glass to his.
