The One & Only: The One Lover Series Book 1

by La Serra, Maria

  The chauffeur opened the door, and I followed Greg up the stairs that led into a light-gray Challenger. Inside, Greg gave our bags to the stewardess while another one escorted us to the white leather chairs.

  “This is insane. I should ask my boss for a raise.” I winked, settling in the leather seat in front of him.

  The interior was all wood lacquer paneling and trimmed in gold. The stewardess came to ask what I wanted to drink. I had an urge for champagne, but it was too early for that, so I asked for orange juice instead.

  “So”—my eyes glanced all around me before meeting his eyes again—“you seem down to earth for someone who’s about to inherit a jet plane.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll admit, it could get to me, and it had. I mean, I was born into this environment. I never had to worry about school tuition or pay my rent … but money can become unattractive really quick.”

  “So, how did you get to this point?” I asked.

  “Many things, but I didn’t realize how self-absorbed I was until I had a terrible motorcycle accident that left me in an induced coma for a month.”

  “What? When you told me about the accident, I didn’t know it was that serious.” I leaned in closer.

  “Oh, it was serious all right. When I woke up, I had to learn everything again—how to walk, talk.”

  “Wow. How come I didn’t know this about you?”

  “It’s not something I like to talk about. I’m not proud of my life before the accident. I was a massive jerk … as you know from firsthand experience. Who knows, if things were different that day at the country club, if I had taken you out like I wanted to … maybe I wouldn’t have needed the universe to teach me a good hard lesson,” he said.

  I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. Jackie had told me what Greg had disclosed about that day at the country club, the day I thought Greg had played me. Now that I think back, certain circumstances had kept us apart. If I had confronted him instead of running away, maybe things would be different for me, too. Perhaps I would never have met Luis. I wouldn’t be so closed off to love. But here we were, coming full circle.

  “I’m kind of glad we didn’t hook up back then because I know I would have messed up at some point. You were way mature for me, and it took me some time to realize it doesn’t matter how much money you have because it has nothing to do with how you feel when you wake up or how easily you sleep at night. Life boils down to having a roof over your head, food, and family. Sure, money can help with some of that, but it’s never a shortcut to love and happiness. I still have to get in the back of the line, just like everyone else,” he said, staring at me. “And what are you without love? A poor man in a designer suit.” He shrugged.

  “Is there anything else I could get you or your guest, Mr. McAdams?”

  “Oh, I’m okay. Thank you,” I said.

  “Anyhow, I didn’t bring you here to impress you. I thought, since this was at my disposal, we could use this time to get our story straight before meeting your family.”

  “Trust me; you don’t impress me,” I teased. “I still find you obnoxiously annoying.”

  He chuckled. “Not even a little?”

  “Well, I could get used to this.” I smiled as I took a sip of my freshly squeezed orange juice served in a champagne glass. “Look, I don’t think I’ve thanked you for this weekend.”

  “No, you haven’t.”

  “Well, thank you,” I said.

  Everything had felt strange between us since the kiss. It was like we opened Pandora’s box. Now, neither one of us wanted to acknowledge the big elephant in the room.

  “No problem. What are friends for?” He smiled. “So, was there anything I should know about your family?”

  “Where do I start?” I looked up at the ceiling. “Well, my family can be overwhelming, so prepare yourself. Oh, another thing is, my grandmother is very handsy.” I used jazz hands.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She has a soft spot for pretty boys like you. Whatever you do, don’t turn your back to her, or you might get groped.”

  * * *

  In Miami, Greg pulled up to the waterfront estate, which was beautifully landscaped. I’ve always had a profound love for homes with terra cotta rooftops.

  “Wow, big house.”

  “My aunt Consuela and her husband, Ron, are well off,” I said, looking out the window. “We’ll go inside and hang out for a little bit before heading off to the hotel, ok?” I said as the car pulled up in the semicircle driveway.

  “Yes, darling.”

  When Greg shut the ignition, he got out of the car and came around to my side.

