Still the One

by Louisa George

  “Sweetie, listen, you’re my Maid of Honor. You have to do everything I ask. And I’m asking…what went down on the beach?” The bossy bride bit her lips together and giggled. “I’m hoping it was Danny? Or you? Go you. I saw you both up near that old tree- very…er…secluded.”

  “No! Oh my God. No. No way. On the beach? With you guys arriving any second? No.” Not that it hadn’t crossed Emma’s mind when he was rubbing his hands over her body.

  “Interesting.”

  “What is?”

  “You said, No way! On a beach? Not: No way! I want a divorce.” Megan’s voice was a little loud.

  Emma looked around, everyone else was singing along to the Christmas music coming through the speakers, thankfully no-one had heard the D word. She lowered her voice hoping Megan would do the same. “Yeah. And that too.”

  “Say it and mean it.”

  The wine took over. She had to talk this through with someone before she self- combusted. “Okay. Listen up: I kissed him. On the beach. Rather, he kissed me and I kissed him back.”

  Megan clapped her hands and grinned. “I knew it! And then…?”

  “Then I told him I want a divorce. But before we could talk any more you all arrived. Not the best timing.”

  “Like right now, girlfriend. Ooh, I really, really want to hear more, but we’ll have to continue this exciting installment later because we’re just arriving at the vineyard. But wow, you’re a dark horse. Kissing, eh?” The coach pulled left into a gravel driveway. Marshall’s Winery. Megan stood and hushed everyone. “Here we are. The last stop of the day and a lovely Christmas Eve dinner with all the trimmings. There may also be a Santa Claus…don’t forget to tell him if you’ve been good or bad, okay? Hop off, everyone, and enjoy.”

  Then Megan paused and flashed an apologetic smile to Emma. “Er…”

  “No. I’m not telling you any more. Let’s get off this damned bus. I want first dibs on choosing seats. Nowhere near you know who.”

  The bride-to-be grimaced a little and her shoulders hitched—never a good sign. “Yes. About that. I sent along a little seating plan in advance…so I’m afraid to say you two are together.”

  Great. Just bloody fantastic. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  “Honey, I’m trying to make you both see sense.”

  As she shuffled into the queue to leave the coach Emma bit back the words she wanted to say because it was Christmas Eve and the day before her friend’s wedding so she had to play nice. But after? There would be no stopping her. “So, why did you think wine tasting would be a good idea the day before you got married? Everyone’s going to have hangovers from hell.”

  “The ceremony isn’t until three, we have all day to recover. Besides, no-one held a gun at your head and said drink the chardonnay or else. Daniel didn’t have any.”

  Daniel, Daniel, Daniel. Always Daniel. As they stepped off the coach he was there, hand out to help them down. She didn’t look at him, she didn’t touch him. When they were safely inside and out of his earshot she whispered to Megan, “He didn’t drink because he’s the chauffeur for the day.”

  Megan looked at her and took hold of her hands. Emma felt a sermon would be imminent. And she wasn’t wrong. “Because he’s sober, sweetie, that’s why. Every day. For over a year. Twelve steps and everything. Once he’d committed to getting better he never missed a meeting. And we’ve tried to help him as much as we can, he calls us his Booze Buster team—thank God he’s got his sense of humor back. But he used to phone us most days at the beginning, when he was really struggling, just to talk things through. He doesn’t have to now. He’s really committed. You should give him a chance.”

  Okay, so it wasn’t a sermon, just another advert for the Danny cause. Was it possible for someone to change so much? Her heart squeezed at the thought of him phoning his friends, because his wife wasn’t around for him to call.

  But she’d changed too. Well, hell, she hoped she had, because looking back at that Rich-bitch list she hadn’t been a particularly nice person; shallow and spoilt and a little demanding. Her face flushed at the thought of how selfish she’d been and the pressure she must have put on Dan to provide for her emotionally and financially…when he’d been sick and trying to cope.

