The Comfort of Secrets (A Sweet Lake Novel Book 2)
Page 29
They were perilously close to bickering. Cutting in, Cat said, “I am ready.”
The pronouncement silenced her friends. Ditching the mirth, Jada neared. “Honest?”
“If Ryan asked tomorrow, I’d say yes. I’m the first one to admit I spend too much time doubting myself, wondering if I can succeed in my job, wondering if I’m too much of a lightweight or gullible or stupidly optimistic—but I am sure. That night, with his father . . . I keep replaying it over in my head. How frightened I was, and George taking aim at Ryan. What if I’d lost Ryan? What if . . . ?”
“Hey, you didn’t lose him. Everything worked out fine.”
“Not everything,” Cat replied, her voice catching. “Julia’s worse now than ever. It’s hard for Ryan. Me too.”
Linnie joined them. “Depression is manageable. Julia will get better. Just give it time.”
From the doorway, someone cleared her throat.
Apparently sensing the gloomy atmosphere, Gemma sent a fleeting glance toward the hallway. “Did I drop by at a bad time?”
“Of course not,” Cat assured her. She prayed Gemma hadn’t overheard the discussion. Since George’s death, she was no more inclined to discuss the events of that night than Ryan.
They weren’t ready, not yet.
Jada, who’d become as protective of the college student as Cat and Linnie, arched a brow. “Gemma, how does one just stop by when she lives, oh, four hours away?”
“Keep dropping in unannounced, and I’ll put you to work,” Linnie added.
Gemma perked up. “Will you? Hire me, I mean.”
“Um, I was joking.”
“Sure. Not like I can work for you right now, with school and all. What about next summer? Frances says I can stay at her house whenever I like.”
The eager reply boosted Cat’s spirits. Family is about the people we choose to hold close in our lives. It mattered little to Frances that Ryan’s half sister wasn’t her relation. She considered her family now.
Linnie smiled. “Send me your resume,” she told Gemma, and rattled off her e-mail address.
Together the women finished packing the suite by late afternoon. They went out to the veranda to sip mugs of hot chocolate and enjoy the fall colors. After living at the Wayfair for the better part of a decade, Cat knew that she and Jada were not eager to leave for their respective parents’ homes. Soon the renovations would begin, bringing to a close the era when three friends shared the south wing—and the audacious hope they could save the Wayfair from going under.
Not audacious, she mused. They were well on their way.
The sun was sinking behind the trees when Ryan pulled into the parking lot. Cat set her mug aside and met him by his car.
“I thought you were staying in Cincinnati tonight,” she said. “This is a nice surprise.”
“Changed my mind at the last minute. Frances is making goulash for dinner. Want to join us?”
“Sure.”
He swung his briefcase from hand to hand in an apparent case of nerves. She was about to ask if he’d encountered a problem at work today when he noticed his sister on the veranda.
“Gemma, what are you doing here? Keep goofing off, and you will flunk calculus.”
She came down the steps. “I’ll head back to school soon.”
“Aren’t you taking advantage of your roommate?” He leaned in, gave her a peck on the cheek. “I hate to ask. How many miles are you putting on her car?”
The light criticism sent Gemma’s gaze to her feet. “The truth? Too many. I am saving for my own wheels. If I nail down a job for Christmas break, I’ll have close to three thou saved.”
“I’ll make you a deal. Bank three grand by January, and I’ll match it.” He reconsidered. “Scratch that. Come up with three, and I’ll pitch in seven. Doubtful we’ll find you a safe car for under ten thou.”
“Ryan, I can’t take your money.”
“I’m your brother, and you can. And don’t ask your parents to pitch in—they’ve done enough bankrolling your KSU tuition.”
Immediately Cat caught his drift. “You have three younger brothers, kiddo. One day sooner than you realize, your parents will need to get them through school too.”
Ryan gave Cat a soulful look, dragged his hand through his raven locks. “So.” He glanced toward the Beemer, then back at her. “What do you say we go for a drive?”
“Anywhere in particular?”
