Okay, so perhaps she hadn’t told Chet everything.
Heat rose up her neck. She cleared her throat. “It didn’t happen that night.”
“Ah . . .” Chet let out a long breath.
Hope wanted to tell him she wasn’t a hypocrite. She’d meant what she’d said to him about not sleeping with a man until she was married.
She hadn’t abandoned her morals. She hadn’t given in to her desire for John until she’d known they were married. But that piece of information seemed far too personal to share.
“It’s a certainty we won’t be able to go out again until your divorce is final. Even then I—”
“Ending a marriage is a serious step.” Hope found herself irritated he just assumed she’d quickly jump into a divorce.
Shock skittered across his face. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of staying with him? That would be crazy.”
Hope lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “I’d say everything about this situation is crazy. Wouldn’t you?”
After her stressful encounter with Chet, Hope drove home with her thoughts whirling. She and John had lots to discuss.
If she hadn’t been so reckless this morning, ending their marriage would be easy. Still, she couldn’t place the blame on John. From the first time she met him, she’d been mesmerized. She’d never experienced a similar reaction to any other man, including Chet. When she and John had gone their separate ways, Hope had tried to tell herself it was simply a chemistry thing.
Deep down she’d known the attraction went beyond the physical. There was so much that drew her to John—his sense of humor, his intelligence, and his playfulness.
Unfortunately, his irresponsibility and inability to take life seriously made him totally wrong for her. For most of the past ten years he’d lived a hand-to-mouth existence pursuing his dreams of an art career. Her dad had a lot of dreams too. But his disregard for financial matters had made her home life a living hell.
Still, a divorce . . .
Marriage was a sacred institution. Not that she’d shown much respect for that institution thus far. Choosing to be married by a college student, rather than a man of God, had been her first mistake. But certainly not her last.
Yet, what would be the point in continuing a union that would eventually break apart anyway?
With a heavy heart, Hope climbed the steps to the wraparound porch. Instead of going inside, she took a seat on the porch swing, hoping the sunny and unseasonably warm October day would boost her spirits.
She closed her eyes. Dear God, please help me. I’ve made such a mess of everything.
“Want some company?”
Hope’s lids flew open. Though John’s lips curved upward, there was a wariness in his gaze.
Impulsively, she patted a spot beside her on the white lacquered swing. Even if her actions in the past twenty-four hours gave no evidence of maturity, there was no reason they couldn’t handle this situation like adults. “Please. Join me.”
John ambled to the swing, looking more attractive than any man had a right to in jeans and a white T-shirt. When he took a seat beside her and she inhaled the clean, fresh scent of him—soap, shampoo, and that indefinable male scent that was uniquely his—she was tempted to close the few inches that separated them.
But it was that desire for closeness that had gotten her into this situation in the first place.
His gaze met hers. “I was surprised when I came out of the shower to discover you’d left.”
“I needed time to think.” She attempted to banish a sudden image of how he’d look with beads of water dotting his sleek muscles. Her lips twisted in a wry smile. “I thought I’d stand a better chance of thinking clearly with my clothes on.”
His low, rumbling laugh had her smile widening into a reluctant grin.
John’s gaze turned thoughtful. “Did you?”
She tilted her head.
“Do some thinking?” he clarified.
When Hope shifted to face him, her leg bumped his. Warmth flowed from his body into hers. She told herself even if she wanted to move out of reach, there wasn’t room.
A crow cawed overhead and the scent of basil and rosemary teased her nostrils. From where Hope sat, she could see pumpkins in the garden, almost ready to be put on the porch with bound shafts of wheat. It all looked so normal. Yet she felt as if her life would never be normal again.
“I went to see Reid Mueller this morning. He’s an attorney on Market Street. Very well regarded,” she added when she saw his brows draw together. “Specializes in family law.”
John’s foot pushed off the wooden floorboards and the swing moved back and forth. “What did you and Mr. Mueller discuss?”
Unexpected tears pushed at the backs of Hope’s eyes. She blinked rapidly and took a moment to steady her breath. “Annulment. Divorce.”
John’s face looked as if it had been carved from granite. He reached out, then pulled his hand back as if rethinking the movement. “Those were the only options you discussed?”