Chapter 27 Jayne
Jayne
When Rhys tells me we’ve been invited to dinner at Dr. Victor Lin’s house, I almost say no. Social events tied to his work have a history. The suits. The smiles.
Tory.
“It’s just a dinner, Jayne. No speeches, no donors, no pretense. Victor and Ava are good people. And Paul and Claire will be there.”
“It’ll be fine,” I say.
He cocks an eyebrow. “Didn’t we say total honesty?”
I sigh. “I don’t want to see her.”
“She’s not relevant to our lives, baby.” He wraps his arms around me. “I’m sorry that I did this, brought her up to….”
“We’re not going back to that,” I cut him off.
We’ve talked ad nauseam about the past.
What he said.
What I said.
Why he said what he said.
Why I said what I said.
It’s done and done and then some.
I rest my forehead against his chest. “We’re moving forward, remember.”
“Then leave Tory behind in the past.” He kisses my hair. “Please.”
“I’ll try.” He accepts that because it’s true.
It’s a warm August evening when we pull up to the Lins’ home in Guilford. It’s an old stone house that looks like it’s come straight out of Architectural Digest.
String lights glow in the backyard, and there’s the low hum of conversation and music. We’re not the first to arrive. Thank God!
Rhys and I hold hands as we walk in.
I’m relaxed. Light
Until I see her.
Tory Chehade.
She’s in a sleek black dress, wine glass in hand, laughter like glass chimes. I feel the automatic tightening in my chest, but I force myself to breathe. We’ve been here before—except now, I know where my husband stands.
Dr. Lin greets us warmly, ushering us toward a long table on the patio. There are appetizers lined up: smoked salmon, a cheese plate, artichoke dip, fresh focaccia that Ava Lin made herself (Dr. Lin showed off), and cheese puffs.
It’s easy, just like Rhys promised. No tight shoulders, no undercurrent of tension. Having Paul and Claire helps, much like adding stabilizers to a bike; everything feels steadier.
“Jayne, you look incredible.” Claire settles beside me, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Radiant. I’m guessing Rhys’s sabbatical is agreeing with you?”
I laugh. “It really is. Turns out sleeping more than five hours a night is transformative.”
Paul groans across the table. “Don’t tell my wife that. She’ll never let me complain again.”
Claire pats his hand. “You don’t complain. You grumble. It’s different.”
“Is it?” I tease.
Rhys hears that and shoots Claire a mock glare. “Is this a women against men situation?”
“Absolutely.” Claire sips her wine. “And let me present the grumbly men’s club. You’re both the founding members.”
Paul raises his glass. “Finally, the recognition we deserve.”
Dr. Lin joins us, having overheard Claire. “Rhys has always been stubborn, even as a resident. Glad to know marriage hasn’t changed that.”
“Oh, it has,” I say lightly. “Now, he’s stubborn with better communication skills.”
Claire laughs. “Growth. We psychologists love to see it.”
“Jayne’s good for me.” He slides his arm around my shoulder. “She’s the reason I have any redeemable qualities.”
Warmth blooms in my chest at his admission, at his compliment.
Paul clinks his wine glass to mine. “And we’re grateful, Jayne. He’s tolerable now.”
“You all misunderstand,” Rhys says, with exaggerated dignity. “I’m extra delightful because of Jayne.”
I lean in, brushing my shoulder against his. “He actually is. Don’t tell him I said that.”
Claire grins. “We heard nothing.”
Dr. Lin’s teenage kids, recruited to play waiters, walk around serving appetizers as conversation shifts from work to kids to the best hiking trails. The night hums with soft music and summer air.
After a while, Claire turns to me. “By the way, congratulations on your promotion. It completely slipped. Rhys has been showing off. My wife, the COO this and COO that.”
That feels damn good to hear. “It’s busy, but exciting. I like the work.”
Rhys meets my eyes. “She’s brilliant. I love watching her work.”
Paul whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight.”
Claire elbows him. “Paul.”
“What? That was romantic!” He looks at Rhys. “Good job, man.”
Rhys groans. “I’m sorry, Jayne, Paul has no filter.”
“Paul speaks the truth,” Paul insists.
The dinner is buffet-style, and we cluster into groups.
I see Tory…well, I’ve been keeping an eye out for her. She’s with some of the other administrators, and she hasn’t dared come near us. I’m glad, but maybe slightly disappointed. I want to show off to her how good Rhys and I are.
I feel foolish thinking this because I wove a situation in my head that didn’t exist. Rhys didn’t help with his need to poke at me, but I also blew it out of proportion. The good news is that neither of us will ever vent to others, not before we’re honest with each other.
Claire leans in as the plates are cleared. “You two look good. Strong.”
I glance at Rhys, who is talking to Paul. “We are. Claire, I know you’ve been talking to him. Thank you.”
Claire squeezes my hand. “You both did the work.”
At some point, I excuse myself to the restroom inside. When I come out, I catch voices.
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 it’s an occupational hazard.”
He laughs, a low, genuine sound that I can't get enough of. “God, I love you.”
“Good! Because you’re stuck with me, Dr. Prescott.”
“Mrs. Prescott, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”