Page 36 of The Press Secretary's Passion
“So we’re divorced. And getting married in the morning.”
“We’re having a wedding,” he replies cryptically, making Jake burst out laughing. He’s clearly in on the inside information.
“What’s going on here?” Grace turns her accusations on her husband, who holds his hands up in surrender and smiles as he shakes his head.
“So, funny story,” Rick says. “When I got home and had the divorce papers waiting for me, I was so mad.”
“I know, honey,” Cara says gently. “And I am so sorry.”
“I know.” He smiles at her and places a quick kiss on her mouth. “But that’s not the funny part.”
“Well then, get to it, man!” Grace shouts, clearly losing her patience.
“I looked at those papers, and I just got so fucking mad,” he says by way of an explanation. “And then I got rip-roaring drunk. So drunk that I lit them on fire in the kitchen sink and set off the smoke detector in the old apartment.”
“What?” Cara asks with wide eyes.
“So I didn’t sign them or file them,” he says. “Because I couldn’t, and I didn’t want to.”
“What does that mean?” she asks, and he answers her immediately.
“That we’ve been married this whole time.”
And with that, I throw my head back and laugh.
“I’m just going to go call the car service,” Carter says before standing from the table.
“I’ll go with you and call the courthouse to cancel their reservation,” his husband Todd says.
I have a smile on my face, because all is right in the world of my people. I would do anything for this crazy group, Cara and Grace in particular. I toss back the last of my martini and pick up the little skewer of olives and use my teeth to pluck one from the stick.
“Now it’s Jules’s turn,” Grace says with a knowing look on her face.
“Jules’s turn for what?” Jake asks innocently, and I could kill him.
“To find a man and settle down,” she answers, and I choke on my olive. Ryan slaps me hard on the back while laughing. I have no earthly idea what he could find so funny about this situation.
“Enough meddling, wife,” Jake says as he stands and holds out a hand to Grace, which she takes.
We’ve already squared away the bill in advance, so everyone is free to leave. Gus and the guys are off duty this weekend and decide to take in the sights before tomorrow’s festivities, so they head out. Their stand-ins quietly follow Grace and Jake out of the building after they’ve said their goodnights. And then before I know it, it’s just Ryan and me.
“I’ll see you back to the hotel,” he says quietly, but it’s in a tone that leaves no room for argument.
“You don’t have to do that,” I hurry to say. “I’ll be all right.”
He just repeats his earlier statement. “I’ll see you back to the hotel.”
“Okay.”
Ryan holds his hand out to me, much the same way Jake did for Grace, and I take it. He pulls me up from my seat, and he picks up my black pashmina, holding me to face him, our bodies close together as he wraps it around my shoulders. The move is so intimate that I find myself a little self-conscious. I don’t look at his eyes but instead stare intently at the space of tan skin at the base of his throat that’s exposed by the buttons of his dress shirt undone at the collar.
He makes an amused sound from deep in his chest, and I look up in time to see his sexy mouth twitch. I’m not sure what’s so amusing, but even so, I’m surer that I don’t want to know what he finds so funny, so I clutch the ends of my wrap together at my chest and reach for my beaded black clutch.
“Ready?” he asks, and I can hear his smile in his voice.
“Yes,” I mumble. “Thank you.”
And then Ryan leads me through the restaurant and out the side door to a waiting town car. The driver opens the rear door, and I slide in with Ryan following behind me. Once the driver closes the door, I realize Ryan has moved so close, not giving me space on the bench seat, so I scoot to the door. I get about a half an inch away before his firm hand grips my thigh to stop my movement and then, to my shock, hauls me right back.
