Rhys’s…and Tory’s.
The back hallway is dim, the French doors cracked open just enough.
I shouldn’t listen.
Of course, I do.
Duh!
“…you’re wasting your talent, Rhys,” Tory says. “You were meant to lead, not play house. Everyone’s talking about it—you taking time off, doing…what, exactly? PTA duty?”
He laughs softly, but it’s not a defensive sound. “You make it sound like I’ve joined a cult.”
“Maybe you have,” she fires back. “The Church of Domestic Martyrdom. You used to be brilliant.”
“I still am, Tory. A sabbatical doesn’t change that.” His tone is patient, calm, unperturbed.
There’s a long pause, and I hold my breath.
“Jayne’s ruining you.” Tory’s voice is almost pitying. “You gave up everything for her.”
And then Rhys says something I’ll never forget. “Don’t talk about my wife, Tory; she’s way beyond your league or mine. You know the amazing thing about Jayne? She’s done so much for me and the family, and yet, somehow, she’s kind. Generous. Open.”
Silence.
“Your wife lacks ambition.”
“My wife is the Chief Operating Officer of Cole & Harcourt.” I smile at the pride in his voice. “And even if she wasn’t, she’s still more ambitious than most people I know. She aims to do right by her family and me, and herself. Even I can’t say I do that.”
She scoffs. “I hope it’s worth it.”
“Again, Tory, it’s none of your fucking business, okay?” He’s losing his patience, and a part of me, the petty part, is dancing, pleased with how he’s shuttingher down. “I am none of your business. Next time you see me, if it’s got nothing to do with work, keep walking, okay?”
“Your marriage?—”
“Is fabulous. Thank you very much.”
I don’t realize I’m crying until one of the tears hits my hand.
He means it. Every word.
I’ve had enough.
I step out from the hallway and into the soft golden light spilling from the patio. My heels click once on the tile.
Tory startles. Rhys looks up, his expression a flicker of surprise.
“Jayne.” Tory recovers fast, smoothing her dress like she’s not just been caught tearing my marriage to shreds. “We were just?—”
“Talking about how brilliant my husband is,” I finish smoothly, taking Rhys’s arm. “I agree.”
Rhys’s gaze catches mine, and there’s laughter dancing under the surface.
Tory clears her throat. “Of course. I was just saying how much the hospital misses him.”
“I’m sure they do.” I lean into Rhys, cuddle. Okay, so it’s a bit much, but the hell with it. “Now, I was going to walk away, but I heard what you said to Rhys, that heusedto be brilliant. And I just had to say something. My husband’s kind of genius doesn’t fade away because you say so or he takes a sabbatical.”
Tory’s lips part, then press shut again.