  Yeah, she’d changed so it was possible he had too. Except… “But I saw him drinking beer yesterday.”

  “I find that very hard to believe. He wouldn’t do it. He’s like a new man, but still partly the old one too, and let’s face it, the old one had very nice wrapping, yes?”

  Emma refrained from hitting her oldest friend over the head with her handbag but it was a close run thing. “Please, please stop this matchmaking thing. It’s getting messy.”

  “It’s been too long since I had you both in the same space together. I just need you to see sense.”

  “I already have, Megan. That’s why the papers are in my bag.”

  * * *

  So this was going to be awkward.

  Emma squeezed onto the long wooden bench beside the dinner table and nudged her… husband. It had been too long since she’d even thought of herself with any kind of relationship status, having consigned Danny to her past. She didn’t want to touch him but there was no choice in the matter. He shifted aside and made room giving her a forced smile. “Emma.”

  “Daniel—.” She’d been about to apologize for last night, for the kiss and the bombshell, but he’d already turned his back and was talking to someone’s auntie’s sister’s friend on his other side. On Emma’s right was Lucy—a cousin, perhaps—someone from the other night who had smiled too sweetly at Daniel during the ball and question game, and was chatting animatedly to Bas’s brother. Which left Emma feeling a little like an outsider. She supposed she was now.

  She sat for a while looking down at her hands, wondering what to say and who to say it to, then checked out the venue. Reassuringly the vineyard hadn’t changed much in two years, although it had gone overboard with the decorations; there were festoons of colored streamers across the ceiling, a huge fir tree in one corner ablaze with twinkling lights and presents scattered underneath. Above the door there was plastic mistletoe which was being put to good use right now by Bas and Megan, who seemed to have no flicker of jitters tonight if the kissing was anything to go by.

  And there was an ache in the pit of Emma’s stomach as she watched them. There had been a time… And a man… Her man.

  He was here, so close. So dangerously close. In the small space his thigh was pressed tight against hers and she could feel the strength of it, the heat. And his scent wrapped around her, filling her with need and sending tingles of desire skittering across her skin. And despite everything; her promises, his anger, her sleepless night and the papers right there in her bag, she wanted to kiss him under the mistletoe too.

  She wanted the promises of sharing a bed with him tonight and tomorrow and… she’d lost that chance when she’d walked away from him in the throes of a devastating illness. Even though he’d commanded her to go. Even though he hadn’t wanted her to be part of his life back then. Even though walking away had been the only option she’d thought she had. He’d been ill and she should have understood that more than anyone. She should have stayed and fought for him.

  Worse, right now she wanted him to look at her the way Bas looked at Megan. The way Danny used to look at her.

  When she turned around he was looking at her and frowning. And, regardless of those brooding eyes, he was so damned gorgeous dressed in a dark collared shirt and smart trousers. With that soppy Christmas hat that had floated away from him yesterday stuck firmly yet shabbily on his head making him look somehow more cute, more endearing. More lethally sexy.

  She didn’t want to touch him, but dammit all to hell, she did.

  Everywhere.

  “Thanks for doing the driving today, it’s made everything so much easier with us all together.” She tried to speak with a voice that wasn’t lust-filled. And failed. “I see you’ve got y
our Santa hat on again. It’s looking a little worse for wear. A little…floppy, if you don’t mind me saying.”

  “Floppy? No-one’s ever had cause to say that to me.” Daniel’s scowl dropped a teeny bit but the air hummed with discontent. “I don’t know what his fixation is with this hat, but once I’ve stopped being the Best Man I’m gonna shove it up Bas’s—”

  “Grinch,” Emma interrupted before Auntie Joyce across the table overheard. No point upsetting her on Christmas Eve. “I never did understand why you hate Christmas so much. You remember the first one we had in our house? You didn’t even want a tree.”

