What had happened in his apartment had been as much her fault as his. When his arms had closed around her in comfort, she hadn’t pulled away. Hadn’t wanted to pull away. She’d wanted him to hold her, to love her.
Kissing him again had felt so natural, so right. He’d been so gentle with her, taking his time, not rushing. The experience had been worth the wait. Slipping out of his bed when he’d hopped into the shower had been hard. She’d much rather have kept him company in the steaming water.
Hope told herself she shouldn’t feel guilty over making love to John. He was her husband. But for how much longer?
The attorney had been blunt. If she wanted out of her marriage to John Burke, she would have to file for divorce.
Hope straightened her shoulders. She’d get through this challenge as she had all the other trials in her life, by putting one foot in front of the other.
She must speak with John. Her phone dinged with a text. Hope glanced down and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Chet had already called her twice today. Now he’d sent her a text while she’d been speaking with the attorney. He probably thought she was playing hard to get when the truth was, she was simply busy.
Okay, so perhaps she was avoiding him. Though she and Chet’s relationship had never been exclusive, she did need to tell him about John. The trouble was, she wasn’t sure what to say.
She stepped out of the building onto the sidewalk and was horrified when her stomach growled so loudly a woman walking by turned to stare. Impulsively, Hope crossed the street to All Ground Up, a popular coffee and sandwich shop.
She’d just ordered a tuna salad to go when she saw Chet at a table by the window. By the way he and Tom were intently studying a laptop screen, it appeared to be some sort of business meeting or strategy session.
Hope willed Chet to keep his eyes focused on the screen. She would speak with him soon, but now wasn’t the time.
She paid the college-aged clerk and offered him a sunny smile that was at odds with her stormy insides. Taking the brown bag, Hope dropped money into the tip jar and turned toward the door. She’d almost reached it when she glanced over at Chet’s table and . . . caught his eye.
His smile of obvious pleasure had guilt rushing through her and her feet skidding to a stop. How could she even consider walking out without speaking to the man she’d been casually dating?
What would he think when he discovered she was married? And had slept with John? The situation reminded her of a scene from one of Verna’s favorite TV soaps.
Hope waited for Chet to cross the dining area.
“I’ve been trying to reach you all day.” He smiled appreciatively at the conservative dark suit she’d chosen for her trip to the attorney.
“I’ve been super busy.” She lifted the brown bag. “Then I got hungry.”
“I saw you coming out of Reid Mueller’s office.”
Even if she’d been tempted to evade, there was no point. “Oh, Chet.”
“Is something wrong?” Concern deepened his voice. “Is that why you haven’t returned my calls?”
“What’s going on is complicated.” She forced a smile but felt her lips quiver. “I promise I’ll tell you all about it. Soon. You’re busy now.”
“Actually, Tom and I have concluded our business.” Chet took her arm firmly. “As I don’t like puzzles, I prefer you tell me now.”
When they reached the table, Chet dismissed Tom—who didn’t appear to realize the meeting had ended—then pulled out a chair for her. It was close to 2:00 p.m. and most of the lunch crowd had already headed back to work. Their table was far enough from any of the other occupied ones to afford them some privacy.
Perhaps it was best, Hope concluded, to simply get this out in the open. If Chet had discovered he was married, she’d expect him to tell her immediately.
He took her hand. “Tell me what’s wrong and what I can do to help.”
Hope sat back, the move extricating her hand from his. Like it or not, she was a married woman. As long as she was married, even such simple intimacy with another man wasn’t appropriate.
“I’ll tell you.” She looked him in the eye. “But there’s nothing you can do.”
“You might be surprised. We Tuttle men are expert problem solvers.”
Hope smiled. The supreme confidence underlying his declaration came from decades of Tuttle privilege.
As quickly and concisely as she could manage, she told Chet the story. She began with the impulsive wedding and ended with why she’d consulted with the attorney.
Chet sat back in his chair, his blue eyes simply astonished. “You’re married?”
“Yes.” She stared down at her hands. “At this point, staying married or getting a divorce are our only options.”
“What about an annulment? You were so young and—”
“We were eighteen. No parental consent required.”
“Couldn’t you say you weren’t thinking clearly?”
Hope’s lips twisted in a humorless smile. “That only works if the marriage has never been consummated.”
Chet’s brows pulled together. “You said you realized your mistake right away and had him take you straight home.”