“New York Times, Washington Post, Chicago Tribune, LA Times. The Associated Press picked it up. I’m afraid it’s everywhere. Mainly in the entertainment section, from what I can see.”

Entertainment. Like her life was a circus meant for the public’s amusement. The worst had happened. I’m a laughingstock. A fraud. The letters from her disappointed readers would pour in. She’d disappointed so many people. The weight of it dragged her under the choppy water, and she fought for breath.

“Paul and Chloe scheduled a conference call with us at noon to discuss how to handle the media. They’ll want your story in detail to determine if there’s any way to spin this in a positive light.”

“Of course.” She didn’t see how. For the life of her, Kate couldn’t see how they could control the damage. It was all true. She was an expert on finding Mr. Right, she’d chosen the wrong groom, then she’d impulsively entered a loveless marriage. A marriage with no real feelings.

That’s not true, Kate, and you know it.

All right, maybe she did have feelings for Lucas now, but she didn’t have them when they’d married.

“They’ll call you on your home phone, and I’ll be there too,” Ronald said.

“What about my column? What about Glamour? Do you think—” She was afraid to pose the question, but she had to know. She pulled at a loose thread on the quilt and balled the string between her fingers.

“I wasn’t going to say anything; you’ve got enough on your plate right now. But Glamour has asked you to step down for the time being. Maybe when this blows over . . .”

But even when it blew over, Kate knew the damage left behind would be irreparable. “I’m guessing the syndicated column is in jeopardy too?”

The silence on the other end spoke for itself.

Kate felt her throat closing, her eyes burning. How can this be happening, God? How have I fallen so far? So hard? She was on the verge of losing control of her emotions. She cleared her throat again, hoping for a space to open up. “Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you at noon.”

After they hung up, she set the phone on the nightstand. In the other room, she heard her cell phone ringing. She’d forgotten to turn it off. She couldn’t talk to anyone. She wanted to pull the covers over her head and pretend none of this had happened.

But what good would that do?

Help me, Jesus. Please. Help me figure a way out of this hole I’ve gotten myself into.

And that was the real issue here. She’d gotten herself into this mess. Had she even consulted God about her engagement to Bryan? No, she’d figured she was such an expert she didn’t need His help.