  “You did know, you just didn’t like it. We never had a fuss at home, growing up. It just wasn’t our way. Mum wasn’t much into celebrations. I can’t remember a time when we ever did anything like decorate a tree. That was what other people did.”

  He huffed out a breath. His single-parent mum had struggled with the blues for most of his life and there’d been little joy growing up in his house. He’d worn the stresses on her behalf, had left school early and gotten a job to support the family. Once his mother had died and his sister had her own life it was as if he’d had a new lease of life to follow his own dreams at last, so he joined the force.

  Some people might have wanted to make up for all that loss by being extravagant, not Daniel. At least not financially. He’d been charming and fun-loving and had grasped life in other ways, though; skinny dipping, beach picnics, snorkeling. “We couldn’t afford it, Emma. I was working double shifts to pay the mortgage as it was.”

  Meanwhile she’d focused on her own needs and her studies. She could see that now and felt shame bubble up inside her. “Being all sentimental had to come a long way down that list, eh? I understand that now.”

  But he had been sentimental, she realized. He’d kept all their photos and had all their memories. He’d finished all the jobs that needed doing. He just had a different way of showing his feelings. She’d wanted hearts and flowers and things…but he’d shown her his love by working damned hard. Meanwhile she’d just complained that she never saw him or grumbled that he was a Scrooge scrimping all the money for serious stuff.

  Then there was the accident. One he happened upon coming home from work; a young boy in a hit and run who Daniel had fought to save. He had made promises to the kid as they waited for help, as he’d tried to stem bleeding from a blown artery. Promises he simply couldn’t keep— he didn’t save the life or find the cowardly perpetrator. His biggest failure. The tipping point of stress that had sent him over a deep dark edge.

  Soon after, he fitted pub visits in between shifts. And she saw him even less.

  She looked at him now, there was no self-pitying there, no blame, just facts. He shrugged. “That house was an investment for our future. Truth was, if we hadn’t met the monthly payments we’d have had no home to put a Christmas tree in.”

  “I know. I understand that now.” Very last century thinking, she knew, but Emma had left the financial things to Daniel, knowing that down the line she’d be contributing a hefty income from her doctor’s job. But living on her own for two years had shown her how important it was to juggle things to make the rent, the burden of running a house, being responsible for everything. “God, I was such a spoilt bitch, but I just wanted to create a little magic for us.”

  This time he twisted to look at her. The steel flecks of anger in his eyes softening a little. “We had that without getting in extra tinsel as far as I was concerned. But I know I got a lot of things wrong back then, I’m not the grand gesture kind of guy that you wanted. I should have let you splash out a little. I was trying to be sensible and to give you the home you wanted, but Christmas isn’t about that, right? It’s about letting all that go and having fun.”

  “Christmas is about family. About being with people you love. I know what it’s like being away from them and I appreciate it all the more. And believe me, when you’ve worked on a home birth gone wrong, fighting to save a baby’s life on Christmas Day, you get the whole true meaning message.”

  More softening in his eyes. She wondered how he saw her now—did he still think she was the spoilt girl or could he see that life had changed her? “That must have been hard for you, Em.”

  “It’s part of the job. Like breaking bad news, like holding someone’s hand when they die. Like sitting vigil until their family arrives from overseas. I’ve done all those things and more. But you know exactly how I felt, don’t you? Fighting for lives? Not always saving them?”

  He shook his head. “Er—it’s Christmas Eve. Shouldn’t we be talking about reindeers and elves?”

  “Not talking about it shoves it under the carpet, buries it deep. You know how damaging that can be.”

  “Look, Emma, I know enough about damage to last a lifetime. Beer. Wine. Tequila. Vodka. I had a lot of damage from them. You think they’re going to numb the pain and they do for a little while, but then things always take a downward spiral.”

  “What do you do when you want a drink these days?”