  What a gentleman.

  “Thank you,” I said, getting out of the car. “For the love of God,” I murmured, looking up at the house to find all the women in my family piled up at the front window.

  “Are you okay?” Greg turned back to me.

  “Yep. Uh-huh.”

  “You’re sure? Because you look like you’re about to get a root canal.”

  I let out a long breath. “I would choose a root canal over walking into that house any day.”

  He slid his hand in mine, making it feel so right. It made me wonder why I was trying so hard to put a wall between us.

  “Oh, Staci, it’s been too long,” my Aunt Consuela said when she opened the oak doors, taking me into her arms.

  “Aunt Consuela, this is”—I looked at the tall man beside me— “my boyfriend, Greg.” When I said it, it didn’t feel like a lie.

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Ruiz,” Greg said to my Aunt Consuela.

  “Oh, thank you.” She took the bouquet from Greg. “They’re beautiful.”

  I liked the fact that Greg had taken initiative to win my family over. Even though the flowers were a nice touch, it really did feel sincere. It was not like Luis had ever thought about it when we came to visit my family.

  “Greg, these are my cousins—Rosita, Clara, Eldora, Estela, Marina, Perla … who am I missing?” I said, looking around the room.

  “Me.” My abuela appeared from around the corner with her hands in the air, all dressed to the nines, her jewelry on point. “It’s great you’re eating more, mi amor. Your face looks rounder.” She patted my hand. “You were too skinny before.”

  “I’m the same weight as when you saw me last week,” I said to my abuela. I couldn’t please that woman. “Abuela, this is Greg, my boyfriend.” Every time I said that word, it seemed like I was even fooling myself into believing it.

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Ruiz. I’ve heard so much about you.” Greg said to my abuela.

  So he had. On our flight here, I had given him the rundown on everything my boyfriend should know about my family.

  “Oh, nice to meet you.” She took Greg into an embrace.

  “Lo que un hombre,” my abuela said while her hands roamed over Greg, making everyone giggle.

  When she finally let go of Greg, she came over to me. “As in boy and friend, or just as in friends?” my abuela whispers in my ear.

  “No— as in he’s my chauffeur.” I frowned. “But I told you I was bringing Greg—as my date to the wedding.”

  “I thought you were joking.” She laughed then nudged me. “I am so happy you took my advice, nieta.”

  “What advice?”

  “That cinnamon powder attracts men.”

  “Yes, abuela, I sprinkled it in my shoes every day.” I smiled. “When I met Greg, he was instantly drawn to me.”

  “Never underestimate the cinnamon powder,” she said, patting my head.

  I loved my grandmother; she could never pick up on my sarcasm.

  “Where is everyone else?” I asked my aunt while watching Greg charm the hell out of my family. My stomach twisted in knots because I had planned with Greg that, right after the wedding, we would have a big fight and break up.

  “In the kitchen … but where are your suitcases?” my aunt asked, glancing around me.

  “Oh …” I cast a look at Greg. “We�
�re going to stay at a hotel.”

  “Nonsense. You’ll stay with us.”

  “Thank you, but we don’t want to impose,” Greg, picked up on my signal, quickly added.

  “You are insulting me now. Greg, get your suitcases, please. You guys can stay in one of the guest rooms upstairs.”

  “Oh, Aunt Consuela … we don’t stay in the same room. Also, you have a full house. We’ll just be in your way.”

  “Why would you stay in different rooms?” abuela asked.

  I saw it in her face; she suspected something. She’s always onto me when I lied.

  “We don’t live together. Greg understands that I’m a Catholic girl and so—” I emphasized.

  My aunt and grandmother simultaneously burst out laughing.

  “You’re so funny, mi amor. Do you think I was born yesterday? You have this,” she said, pointing to Greg. “You expect me to believe you haven’t climbed him yet?” she said, making me blush.

  “Come, Greg, let me introduce you to the rest of the family,” my aunt offers, looping her arm through Greg’s.

