John had barely pulled the Harley into the driveway and was feeling pretty jazzed about the day when Hope casually mentioned needing to cancel her date with Chet. Apparently they’d discussed attending the Harvest Festival together.
Chet had been a few years ahead of him in school, and while they’d been on several sports teams together, they’d never been friends. John could see where that kind of man might appeal to Hope.
Financially secure. Stable. Conservative.
The perfect trifecta.
But Hope was married to him. There was no doubt in John’s mind that he loved Hope more than Chet ever could. But that didn’t mean their marriage was out of the woods yet.
Hope had made it clear she didn’t want to love him. He had the feeling she didn’t trust him either. How could she? He’d taken off as soon as things got tough.
One thing was certain. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Hope’s conversation with Chet was unraveling, as she’d expected. When she told him she was committed to making her marriage work, which meant they wouldn’t be able to see each other anymore, there’d been stunned silence on the phone.
“Do you love him?” Chet asked.
“I did ten years ago, but we’ve been apart ever since,” Hope reminded him. “I don’t know what I feel.”
“You were a child when you married him. At that age you’re still trying to discover who you are.” He spoke in that dismissive tone he used when her opinion differed from his. “Now you’re an intelligent woman with a lot going for you. You could have any man you wanted.”
Hope gave a little laugh. While flattering, it wasn’t necessarily true. Besides, it didn’t matter. “John and I are legally married. We spoke vows. I have to try to make the marriage succeed.”
“You’re smarter than this,” Chet said softly, reverting to his persuasive tone. “Simply because you chose unwisely when you were eighteen doesn’t mean you should compound the mistake by sticking with someone you don’t love now.”
Hope noticed he’d automatically assumed she didn’t love John. Irritation bubbled up. How could Chet know what she felt? While she preferred not to delve too deep into her emotions right now, she’d always had feelings for John, she’d simply buried them.
With a calm she didn’t feel, Hope attempted to explain that John was a fine man and they had much in common. But she’d barely started to make her point when Chet interrupted.
“Staying shackled to this man makes no sense at all.” Chet’s voice rose with each word. “How can you even think of tossing over someone like me, who might one day be a U.S. senator, whose family is one of the most influential in the state, for a guy who welds metal? You won’t be happy with him. How can you be? He’s inferior to you in every way.”
“Tread carefully here,” Hope warned. “You’re speaking about my husband.”
“I’m so much more than him.”
Hope suddenly understood why she’d never wanted Chet as a steady boyfriend. Chet thought more of himself than he did her. While she believed he liked her and genuinely enjoyed her company, deep down it had always been about him. What he wanted. What he thought.
Chet was competitive. The fact that she hadn’t been interested in an exclusive relationship with him had only fueled his desire for her. For him, it was all about winning. Her reluctance to tie herself to him had been an obstacle for him to overcome.
Her choosing John over him was like throwing a red flag in front of a bull. He wanted her even more now, simply because he couldn’t have her.
Hope let him rant for several more seconds, then abruptly ended the call, wishing him only the best in the future, but making it clear she wasn’t interested in hearing from him again.
For a minute, she remained seated, waiting for the tiniest hint of sadness to surface. She felt nothing but relief. She stood and moved to her closet.
Excitement coursed through her as she stared at the clothes and contemplated what she would wear to the Harvest Festival and her date with John.
On Saturday, Hope dressed carefully in skinny jeans, heeled boots, and a fluffy sweater the color of mint. Expert use of the curling iron had her normally straight hair falling in gentle waves. She knew from past experience the soft curls wouldn’t last. Fifteen minutes in a light breeze was all it would take to undo her work. Still, she wanted to look good when John first saw her.
With that thought in mind, she took extra time with her makeup. She applied smoky gray eye shadow and three coats of mascara with a deft hand. Then, in seconds, her lips became a glossy sheen of coral.
When she was satisfied she looked her best, Hope grabbed her brown peacoat. She scooped up a cashmere scarf in autumn shades of gold, pumpkin, and russet before heading downstairs. She found Aunt Verna and John at the kitchen table.