Page 18 of The Press Secretary's Passion
“Something like that,” he says. “Let me in and I’ll tell you.”
“This better not be a trick,” I warn as I slowly step back to open the door wider to allow him entrance.
“Donovan wants everyone to rally around Cara, because she’s falling apart,” he says instantly as soon as the door closes.
“What can I do?” I ask.
“Grab your purse,” he replies. “We’re all heading to his place.”
“I’ll follow you.” I try to avoid spending too much time in Ryan’s company. This way, I can beg off early.
His smile widens. “No.”
“Oh fine,” I snap as I grab my bag off the counter and slide my feet into a pair of ballet flats.
Ryan follows me through the house and takes my keys from me when I move to lock the door and does it for me. He unlocks his truck and opens the passenger door for me before closing it once I’m settled. And then he walks around with a smirk on his face that I’m choosing to ignore, and he climbs up into the driver seat.
He heads to the next town over, one a little more family friendly than mine, and we stop to pick up some coffee and donuts before heading on over to Rick’s house, where he has coordinated this well-planned attack to distract Cara.
“We brought takeout,” Ryan says as we let ourselves into the house that’s already brimming with our friends.
“And coffee,” I add with a big, fat fake smile on my face. “Lots and lots of coffee.”
“What’s all this?” Cara asks, and Grace cringes. Grace never could keep a poker face around the people she loves. Cara clearly knew nothing about this planned visit, and Grace just spilled the beans.
She swipes at her temples, and I can tell she’s hanging on by a very thin thread, so I ask, “Can I get you a cup of coffee, honey?”
“No,” she says just a little too sharply. “I have a headache. I think I had just a little too much champagne last night.”
“Okay, but—”
“I’m just going to go lie down,” Cara inserts. “Let me know if you need me.”
And then she scurries up the stairs. I look to Grace, who has a concerned look on her face. I feel the same way. Cara is falling apart, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.
“Any news?” I ask softly, and Jake just shakes his head.
“Maybe we should go check on her,” Grace suggests. “Maybe the crowd was overwhelming but she’d want some company. Come with me, Jules.”
“Okay.”
We make our way up the stairs, tiptoeing softly like a bunch of crappy cat burglars. Grace tries the door handle, and it rattles but doesn’t turn. Cara has locked the door. Shit. That can’t be good.
“It’s locked,” Grace whispers before knocking lightly.
“Honey, are you all right?” Rick asks softly from behind us.
“Do you think she’s okay?” Grace asks him.
“She’ll be fine,” he answers tersely. “She’s probably just sleeping. It was a late night last night.”
“But don’t you think we should have told her….” Grace’s voice trails off.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Absolutely not,” Rick says. “She has enough on her mind.”
“But Rick—”