“How about the other end of Frances’s street? I want to see the Dolan place. My aunt says it’s a beaut.”
He was nervous. Happy to play along, Cat sprinted to the veranda for her purse. A drive meant time alone to discuss important topics. Like moving in together?
They were halfway around Sweet Lake Circle when Ryan pulled the car to the curb. Scanning the empty picnic tables in the center green, he began drumming his hands on the steering wheel.
“We aren’t driving down Highland?” Absently Cat watched a Ford pickup cruise by.
“In a sec.” He stopped drumming, slid her a quick glance. “The other day, in Frances’s library—I didn’t tell you what we discussed.”
“I assumed you were discussing your mother’s care.”
“No, Frances filled me in on my inheritance.”
This got Cat’s full attention. “Frances gave you an inheritance?”
“It’s from my grandparents. She’s been managing the funds. The money got me thinking.”
“About us?”
“Yes.”
Cat’s heart leapt into her throat. “Yes,” she replied eagerly.
Blinking, Ryan looked at her fully. “What?”
Her heart promptly fell to stomach. “Oops.” She cringed. “Ryan, I’m a total idiot. I thought you were about to . . .”
Humiliated, she sank into herself as he cut the engine. The driver’s-side door swung open. Ryan moved quickly around the hood, opened her door, and guided her out. The moment she was on her feet, he sank to one knee.
Without thinking, she followed his descent, until they were both on their knees. Was this a panic attack? She reached for him, to pull him up and lead him to a picnic table.
The expression on his face stopped her. “Cat,” he remarked soberly, but his eyes sparkled, “there are lots of reasons why I love you, but your goofiness may top the list. Are you going to let me do this or not?”
The husky promise in his voice evaporated the humiliation scalding her skin. Elation followed. “Are you . . . ?”
“Yes.”
“Then my answer still stands.”
For proof she flung herself into his arms. Then she flinched as a car whizzed past.
Steering her up, Ryan chuckled. “We’re in the street. This will make an interesting story for our children.” He led her to the curb.
“Our children? You are moving fast.”
“Don’t you want any?”
“Sure I do.” She moved into his arms, hungry for a kiss. “May I have a wedding first?”
“Oh, yeah. The perfect wedding of your dreams.” He hesitated. “And a house.”
“You don’t mean the Dolan place? Ryan, it’s huge. We can’t afford—”
“Yes, we can,” he said, cutting her off. In his eyes, she glimpsed their bright future. “I hear they’re ready to sell. Looking forward to downsizing.”
She opened her mouth only to discover her voice was gone.
Which didn’t seem to bother Ryan in the least as he kissed her.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
WITH HEARTFELT THANKS
To my wonderful editor, Kelli Martin, for believing in the Sweet Lake concept from the outset.
To my agent, Pamela Harty, for her generous advice.
To my developmental editor, Krista Stroever, for all her brilliant suggestions; my copyeditor, Irene Billings, my production editor, Sara Addicott, and my proofreader, Kirsten Colton, for both their patience and their careful edit; my author relations manager, Gabriella Dumpit, for guiding me through the publication
process; and the talented Rachel Adam, for her lovely cover art for the books in the Sweet Lake series.
To Alan Rapoport, for answering legal questions in a pinch, and my author assistant, Marlie Ahola, for handling far too many tasks each time I ducked into the writing cave.
To Loreen Potvin, Linda Weber, Erin Finigan, Gail Demaree, and Joy A. Lorton for offering suggestions and catching errors during the manuscript’s early stages of development.
To Barry, for reading every review throughout the years and believing even when I entertained doubts. I love you, always.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2016 Melissa Miley Photography
Award-winning author Christine Nolfi writes heartwarming and inspiring fiction. She is the author of Treasure Me, a Next Generation Indie Awards finalist; the Liberty Series novels; and Sweet Lake, her first book in the Sweet Lake series. A native Ohioan, Christine currently resides in South Carolina with her husband and four adopted children. For the latest information about her releases and future books, visit www.christinenolfi.com. Chat with her on Twitter @christinenolfi.