The One & Only: The One Lover Series Book 1

by La Serra, Maria

  “ Three Mistakes When You Spend the Night”

  by Staci Cortés

  19

  Staci

  On Sunday, Jackie called and I told her what happened between Greg and me. It didn’t take long before she showed up at my apartment with a bucket of chocolate ice cream and a coupon to her favorite shoe outlet store on Staten Island. When I opened the door, the first thing she did was pull me into an embrace.

  “God, you stink, and you look like crap,” Jackie said.

  “Well, I wanted to match the outside with the inside. Job accomplished,” I said, kicking the door closed, watching Jackie make her way into my kitchen.

  “Staci,” she said, putting the ice cream in the freezer, “get dressed. It’ll help you feel refreshed. Cleanse you of your sorrow.” She walked into the living room and sat on the armrest by my head, dropping the coupon on my chest near the crusty Cheez Whiz smeared on my sleeve. “If we go shopping, you can’t wear that.”

  “Why not? Wearing pajamas while running errands is the in thing now.”

  “Not ones that haven’t been washed in days.” Jackie pinched her nose.

  “You’re exaggerating. I don’t smell.” I rolled my eyes at her.

  I sat up, grabbing my tea mug off the table. I took a sip then spat the cold liquid back into the cup.

  “Yuck, this is from yesterday,” I said as Jackie took it from me, pouring it down the sink. “I don’t want to do anything today. I need to binge on Netflix with my best friend and forget about Greg.”

  “What exactly is the problem?” Jackie asked, hugging me from the side as she sat. She picked up the remote, turning off the flat screen television. “You’re both columnists. I don’t think you should stop him from sending pieces into your favorite magazine. Seems petty.”

  “I’m not petty. Greg lied. I gave him a chance to fess up, but he didn’t take it. He told me he wasn’t going to send anything in, but I already knew he got a job offer with the New York Times. How do I trust him after that? My career is the biggest thing in my life. I can’t let it go, pretending I didn’t see the e-mail.”

  “Did you ask him why he lied?”

  “I didn’t have to. I already know why. Greg is a smooth-talking, two-timing charmer who only looks after himself. I didn’t have the energy to fight with him, so I just left. He knows how much I wanted the job at the New York Times. He even helped me prepare my proposal for them. Why would he do all that yet apply for a job behind my back? It’s because he loves playing games. He wants revenge for my bad behavior toward him.”

  “That’s a good conspiracy theory, but I don’t think Greg has that kind of imagination.”

  Jackie turned off the television and turned to me. Placing her hand on my shoulder, she said, “You should talk to him. You keep making assumptions, but you don’t know what his real intention was. Why are you really angry, Staci?”

  “What?”

  “Why are you angry? It’s more than just Greg lying to you.”

  “He used me to get to my family to get his story. That’s why he was asking all these questions, pretending to be my boyfriend. He was doing his research. I knew he had something up his sleeve.”

  “I don’t believe you think any of it is true, right?”

  I bit my lip before saying, “Okay, I’m jealous,” I said, picking at the lint on my baggy shirt. “He surpasses me in so many ways, especially in our careers. They want guys like Greg at the Times, not me. I’m a B-rated choice. They’ll never choose my pieces. Do you know how many times I’ve submitted to them?”

  Jackie shook her head.

  “Twenty-five over the course of two years. Every single one was rejected. Greg doesn’t have to try, he gets a job offer thanks to his name. How is that fair?”

  “Maybe you’re trying too hard,” she said softly, avoiding my gaze. “You want this so badly that your quality is affected. Don’t forget, Greg has a couple of years more experience than you, but I’ve read your articles. I know you’re improving every day. You need more time to figure out your specific style and find your voice.”

  “Whose side are you on?” I hopped off the couch and went to the freezer to take out the ice cream. Opening the top kitchen drawer, I pulled out the biggest mixing spoon I owned.

