Chapter Thirteen #2
Somewhere between Jillian’s birth and Olivia’s the marriage had become empty, with too much space and tension.
Olivia hadn’t been planned, a mistake when he’d taken Lyndsey away for a romantic weekend hoping to rekindle the fire and passion.
They’d made love and it had been good, but not good enough to support another baby.
Now, standing in the frozen night, he wondered if his daughters even knew what that kind of warmth felt like—the kind his mother had given him, the kind that made the world feel safe.
He wanted that for them, desperately. But he didn’t know how to give it. Catriona might, but she wasn’t his, and she’d made it clear that she wouldn’t be part of his future.
Rhys slowly exhaled, his breath like small ghosts in the air.
He drew in an equally slow breath and blinked, letting go of the past, distancing himself from the pain.
He wasn’t that boy anymore. He wasn’t even that man.
He would do better. He could do better, if not for himself, then at least for his girls.
He didn’t need a woman, or a wife, to make a proper home for his daughters.
He could do that on his own. He could continue being the steady one in their lives, the boring, structured parent.
He didn’t even mind that Lyndsey was the fun one.
This way the girls could have the best of both worlds.
Or so he told himself.
Resolved, he turned and began walking back toward the holiday cottage where his girls slept. He realized he hadn’t asked about Olivia, but he also knew Cat would have told him if Olivia wasn’t doing well.
As he walked, his boots crunched the frozen gravel and finally, little by little, the tightness in his chest began to ease.
He wouldn’t let the past haunt him anymore.
It wasn’t fair to his mother’s memory. He was who he was because of her—a doctor, a respected surgeon, a father who fiercely loved his daughters.
Rhys would keep honoring his mother’s legacy, even if he did it imperfectly.
But, my God, he wished he could have saved Eleanor.
*
The cottage was dark except for the faint glow of the fire when Rhys let himself back in. He closed the door softly behind him, careful not to wake anyone.
The silence felt different now—deeper somehow, after the wide, open night.
He shrugged off his coat, set it on the peg by the door, and stood for a moment in the narrow entryway, listening to the house breathe.
A floorboard creaked. He looked up. At the top of the stairs, half in shadow, Catriona stood wrapped in a blanket.
“You’re back,” she whispered.
He exhaled. “Did I wake you?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t sleep either. I heard the door.” She paused. “You’ve been gone a while.”
He closed the distance, rested one hand on the banister. “I went for a walk.”
“It’s freezing out.”
“I needed the cold. It helps me think.”
She made a face. “Or stop thinking?”
A faint, tired smile tugged at his mouth. “Maybe both.”
For a moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the faint pop of the fire in the hearth and the rattle of wind against the windows.
“The wind is picking up,” she said, coming down the stairs slowly, the blanket still wrapped snuggly around her. “Weren’t you scared?”
“I’ve walked these roads my whole life. It felt good being in the woods and hearing the owls. There are a pair of them in the trees. I forgot how much I loved this place and nature. I don’t get this in London.”
“Do you ever think about having a place of your own in Derbyshire? A cozy country house where you and the girls could come on weekends?”
“It’s a nice idea but it wouldn’t work. I’d find it impossible to tear myself away from the city on a regular basis.”
“Too tied to work?”
“Too tied to routine.” He grimaced. “Lyndsey hated my attachment to work and structure. I’m not very good at being spontaneous.”
Her gaze searched his. “Do you miss her?”
His brows lifted, surprised. “Lyndsey? No. We haven’t lived together for years. We see each other regularly because of the kids, and while we’re amicable, we’re not close. In fact, I don’t know if we ever were.”
“But you loved her. You married her.”
“She was beautiful. Sophisticated. She moved in elevated circles, and I fell for everything she was, because it was everything I wasn’t.
But infatuation doesn’t last. The fact that she was drawn to me turned my head.
But it wasn’t a relationship meant for marriage and children. We both learned that too late.”
He looked at Cat—really looked at her—and something inside him gave way. The walls he’d lived behind, the ones that kept everything neatly contained, felt thinner tonight.
“It’s strange,” he said. “Standing out there, seeing the big house and the cottage I grew up in, I saw me as I was. With all my ambition. I’ve spent my whole life working. Trying to be someone who mattered.”
“You do matter.”
He gave a rough, unsteady laugh. “I thought success would feel different. That if I achieved enough, earned enough, it would—” He gestured vaguely, helplessly. “Fill something. But it doesn’t. It never has.”
“I remember reading somewhere that success isn’t one thing, but a culmination of many things. You can’t just define your life by your work, not when you have a beautiful family and children who need you.”
“It’s difficult to find balance. At least, I find it difficult.”
“Balancing anything is hard, but you do it well. Just look how hard you’ve worked these past few weeks. The hours you’ve poured into finishing the paper and then getting the book into shape for the publisher. During the holidays no less—”
“If I had been there, in London, I might have been able to save her.”
“But you can’t be at the hospital every day. You can’t be the only one trying to save the world.”
“She had children. A fourteen-year-old and a sixteen-year-old. And now they have no mother.”
“It’s so awful.”
“There is no one to blame, either. The attending doctors didn’t make a mistake. They just couldn’t fix what needed to be fixed.”
“They weren’t able to save her.”
“No.”
“And you think you could have.”
“It’s what I do. It’s the book I’m writing. The technique I’m using. Others can, but…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
*
Cat stepped closer and put her hand on his chest, near his heart.
“You are only one person. You can only do so much, which is why this book you are writing is so important. It’s why you need to finish it and see it published.
To share your knowledge. To reach more people and save more lives.
You are so hard on yourself. Too hard.” She moved back.
“I shouldn’t … I apologize. You don’t need me to tell you anything. ”
“I like to hear what you think. You are wise and patient, and you give me perspective I’m missing right now.”
“Then here is what I think. You are wise and patient. You’ve created a wonderful life for your daughters.
You give your girls safety and love. In terms of medicine, patients might have different physicians, they can seek other opinions and visit other hospitals, but your daughters will only have one father.
You. And you being present in their lives makes all the difference.
You don’t have to change. You don’t have to work less.
You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to keep showing up, and loving them, and being you. ”
She moved in, stood on tiptoe and pressed the lightest kiss to his lips. “Go to bed, Rhys. Try to sleep, and sleep in if you can. I have everything in control here. And should I need you, I promise I’ll get you.”