Page 35 of Marrying Mr. Wentworth (Austen Hunks #3)

Sunday — Milwaukee — Ariana

T he first thing I did when I got home was unpack my suitcase.

The second thing I did was pour a glass of wine and pretend I hadn’t spent the last forty-eight hours married to Christopher Wentworth.

I couldn’t fly back with the rest of the group on the private jet. I just couldn’t. I needed time. Meg and Ellie both texted me all day, asking if I was okay. All I could manage was a lame thumbs-up emoji.

They left around noon. After Meg and Luke had a reportedly awkward breakfast with their estranged dad who lived in Vegas.

None of their texts mentioned Christopher. I couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing.

By the time I walked into my office Monday morning, my armor was back on. Pencil skirt. Black heels. Hair in a no-nonsense bun that said “Your Honor, I object” before I even opened my mouth.

No one could tell I was unraveling. Which was good.

Because I wasn’t ready to explain how I went to Vegas for my brother’s bachelor party and came back with an emotional hangover, a legal spouse, and zero idea why I hadn’t filed for an annulment yet.

I had the paperwork. Of course I did. Drafted it on the plane on the way home. Downloaded it and reviewed it twice.

But it just…sat there. On my desk. Mocking me.

Unsigned.

Untouched.

Unfiled.

And I had no idea why.

Scott asked about it. I told him the truth—that I had no idea what I was doing. He was kind about it. Said I should look him up if I ever found myself single and a little less confused. But we both knew that call was never coming.

Scott deserved someone who didn’t hesitate. Someone who chose him without question. First. Always.

Christopher had texted. He’d called. He’d even left a voicemail that I’d listened to but couldn’t bring myself to delete.

“ I meant every word, Ariana. And I’d say it again. Just give me the chance . Or tell me where to write the check.”

I didn’t reply.

I couldn’t.

Because if I did…I didn’t know what I’d say. But I couldn’t bring myself to send him the address for the charity.

And I knew I’d have to see him again in four weeks. At Meg and Jeremy’s wedding.

There was no avoiding it. No backing out. No skipping the ceremony and pretending to have COVID.

Which meant I had four weeks to figure out what the hell I was doing.

Four weeks to decide if I was running away again…

…or running out of excuses.

I buried myself in work.

Hearings. Depositions. Trials. Coffee.

I stayed late.

I said yes to every assignment.

I told myself it was just life going back to normal.

But every time I passed the stack of papers on my desk, every time his name popped up on my phone, every time I closed my eyes and remembered the way he looked at me when he was deep inside of me?—

I felt anything but normal. I felt like a woman on a ledge. Like someone who’d walked away from something almost perfect…

Because she didn’t know if she deserved to try again. And because the last time she said yes to love, it broke her.

But this time?

I wasn’t sure it would break me.

I was afraid it might just fix me instead.

And that was somehow even scarier.