  “I don’t want to see you throw away a great thing with Greg because of a little misunderstanding.”

  I grabbed my phone off the counter, scrolling through my text messages while she lectured me on the work it takes to be in a relationship. Please make it end!

  “Oh my God,” I said, dropping my phone. My knees weakened, and I clutched my spoon.

  “What is it?” Jackie raced to my side.

  “I got a few texts from Kate. She said Greg’s father is throwing him a huge celebration tomorrow at the office to send him off to his new position. They want to know what picture they should put on the cake.”

  Jackie gasped. “Why hasn’t Greg told you any of this? Has he tried to call you?”

  “Not once,” I said, gritting my teeth. “Tomorrow, at work, Greg will be in for a rude awakening.”

  “Please don’t revert to your old attitude, Staci.”

  “I’m not going to do anything drastic, except submit my resignation with Nast Publishing. That way, I never have to see Greg McAdams’s face again.”

  Love is a choice, and if you to love her not only today but here on after—then give it everything you’ve got.

  “How Do You Know It’s Love?”

  by Greg McAdams

  20

  Staci

  The charity event Nast Publishing was hosting was tonight. Even though I had handed in my resignation, Kate had suggested I take two weeks off to think things over and begged me to attend this benefit. However, I didn’t come for Nast Publishing or Greg. I came because I was part of the date auction that raised funds for the children’s hospital, or else I’d rather be at home with a container of Häagen-Dazs, and bingeing on Netflix.

  With Jackie’s help, I went with the velour halter dress. I even bought a brand-new pair of stilettos with bows in the back, but not even they were making me happy tonight. I arrived at the party with Jackie and was relieved I haven’t come face-to-face with Greg just yet— or maybe I have. Everyone is wearing a mask.

  Nast Publishing had gone all out, renting the Great Hall at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. With its grand arches and marble floor, who would have thought the main entrance to the museum could also double as a ballroom? A live band playing jazz overpowered the murmurs of the four hundred guests attending tonight’s event. But there weren’t enough people to put space between Greg and me.

  I was at the big hexagon reception desk, which now doubled as a bar, admiring the centerpiece, a big vase with wildflowers, when Greg stood beside me. He wore a plain black mask, but I would have recognized those eyes anywhere. He wore a black tux with a scarf that hung on each side of his lapel. He looked sharp.

  “I missed you,” he said, trying to grab my hands, but I dropped them to my sides.

  “I’m too upset to talk to you right now.” I faced the crowd, feeling his gaze burning into me.

  “You don’t have to talk, just listen. There’s been a huge misunderstanding,” Greg said, leaning forward. “I didn’t take the job with the New York Times. I’ll admit, for a short moment I did consider it because I wanted to prove to my dad that Nast Publishing wasn’t my only option, that I didn’t need his help. But I turned it down. I recommended you for the position instead, but I haven’t heard back about that.”

  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

  “I’m telling the truth. I’m taking over Nast Publishing as CEO in the next few days. I know you’re one of the best writers I’ve had the privilege of knowing, and you deserve a shot at a job at the Times.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me anything?” I looked at him—his eyes were riddled with hurt.

  “I wanted you to be surprised if you got the job offer. I talked
you up so much; I thought they’d be begging to work with you.”

  “But hold on … I saw the e-mail on Friday.”

  “Staci, that e-mail has been sitting in my inbox unread for months,” he said.

  I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter now. I don’t need you to come to my rescue.”

  I placed my order with the bartender in a black vest and white shirt, handing him a ten-dollar bill from my purse.

  “I asked you to be honest with me, and you kept something this big to yourself,” I continued, “You’ve lost my trust, Greg. Your ego is too big to be in a relationship with me.”

  “You know it’s not true.” he frowned.

  I took my drink, ready to find Jackie, but Greg grabbed my arm.

  “Don’t talk like that. These last few months with you have been amazing. I wish you gave me another chance to make things right.”

