Page 7 of The Marriage Playbook

Cara Bailey pushed her way through the glass door that led from the elevator lobby to the office floor of Ward & Wellington Public Relations, juggling two cardboard carriers of coffee in her hands and her purse slung over her shoulder.

This was a task that hadn’t gotten any easier, despite the fact that she had been doing it for a year now. She would have thought she might have gotten the hang of it by now, learned how to balance everything she was required to carry multiple times a day without so much trouble. But she always felt as if she was going to drop the coffee and send it spilling everywhere, even though that hadn’t happened to her so far.

She made it as far as the reception desk and set the coffee down. Jocelyn looked up from her computer and grinned. “Made it again, I see.”

“One of these days, this is going to end in disaster, though,” Cara sighed, raking her fingers through her strawberry blond hair. She had spent hours that morning styling it, creating a professional-looking blowout, but running around town to get these coffees had caused the look to turn frizzy, just as it always did. One of these days she was going to learn this lesson and start going with an updo every day.

She plucked out one of the coffees. “It was an iced coffee with oat milk, right?”

“Thanks,” Jocelyn said gratefully, taking the drink. “I don’t know how I’d get through the day without the afternoon coffee run, Cara. I have so many invoices to organize.”

Cara chuckled. “At least you have real work to do,” she said. “I’m probably going to end up spending the afternoon reorganizing the kitchen or something.”

Jocelyn made a sympathetic noise with her tongue. “They’re going to let you start taking on clients any day now,” she said. “You were hired to be a PR consultant. Everyone knows that’s what you’re here for.”

“I was hired at the same time as Jacob, and he has three personal clients already,” Cara said.

Jocelyn’s mouth twisted to one side in sympathy. “We know why that is,” she said.

Cara nodded. Neither of them would say it aloud here in the office, but they did know. The firm’s partnership was all-male, and men were always promoted and entrusted with responsibility more quickly than women were. Cara knew she was ready for more complicated work than daily coffee runs, but nobody else seemed to be aware of that yet, and she had no idea how long it would take before they gave her a chance.

She picked up her coffee trays again. “Is everyone in their offices?”

“Yes,” Jocelyn said. “I’d offer to help you pass those out, but I can’t leave the phone. But if you want to leave one of the trays here and come back for it, feel free.”

Cara gave her a grateful smile. “I would, but you know someone will read into it,” she said. “Everyone is going to start questioning where their drink is the moment they see me, and the only thing that will keep them from getting offended at having to wait is if they see that my hands are full.” She balanced both trays carefully and turned away from the reception desk to make her way to the senior partner’s office. Alastair Ward would be wanting his drink.

Before she could take a step in that direction, though, she was almost knocked over by a man she didn’t recognize.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, with curly blond hair and an expression of rage on his face, and he pushed past her as if she was nothing more significant than a swinging door. She stumbled back into Jocelyn’s desk, the trays of coffee wobbling in her arms, and just barely managed to set them down in time.

“Who was that?” she managed.

Jocelyn was staring after the man. “Liam Sims,” she murmured. “He doesn’t usually come in to the office.”

“Liam who?”

“You’ve heard of him. He’s the star receiver for the Miami Stingers.”

She hadn’t heard of him. She was pretty sure the Miami Stingers were a football team—it wasn’t a sport Cara took a lot of interest in. “He’s a client here?”

“Yes. Alastair manages him directly, and they usually don’t meet in the office.”

That was apparent. Liam Sims had halted his charge and was standing in the middle of the office floor, looking around as though he had no idea where he was supposed to go.

“Ward!” he demanded.

Cara left the coffees on Jocelyn’s desk and hurried forward, feeling that someone needed to step in. “You’re looking for Alastair Ward?”

He stared at her. “Who are you? His secretary?”

She tried not to let that get to her too much. There was no reason for this man to know who she was. “I can take you to his office,” she said. “Do you have an appointment?”

“I don’t need an appointment,” he said. “I’m Liam Sims.”

“Well, everyone has to have an appointment,” Cara said. “Why don’t you take a seat on the visitors’ couch right over there, and I’ll go speak to Mr. Ward and see if he’s able to take a meeting?”

Sims glared at her. “You can just tell him that I’m in an emergency situation and I expect him to get out here right now,” he said. “I don’t have time to screw around. He’s my PR representative, so he should already be aware of what’s been going on with me. He should have contacted me this morning.”