  I followed behind them into a large white kitchen where my mother and the remaining women in my family were cooking up a storm.

  After Greg was brought out into the yard to meet the men in my family, my cousin Rachel leaned in.

  “So, tell me more about your boyfriend,” my cousin Rachel asked.

  “What do you want to know?” I said, hoping she doesn’t ask me something complicated.

  “You will need this.” My sister handed me a glass of wine.

  “He drives a Mercedes.” abuela smiled.

  “It’s a rental.”

  “He’s rich?”

  “So what?” I said.

  If Greg were my boyfriend, money wouldn’t be a good enough reason to be with him. It was Greg’s big heart that attracted me. Always wanting to help people, and I had witnessed it at the office … even with me.

  “We don’t talk about money,” I said, and it was the truth.

  “What do you do, Greg?” my aunt asked when they came through the patio door and into the kitchen.

  “I’m a writer for Avant-Garde.”

  “Ah, like my Staci … but she doesn’t drive a Mercedes,” my abuela added for some measure.

  “Well, technically, I work for my father,” Greg replied.

  “Ah.” I could see my grandmother’s wheels turning, and I wasn’t sure if this information pleased her or not.

  “You speak Spanish?”

  “No, I wish I did.” Greg gave her his charming smile.

  “It’s okay. You will learn.” She tapped his face. “Do you want to get married in a justice of the peace or a Catholic church?”

  My grandmother was only four feet tall, but she was very intimidating, especially when it came to her family. I guessed she had to be since my grandfather had died so long ago.

  Greg looked over for support, beads of sweat formed at his forehead but the only thing I thought to mouthed behind my grandmother’s back was—Run.

  She leaned in closer, her eyes never leaving his. “In a church?” Greg uttered like he’s unsure.

  My abuela turned, and her face lit up with relief. “Tie this one to a chair, nieta, before he gets away.”

  Sure, I had rope and masking tape in the trunk for such occasions.

  “Well, um … we’ve never really talked about it, right, sweetheart?” Greg’s eyes met mine. “Staci has been a real bright light in my life. I don’t see my future with anyone but her. When the time comes, it will honor me if Staci would have me,” he said, and my stomach thrilled.

  But I knew he was saying this because I expected him, to—this was something a real boyfriend might say. So I wouldn’t allow myself to swoon like the rest of them. I knew, by tomorrow morning, my abuela and my mother would have a list of people to invite to my wedding that wouldn’t happen.

  “Hopefully this will work out for you this time,” my grandmother said to me.

  “What do you mean? Did I miss something?” Greg asked.

  “Staci was engaged before,” my mother added.

  I couldn’t believe she brought that up now. Why not talk about my biggest heartbreak with Greg?

  “No, I wasn’t. We weren’t engaged, not officially anyway. Never mind.” I shot Greg a look and turned to my mom. “Can we talk about something else other than my failed relationship?” I said.

  Greg stood next to me with questioning eyes. All I could do was shake my head, not wanting to get into it further.

  “I feel useless. What can I do to help?” Greg asked my mother, who was in the process of cooking a Cuban dish.

  “You want to help? Are you sure you want to do that?” I smiled.

  “Sure. Why not? I used to help my grandmother in the kitchen,” Greg said, rolling up his sleeves.

  “Wash your hands. I’ll show you what to do,” my mother told Greg.

  “Do you know who I saw at the supermarket yesterday?” my aunt said, chopping green bell peppers on a wooden cutting board.

  “Who?” my mother asked.

  “Dolores’s daughter. She’s looking like a turkey,” my Aunt Consuela said as she motioned with her hands.

  “Tía,” I said. “That’s not nice.”

  “I’m only telling the truth.”

  “Didn’t she just get divorced?” my mother asked.

  “Uh-huh. You can’t expect to keep your husband when you wear your makeup like a clown,” my aunt said.

  Greg chuckled. “Are they always like this?”

  “Yes,” I sighed.