  “No, I don’t think I can.” I glanced across the room, not able to look at Greg. I can’t forgive him only for the fact he didn’t try to reach out to me these last few days. If he knew I misunderstood the whole situation, why hadn’t he show up at my apartment, forcing me to listen to him? “I gave Kate and your father my resignation. I was kidding myself to think I could ever be on the same level as the savvy columnist Greg McAdams.”

  “Staci,” he said, “let me show you something. I worked on it all weekend. That’s why I didn’t call.”

  The nerve of him! Greg wanted to talk about work?

  “We’re done, Greg.” I slipped out of his grasp and returned to Jackie.

  When I plopped into my chair, my body felt like concrete. I didn’t want to do anything except go home and sleep. Jackie looked me over, but I couldn’t glance her way.

  “Did you see the article Greg posted earlier on the magazine website?” she asked, picking my phone off the table.

  “I probably saw it already. We both read the final copy before it’s published.”

  Jackie pulled up an article page on my web browser. “You haven’t seen this one, I can assure you.”

  “Jackie—”

  Without another word, she placed my iPhone in front of me. “Read it. You’ll have a change of heart.”

  I stared at According to Staci & Greg’s website and saw the title, “Open Letter to the One I Love.”

  “What is this?”

  “Read,” Jackie said, staring at my phone.

  It’s very rare when someone comes along and spins your world on its axis, and you have the kind of magic to do that. No woman has taken my breath away just at the sight of her like you have. And yet, despite our fallout, I’ve never questioned how you felt about me, and maybe I’ve never made it clear to you how much you meant to me. I should have run after you, but my pride got the best of me. So, here I am, telling you I am crazy, madly, deeply in love with you. And, ten years from now, I will think back to our time together and know you’re the one who got away. I have no shame telling you that.

  When I started writing this article, it wasn’t meant to be for you. It was meant for people out there who were too blind to hold on to what they had in front of them, as I hoped they were not ignorant like me and making the mistakes I have. But it ends up, I wrote this for you.

  So, thank you for the time we shared. I know I will love you forever and spend a lifetime trying to find someone like you to make me feel like that again…

  I turned my head up toward Jackie, who was staring at me with hope.

  “He posted this today?”

  Jackie nodded.

  “Before I turned him away?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid so.” Her lips thinned out.

  I’d forgotten who I was. I’d grown so insecure with my past relationship, finding an excuse to leave before Greg could hurt me for real. I didn’t have much experience with relationships in the past, and my feelings for him were overwhelmingly strong.

  Suddenly, I felt Jackie’s breath on my neck. I turned to find Jackie standing over my shoulder.

  “He loves you, Staci,” she said. “You see that, don’t you? I know you’re strong, but deep down, you still doubt your worthiness.”

  “Don’t get all sappy,” I groaned, flicking a tear from my eye. “I’m a mess. I blew it with Greg. It was nice of him to write it, so I guess it means we can part amicably.”

  Jackie sat down beside me. “Go to him.”

  “Jackie—”

  “Go now!”

  “I can fix things with Greg. I can tell him how I feel. Right?”

  I looked at Jackie with doubt, and she nodded furiously.

  “You’re holding on too tightly to the past. Greg is not Luis,” she said, turning me, pushing me to get up. “Go talk to Greg. Learn how to communicate with each other. Trust me—I’m married. I know this stuff.”

  Looking over my shoulder, I smiled. “I’ll let you know how things go. Or you could come with me and help me swallow my pride? You’ve always been an amazing wing-woman…”

  “Stop stalling— go!”

  I heard Greg’s name being called out, and my eyes divert to the stage in front of us.

  “He’s up there,” I groaned, sitting back in my chair.

  I completely forgot that Kate had signed Greg for the charity date auction, too. Greg did what he usually did; he flashed his charming smile and teased the crowd by unbuttoning his tux, opening one side of his jacket to allow the already-excited women in the room to get a glimpse of what they will get if they should win. His rock-solid body.

