“You’re human, Tilly,” she said, choked. “You don’t have to feel ashamed for feeling something that everyone feels. You’re not a nun.”

“But I thought I was going to be. I can’t just stop thinking like one. And yet, at the same time, there’s this part of me that feels wicked, a part that I can’t turn off no matter how hard I try.” She licked her lips. “And Declan…he’s a good man.”

Jealousy erupted in Kate’s lungs. “Do you love him?”

Tilly avoided her gaze. “No. But I could.”

“Til…do you really think that’s enough?”

Tilly dropped her gaze to her tea. “He’s a wonderful father.”

“Does he want more children?”

“He says I’d make a good mother.”

“To whose children? His? Or yours?”

Uncertainty flickered across Tilly’s expression. Quickly, she veiled it. “Ours.”

They looked up, watching from the open window. “It’s started sprinkling again,” Tilly murmured. “I hadn’t even noticed.”

Kate didn’t want to press the issue—really, she didn’t—but she couldn’t just let it go. “Have you talked to him about having more children?”

A light blush inked Tilly’s cheeks. “I don’t feel comfortable talking about things like that with him. He’s not very open to it. It’s personal. Intimate.”

Tilly lifted the small teapot, the same colour as the stone on Tilly’s finger. As she raised the spout to the lip of the cup, Kate watched the weak tea swirl inside. If Declan was so closed-off about such a thing now, she could only imagine what he would be like once they were married. Once they were lovers. The thought of them in bed together made it almost impossible to swallow her coffee. Would Tilly ever know what it was to be loved passionately? “Has he ever touched you?” Kate whispered. “Have you ever touched him?”

Tilly looked up, her gaze bright with surprise. She chewed at her bottom lip.

“He doesn’t try to touch you?” Kate pressed.

“He’s respectful,” Tilly said, shaking her head with a contrived little grin that made Kate deeply uncomfortable. As Tilly sipped at her tea and stared out at the street, her smile quickly disappeared. She looked to Kate, her lips parting. She stopped herself.

“What?” Kate asked. “What were you going to say?”

“It’s just that sometimes I wonder if he’s even attracted to me.”

“That’s not true.” Kate saw the way he looked at Tilly. He wanted her. He may have been using her, but he desired her too. How could he not?

“It is true,” she said indifferently, as though she’d resolved herself to the fact a long time ago. “I think he may still be in love with his wife.” She paused, her eyes trailing over Kate’s face. “I mean, you must think it’s strange that he isn’t interested in touching me, right?”

Kate bit her tongue. She couldn’t lie to Tilly, not when Tilly could read her like an open book. “Do you want him to touch you?” she deflected.

Tilly licked her lips. “I don’t know.”