  “I work hard on not wanting one. I distract myself—hence the rich-bitch list and the marathon. Sometimes the urge just goes. Sometimes it stays and I have to fight. Hard. I take one day at a time. Today, I haven’t even thought about it because I’ve had other things on my mind. I like to think I’m more than my addiction, but I’m realistic to know I’m only one drink away from a relapse.” He cast his eyes around their surroundings and laughed. “Damn strange to talk about drinking problems in a vineyard. That, my love, is irony, right there.”

  My love. He would whisper that to her in the night. You are my love. You are my love. That was the old Danny, so tender, so passionate, so out of control at times it had scared her. “And you never drink these days?”

  “No. Never. I won’t say it’s not hard. It is. But it’s better this way. I’m better this way.”

  “Yes, you are. But…” She broached the subject gently, but she broached it because honesty was the only path she would be prepared to take. Because he was lying. Because she’d had to learn to be open and if necessary confrontational to get to the heart of things, to the stuff that mattered. He mattered. Whatever became of them, Danny still mattered. “You had a drink the other night. I saw you.”

  “When?”

  “In Bas’s kitchen. First night back.”

  Surprisingly, he tipped his head back and laughed. “Ah, yes. I remember you looking at the bottle in my hand. I was clearing up Bas’s empties. And yes, I’ve also become very domesticated in my old age. Who knew that would happen?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me it was Bas’s beer?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to prove.”

  “So you let me jump to conclusions?”

  The laughter disappeared as his eyes darkened. “I didn’t let you do anything, you managed that all by yourself. You have to take people as you find them, Em, not as you think they are. The people we both were two years ago are gone now. But I can hardly blame you— I have bad form where alcohol is concerned. I understand you wouldn’t be able to trust me again. I get that. I get the kiss, too. It was a whole lot of pent-up wishes, although I do think stopping it was a shame.”

  Finally, it was out in the open. The kiss she’d been re-living on an hourly basis ever since. Along with the shivers of need that ran through her body. The confusion. The ache to do it again. Right now. “I wanted to talk to you about that. I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have done it. I don’t know what happened.”

  “Believe me, I know exactly what happened. It’s hardly surprising, though, is it? We never had any trouble on the attraction front.” He looked at her for some time before speaking again. And she wished with all her heart that she could rewind the clock back to that time when they’d both been blissfully happy.

  But then—she wouldn’t have known all the things she knew now. About struggling, about inner strength. About what a man Danny could be when challenged. About how he could rise above everything and com
e out whole.

  He smiled at her; it was a sad smile, a wistful one as he spoke, “But we both know that we’re different people now. I won’t deny I’m attracted to you. Hell, you’re more beautiful in every way. You’re wiser and more self sufficient, you’re confident and glowing. I wish we could have had a better chance. But I’d like to think we could be friends. I like you, Emma. A lot. I like the person you’ve become. You should be proud of yourself. The people of Brisbane will be lucky to have you as their GP.”

  When he’d said he’d loved her in the past she’d taken it for granted because that was what he was supposed to say. Now, however, his praise set a little fire burning in her heart. “I like you, too. You’re different, but the same.” Calmer and steadier but making her pulse race anyway. The lost rookie cop replaced by a man who knew his worth and his place in the world. A good man who deserved good things. “I’d like to think I could trust you. I certainly believe in you.”

  “Good.” He smoothed his hand over hers. “And yes, I will sign the papers. We both deserve a new beginning.”

  “Oh. The papers, yes. Okay. Later. Tomorrow…no. Not on Christmas Day.” A heavy weight pressed on her chest, spreading out through her limbs, crushing her heart. This was the end. “No hurry.”

  “Whenever you want.” There was genuine concern, there. “You do still have them?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course. In my bag.” She patted her handbag and felt the dull weight of the dog-eared papers she’d been lugging around for so long.

  “Emma, are you okay?”

  “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” For God’s sake, she’d instigated the damned legal action so she couldn’t reconcile the pain in her chest, the stinging in her eyes. “It’s just sad, that’s all.”