  They switched to Spanish, which I’m relieved since Greg wouldn’t understand a word of it. There was a lot of yelling and hand gestures.

  “What are they saying?”

  “For your safety, it’s better you don’t know.” I told him.

  The best time to tell someone you have feelings for them is when you believe you’re capable of loving them honestly and properly.

  “When to Tell Someone You Love Them”

  by Greg McAdams

  15

  Greg

  After dinner, I went out and got our suitcases from the car, bringing them up to the room that Staci’s aunt had assigned us on the second floor. We both stood there, looking at the double bed.

  “I’ll take the floor,” I offered without hesitation.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Take the bed,” I said.

  She nodded, pulling her suitcase onto a chair in the corner. She’d been unusually quiet tonight, and I wondered if I’d done something to offend her.

  A few moments of silence passed before I said, “You have an amazing family.” When she looked up at me, I continued, “I would trade all the money in the world to have what you have.”

  She lets out a low laugh. “You’re saying that to be nice.”

  “No, honestly. I’m the product of wife number two. All I ever knew was a workaholic father and a self-absorbed mother.” I unzipped my suitcase to take out my small travel bag where I kept my toothbrush. “I have two sisters and a brother that I wish I were closer to and a six-year-old half-sibling that I barely know. Tonight, sitting with your grandmother watching telenovelas … it was nice,” I said, watching her eyes gleam.

  “Did she try to grab your butt?”

  “Twice,” I said as she giggled. “Nonetheless, when I’m around your family, it reminds me of what I never had. What you have here is gold.”

  Her eyes dragged across my face, and her features softened. I’d told her this not to get pity, but for her to realize that not all of us got the opportunity to come from a loving home.

  “Thank you. I love my family. It’s just they drive me crazy sometimes.”

  “That’s what families are for.” I smiled.

  “Do you need to use the washroom?”

  “Go ahead. I’ll set up.”

  “I think there’s an extra comforter in the closet,” Staci said, and I nodded.

  When sh
e disappeared through the doorway, I found a striped, down-filled comforter inside the closet, laying it down beside the double bed. Then, I took one of the pairs of pillows on the bed and threw it on the floor.

  Yanking off my V-neck, I changed into a pair of jogging pants. Staci appeared from the bathroom moments later, wearing the most unsexy pajamas I’d ever seen, buttoned all the way to the top. I felt like I was choking. What is that? Reindeers? Who wears flannel pajamas in the summer? If she’s trying to repel me from wanting her, she’s going to have to do something better than that.

  “So, what do you want to do now?” she asked when I came back out from the bathroom to find her sitting at the edge of the bed.

  Watching her, my brain went wild, but I was a gentleman, so I said, “I think I saw a board game in the closet. Feel up to a friendly game?”

  “Yeah, sure. Why not?” Staci said before yawning.

  “Okay, we have Pick-Up Sticks or Monopoly.” I pulled down one box at a time.

  “Pick-Up Sticks,” she replied. “Monopoly is way too long, and I’m kind of worn out.”

  I turned, catching her staring. She diverted her eyes to the table at the corner.

  “Want to set up over there?” she said, taking the wing chair on the left. “Get ready to lose, McAdams.”

  “What makes you think you’ll win?”

  “I have steady hands.” She flicked a smile at me.

  I loved it when she glowed. It reminded me of the girl I’d met at the country club all those years ago. I always thought she was beautiful and sweet. If only she knew it took everything out of me to ask her out that day because, around her, I felt vulnerable. Then, years later, when I first saw her in the lobby of Nast Publishing, I knew there was something familiar, but she’d changed so much physically and emotionally, I couldn’t be sure if it was the same girl. However, she was there if you looked closely.

  My one who got away.

  “Okay, let’s make this interesting.” I watched her pile up the sticks.

  She cast me an amusing look. “It’s never boring with you.” She snorted

  “How about, every time one of us disturbs a stick, the other person has to ask a question, which the other player has to answer honestly? Are you game?”