  “All right, ladies and gentlemen, this is Greg McAdams. He’s a journalist and a writer for Avant-Garde magazine. He loves motorcycles and long walks on the beach. His ideal date is experiencing new places and trying out new food. If he could travel anywhere, he’d go to South America,” the announcer spoke into the microphone. “You’re probably wondering what kind of date you can expect with New York’s most eligible bachelor. Well, I’ll give you two answers. One, you’ll be riding on a motorcycle and holding on to his six-pack. And two, you’ll have the best time of your life. Doesn’t that sound exciting?”

  The women in the room got rowdier, which caused me more grief. I needed to stop this, but how?

  “Look at the way this kid is dressed—a real James Bond over here. Let’s start the bid at one hundred dollars. One hundred in the front row.” the announcer said.

  “Hundred thirty.” A woman in a pink mask yelled out, waving her arms in the air.

  “Hundred forty.” A woman in the far corner shouted.

  “Hundred sixty.” An attractive brunette in a skintight red dress waved her hand in the air.

  “We’ve got a hundred sixty in the front.” The announcer points. “Come on, ladies. You can do better than that. You get to hold on to Greg’s pecs!”

  “Two hundred.”

  “We’ve got two hundred from the woman in silver.”

  Things began to get serious when Greg pulled off his jacket and the women started whistling.

  Animals.

  “Three hundred,” Jackie yells, lifting my hand in the air.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered to Jackie.

  “Doing you a favor! Are you going to allow miss voluptuous thing over there to go on a date with Greg? No! So, get your butt off the chair and fight for your man.” She yanks my arm and forces me to stand from my seat.

  “Can we do two hundred and thirty?”

  “Five hundred,” the brunette in red who had a body like a cartoon yelled out.

  My stomach twisted in knots.

  Will she ever give up?

  I’m way out of my budget— that was, if I had one before all this started. But now, I was in the thick of it, and I was in it to win.

  “Six hundred,” I called out, and my eyes met Greg.

  From the look on his face, he was enjoying this.

  “Seven hundred.”

  “One thousand,” I chirped.

  What was I doing?

  “Can you afford that?” Jackie asked.


  “Too late for that now, Jackie.” I brushed the hair out of my face.

  “Do I hear one thousand one hundred? Come on, ladies. Don’t forget that it’s for a good cause, and look at what you’re getting,” the announcer pointed to Greg as he removed his crisp white shirt and flipped it over his shoulder.

  “Two thousand,” the brunette in red called out.

  Hell no, you won’t, Jessica Rabbit!

  “Three thousand!” My heart raced as I glanced down to see Jackie fanning herself. God, I hope I have room left on my credit card. Do they even take credit cards? I freaking hoped so.

  Please stop bidding.

  “Three thousand going once … going twice … sold! To the lady in black.”

  Damn, this will hurt, but whatever. I won!

  “Go get him!” Jackie urged.

  Holding my head high, I slowly walked toward the stage to Greg, who was now buttoning his shirt.

  “Hi,” I said, my voice cracked. “I read your article … was it about me?” I said. I’d just spent three thousand dollars on a man, so I might as well cut to the chase.

  “You’re the only one I could have it written for,” he said as he stared at me, making me feel like we were the only ones in the room—but we weren’t. The silence only confirmed that we had a large audience watching us.

  God, am I really on stage? I couldn’t look at the crowd, instead keeping my focus on Greg.

  “Is it true? What you wrote?”

  “You know it is, or else you wouldn’t be up here. You wouldn’t have spent three thousand dollars … when you know you already have me.”

  Three thousand? I don’t even want to think about it.

  “I meant every word, Staci,” he said. “I hope I didn’t embarrass you with it,” he added, staring at me. “But I didn’t know how else to get through to you, to make you understand how crazy I am about you. I don’t want out—I want you.”