Still the One

by Louisa George

  “It’s none of your business, seeing as we’ve barely communicated in two years. But for the record, no.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Her eyebrows rose and her eyes darted to his left hand. And yes, he was still wearing his wedding ring. What of it?

  He wanted to ask her about any significant others too, but wouldn’t. It wasn’t his place. He’d lost the right to know about her private life a long time ago.

  Damn, this was worse than miserable. This was worse than he’d ever imagined, because in some dark part of his head he’d envisaged a huge blow-out argument, an opportunity to get all their issues out once and for all. A swift get-it-over-with end. But this? This was like a long slow painful death. And God forgive him, but all he could think was that Emma’s skin had missed the New Zealand sun, that her hair was longer and glossier than it used to be, that her eyes were tired. Beautiful, but tired.

  He’d missed her at first. Damn, and how. But he’d learnt to live without her. Eventually.

  “Okay, so I’m going out back to give Bas a hand. Good to see you again, Emma.”

  “You too, Danny. And…er, merry Christmas right back.”

  Yeah, right. With Emma here, under the same summer sun and clearly still deep under his skin, Daniel doubted there’d be anything merry about it at all.

  Chapter 2

  Well, that went well.

  Not.

  Emma stayed in the kitchen gripping the glass of chardonnay in her stupid shaking hands, and watched the porch door shiver as he closed it behind him. She took a large deep breath, then slowly let it go, trying to steady her erratic heartbeat.

  For two years she’d been preparing herself for this very moment. She was going to be calm. Cool and casual. She was going to be pleasant but firm. She was not going to fall to pieces with one glance.

  But, damn, he was still beautiful. His dark hair was still cop-short but he had colour in his cheeks now and looked healthier than she’d seen him in years. The uniform did to her what it always did—hell, she was all woman after all. She liked the way the shirt fit his body; all hard honed muscles and broad shoulders. The trousers…man, they accentuated a fine ass and those long strong legs.

  So yeah, he was still a god.

  And she’d tried so hard not to look into his eyes. But she just couldn’t resist. Warm dark brown that had her melting quicker than the New Zealand sun. But she wasn’t going to go there—once bitten, twice shy and all that. They’d been no good for each other, in the end. When things had started to go awry she’d nagged and he’d sulked and the whole thing had imploded. Time apart had been the best thing for her. And judging by the look of him—for Danny too.

  But trying to reach some sort of equilibrium seemed, whenever Danny Wade was around, just out of reach. The damned man had probably seen right through her brave face act to the trembling ninny she was. Because, despite not setting eyes on him for the last two years, he sure as hell still had the same effect on her. Always hot. Often crazy, senseless. Latterly devastating.

  That she’d loved him had been undeniable. That he’d crushed her and broken her heart—and almost her spirit—was bruised on her soul. Never again.

  Outside, music was playing, people were chatting. It was strange being a visitor to her home. Her old life come new; people had changed and grown without her. There were new babies, new relationships, even the island itself felt fresher, more vibrant, clothed as it was in pre-Christmas cheer. She’d been away so long she didn’t know where she fit any more.

  Sure, she’d made a life in Manchester, albeit filled with a busy on-call roster and sleep and late night jaunts to the pub for last orders with people she worked with and barely had a chance to get to know. But the GP training was done now. She could move anywhere she wanted in the world. She could make choices, be responsible for no-one but herself, climb Kilimanjaro or kayak across the Atlantic Ocean. She was free. Or at least, could be.

  So she’d chosen to say yes to Megan’s invite even if it meant facing her husband and the issues they’d both run away from. She’d used geography to distance them. He’d used a bottle—make that a few bottles—to railroad their plans. Although, to be fair, he’d had good reason to want to drown his sorrows back then.

  Realizing she was on her own and would be sought out for Maid of Honor duties at any minute she wandered back into the garden, keeping him in her sights but still very distant, and watched him chatting to a couple she didn’t recognize. In his hand was a glass of something that looked like water. That was new.

  “Aha! Caught you looking.” Megan sidled up to her, twisted her away so the guys wouldn’t see them talking about something so obvious. It was lovely to see her face-to-face after two years of internet chatting. Her old friend gave her a cheeky grin. “Told you he was getting better with age. Still yummy?”

  God, yes. “He seems different.” More confident, strident. Steadier than before she’d left. Was that because he hadn’t had her around to keep stuffing things up for him? Had she tried hard enough to help? Should she have run when he’d told her to go? He’d been ill, for God’s sake and even though she’d tried hard to help, she’d failed. Badly. And then left him.

  He was better now? And yet, he’d been cradling a bottle in his hand…

  “He’s worked hard, Emma. He’s getting there. You could…you know, give him a chance.”

  “Like he’d even want that. I left, Megan. He told me to go and I left, I didn’t fight him, I didn’t fight for us. I went. And I put it all behind me. We were over a long time ago.” What was the point of going over and over it? It was in the past. They’d both moved on.

  Megan put her hand on Emma’s wrist. “Thanks for coming back though, I know this is hard on you both. But I didn’t want to have my wedding without either of you.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. We’ll be grown-up about it, honestly. Don’t worry. We can stand being with each other for a weekend if it makes you happy.”

  “I am happy, although I have to admit to a teeny weeny bit of pre-wedding nerves. I’m so glad to have you back so you can talk me down.” Her oldest friend regarded her for a moment with that know-it-all, don’t-mess-with-me look. “Tell me the truth, though, Em. Are you happy?”

  Was she? Emma wasn’t sure if she knew how that felt any more. “That’s a trillion dollar question, Meg. The course was good. I passed. I’ve achieved the thing I’ve been working towards for the last ten years. I have a good job lined up. So, yeah, things are going great.”

  “Is not exactly an answer. What about that guy you were seeing in Manchester? The paramedic?” She drummed her fingers against her lip as she remembered Emma’s emailed description of him. “Hmmm…nice legs. Dimpled chin. Gorgeous bit of rough. Although, you were pretty coy in your emails. Was it serious at all?”

  “No. We ended it a few weeks ago because it just didn’t feel right. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, honestly, I’ve had a few flings but nothing serious, nothing seems to work. I figured I needed to come here and see Danny again before I can really start to settle down. You know…get some closure and all that.”

  Plus there was a file of papers in her luggage she wanted Danny to sign. To release them both from their responsibilities to each other. She wanted her friend’s take on it. No—she wanted to be reassured she was doing the right thing, because it had seemed like a great idea ten thousand kilometers away when she’d stared into the dark nights and pondered where they’d gone wrong. Now that she’d seen him in person her courage had started to waiver a little. But talking to Megan about divorce a few days before her wedding would probably not be the most diplomatic of moves.

  Over the chatter Emma could hear dark throaty laughter that she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, was Danny’s. Something she hadn’t heard in a long, long time. And she was drawn to it, her whole body seemed intent on being the focus of that laughter, the center of his world all over again.

  An image flashed into her head of their own weddin
g, done on the cheap because money was tight—but nonetheless it had been amazing. They’d hired a local band and Dan had made her laugh so much with his goofy attempts at dancing. Like a scarecrow with uncoordinated arms and legs cartwheeling into the air. Woeful. But so funny. He hadn’t cared, then, about anything apart from making her happy.

  Don’t. A warning voice in her head. You’ve survived without him. Don’t lose yourself to him again. Keep away from Danny Wade.

  But with three long days and three hot summer nights up close and personal with him she had a feeling that keeping away was going to be very hard to do.

  “So Chatterball works like this: I throw the ball to someone and they have to catch it, introduce themselves, then answer whichever question is under their left thumb. Got it?” Bas threw the soccer ball to Dan. It was covered in squiggly writing in different colored ink. “You go first, mate. Start the ball rolling. See what I did there?”

  “The jokes never get any better, do they? Can I hurt you now or later?” Dan caught the ball and inwardly squirmed. He lowered his voice, speaking out of the corner of his mouth. “I have to hand it to you—you’re certainly dedicated to the mix and mingle cause.”

  “Compromise, compromise, compromise. And look at her, she’s glowing now that everyone’s here and trying to get along.” Bas nodded towards Megan who was indeed grinning happily amidst the large group of people crammed into their back garden. But Daniel’s gaze skimmed right on by the bride-to-be and landed on her maid of honor. She was standing in a corner, leaning against a trellis covered in tiny white flowers, wine glass in hand. The sun was starting to dip and cast her in an orange glow. Beautiful. A rare smile was on her lips as she must have known exactly what it was costing Daniel to be standing here doing this.

  Bas nudged him. “Hey. Hello? You have an audience waiting with baited breath. What’s the first question?”

  Dan looked down at his left thumb, read the question and squirmed all over again. “Really?” He hissed to Bas. “Really? Given that most people know me already, do we have to do this?”

  “Megan’s cousins from New Plymouth don’t know you, nor the people she was at university with. They don’t even know me. Smile. Fake it. Read the question out loud. Then give us your answer.”

  “Kill me now.”

  “I’m not sure I’d find a suitable best-man replacement this close to the wedding. But sure, after the reception I’d be more than happy to oblige—”

  There were around fifty pairs of eyes staring at him and waiting. Daniel died a little— this was worse than being in court. “Okay. Hi. I’m Daniel. Best Man. The question says: What are you most proud of?”

  His eyes flitted from Bas’s face to Emma’s and back. Shit. What was he proud of? Not a whole lot, as it turned out.

  “That you’re my best man?” Bas gave him a nudge in the ribs again and laughed. “Should be very proud, mate, eh? I had a line round the block for that job.”

  “Yeah, right. And yet somehow they all pushed me to the front.” Pride wasn’t an emotion he’d experienced too often. That he’d pulled himself up out of the gutter? That he was four hundred and fifty two days’ sober? No-one wanted to hear that today. That he’d once been good enough to marry Emma Neale? His gaze settled on her and she frowned. Probably worried that he’d get mushy or sentimental. Or worse; slur his words, make a scene.

  Megan smiled, encouragingly. She appeared to want to rescue him—she did that a lot. From bringing hot meals round to arranging boys’ nights just so he wouldn’t be on his own. Yep, they’d stuck by him—he didn’t know how he’d have survived without them. “Hey, Dan, how about the time you pulled that drowning dog out of the sea at Little Oneroa Beach?”

  Emma’s eyebrows rose.

  “Or that baby you delivered by the side of the road?” Bas, this time. “Or your epic marathon time? Hey, this guy went from shuffling round the block like a wheezing old man to kicking Usain Bolt’s ass in three months.”

  Cheers all round as those fifty pairs of eyes traveled up and down Daniel’s body. Damn, he hated being the center of attention. But he dragged on a smile. Best man’s duty and all that. “Yeah, so, don’t worry, Megan, if Bas tries to do a runner before the wedding, he’s got no chance. I’ll catch him for you.”

  Right now, Daniel felt like running the heck out of this nightmare but was duty-bound to hang around. And, truth be told, he had used the marathon training to put a few ghosts to rest. Nothing like clocking up seventy kilometers a week to cure insomnia.

  He trawled his brain for something that he could duck under the radar with. “Okay. How about, scoring the winning goal last week for Waiheke Wanderers? Pub team, bottom of the league, woefully useless. But the goal meant we didn’t get the booby prize for the first time in five years. Best night of my life.” Not true. But pretty close to it these days. “Now, someone else’s turn for the spotlight.”

  There were more cheers as he threw the ball towards a pretty blonde he’d never seen before.

  “Oh! That was a good throw.” She caught it and laughed, blinking flirtatiously. She had huge blue eyes and glossed peach lips and, in another lifetime, Daniel might have been interested in getting to know her more. “Danny? Is that right? I’m Lucy. You saved a dog and delivered a baby?”

  “It’s Daniel. And yes, but not at the same time. It wasn’t just me—I was part of a team.”

  “You delivered the baby before the ambulance arrived and the parents named the kid after you,” Bas corrected him, overly loud.

  What was this? Buff-up Daniel Day? He had a sneaky suspicion that his best mate and fiancée were playing a game called Make Daniel Look Good In Front Of His AWOL Wife. Great, just what he needed.

  They had a bloody long way to go before she’d see him in anything like a positive light.

  In his peripheral vision he saw Emma slowly breathe out. Then she nodded and laughed at something Megan whispered to her, head thrown back, ponytail bouncing up and down. And he was thrown back to the night they’d met in this very garden. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

  He’d just been transferred to the island, where Bas had been working for a couple of years and had raved about the fishing and surfing and laidback lifestyle. Bas arranged a barbecue to introduce him to a few of the locals. Emma was home on university holidays and snagged an invite for being Megan’s best friend.

  The second Daniel set eyes on her he’d been completely lost, paying little attention to any of the other guests, or the time, or anything other than her. For a whole summer they’d been inseparable. She’d wept as he’d dropped her at the city’s airport to go back to medical school. For two years they’d managed their relationship long distance. It had worked then. They’d made it work because they hadn’t been able to imagine a future without each other. Then they’d married and vowed never to be apart again.

  So much for vows.

  Bas nudged him. “The game? You’re supposed to be coordinating it.”

  “Oh. Yes.” Dan dragged his eyes away from her and focused on the smiling blonde girl. “So, what’s your embarrassing question?”

  “Ooh. Yes. Hi everyone, I’m Lucy. Bas’s cousin, for my sins. The question says: What was your best ever Christmas present? Oh, I don’t know…ooh, that’s hard… my first mobile phone, I guess. I loved that.” Then she bit her bottom lip and giggled, peering wide-eyed at him through impossibly long eyelashes and whispered, “Maybe you could find your way into my stocking this year, Danny?”

  “It’s Daniel.” And he was sure she was a nice girl underneath the flirt. He just wasn’t feeling it. Thing was, he hadn’t felt it for a long time. “I think you need to throw the ball now?”

  After thirty minutes the ball had been tossed back and forth across the crowd and Dan had managed to slink to the barbecue and help with the cooking. Finally it was Emma’s turn to play.

  She caught it expertly, cheeks reddening as she read out the question, “What’s the worst job in the world?” Her accent was
interestingly tinged with northern English flat vowels. “Doctor, obviously. We see some pretty yucky stuff and do some really gross things that I never imagined I’d be doing. But it’s the best job too.” She paused and frowned. “Er…sorry, I just realized I didn’t introduce myself. Hello, everyone. I’m Emma, Maid of Honor—if you want any evil gossip on the bride, I’m your girl. There’s very little that Meg’s done that I won’t kiss and tell— for a price. I accept bribes in cash, wine or chocolate. God, this is embarrassing isn’t it? Anyone not had a turn?”

  Bas nodded towards Daniel and nudged him forward. Oh, and yeah, first rule of best man duties; do everything the groom doesn’t want to.

  Daniel stepped up beside Emma, given all eyes were on her. “Great, I think we’re all done with Chatterball. Thanks, Emma.” He took the ball from his wife’s hands and found himself smiling at her. She’d always been super-confident but tonight she seemed a little wary. Nervous maybe? That seemed unlikely; they both knew she’d been absolutely doing the right thing when she’d left. It just hadn’t felt like it as she’d closed that door on their lives. “We’ll take time out to eat now. The food’s all ready. Tomorrow’s a free day, so for those of you who don’t know what Waiheke Island has to offer I’ll fill you in: you can hang out at the beach, go for a swim, visit some of the many vineyards around the place, although we are doing a tour on Christmas Eve. But tomorrow, we’ll meet up at Matiatia for an evening kayak and beach picnic at six o’clock if you fancy it.” He dragged in air, stalling as he tried to remember everything on Bas’s list of things-to-do. “Oh, and there’s a Santa parade in Oneroa from twelve until two tomorrow afternoon. I’d stay well away if I were you, but if you do venture that way, be careful of low flying candy and lots of happy, screaming children.”

  “And police officers behaving badly,” Bas added with a grin. “Come along and watch Dan have the best fun. He loves the Santa Parade, right mate? All that smiling and waving and people being happy about Christmas. This year he’s actually on the float. You have been warned—he may be dancing.”