Still the One

by Louisa George

  Before he pulled the truck onto the road he turned to her, his face was all shadows and darkness, lost and desolate. So despite his brave act earlier, he was hurting too. “So, what’s this about, Emma?”

  She didn’t know how to put all the feelings swirling through her into words. But she resisted the urge to blurt everything out, because she needed to convince him, logically and calmly, that they could work this out together. That their marriage vows still meant something. That they were worth something. “Can we just go home?”

  “Home?” His eyes flickered something she couldn’t read—wary? Guarded. But he shrugged and nodded and steered the car onto the road toward their house. He’d changed clothes; into jeans and a grey T-shirt and if she wasn’t mistaken there was distinct smell of shower gel.

  He pulled up outside their house and dragged on the handbrake. But he didn’t move, didn’t look at her and just stared out the front window. “Before we say or do anything else I need to tell you something, Em.”

  Panic rolled through her. “What? What is it?”

  His voice was flat. “I needed a drink. Earlier. So badly I was scared.”

  No. She closed her eyes and prayed. Please, no. “Did you—”

  He looked down at his hands. “No.”

  “Thank God.” It was more a sigh than words. And it was a start; he was being up front with her and honest about what he’d needed. She just wished it had been her and not alcohol, but he’d dealt with it. She’d never known him to be able to rise above the relentless craving before. “You did good, Dan. How did you stop it?”

  “I think I went a little crazy.” He laughed—it was soft and almost bemused. “I ran. And thought things through.” He finally turned to look at her. “What is it that you want?”

  You. Us. All the cravings from earlier flooded her body. He was here. He hadn’t had a drink. He’d taken control of whatever shit was roaring through him. He was a good man. She needed to convince him that she was a good enough woman too. Good enough to stand by him, strong enough to weather whatever life threw at them, good enough to trust his heart to her again.

  “Can we go inside?”

  “Sure.” He went to open the car door, but paused. “I…er, I guess you could say I’ve been busy. Don’t be too shocked.”

  “By what?”

  “You’ll see.”

  He seemed nervous as he took her hand, opened the door and ushered her in. Immediately she set foot in the house she stopped sharp and stared at the whisky bottle on the table. “Dan, what the hell is this?”

  * * *

  “A damned fine and very expensive twelve year old malt whisky. It’s mine, I bought it. Earlier.” It sounded weak, but not opening it was the strongest he’d been. So he’d left it there, a symbol of how far he’d come. Despite having it in the house he felt pretty damned proud of himself.

  Emma picked it up and examined it, mistrust rippling off her. “But you didn’t drink it?”

  “No. You can see it’s unopened.” He shook his head, tired of the distractions. Wanting to stop the talking and take her to bed. To their bed. One last time. But that was his stupid broken heart leading him and he’d done one other thing today that made him proud—he’d let her go. “It’s late, Em. I’ve got to be on top form tomorrow for my mate’s big day. If you’re just here to ask questions or check up on me, then can we leave it until after the wedding? I’m fine.”

  Her hands shook as she put the bottle down. “Danny, I’m not going to go to Brisbane.”

  Confusion shook through him, along with a kernel of hope. If she wasn’t going…? But this was Emma, she was a global gypsy with the traveling bug. “Why not? Got a better offer?”

  “No, but I’m hoping to.”

  She walked to him, her hands out. When she reached him she took both his hands in hers. “Daniel Wade, I want to stay here with you. I mean, for real. Forever. I shouldn’t have left you last time, I should have stayed. Now I’m going to. I’m going to stay here.”

  “Oh no.” He let go of her hands as if they were hot cakes. “I won’t have you giving your dreams up for me. I told you that already. You have to go to Brisbane. I won’t hear another word about it.”

  Instead of the anger he expected, she smiled. “Oh, yes you bloody well will. You said that if I stayed it would clip my wings. But I don’t want to fly anywhere on my own—there isn’t a place I’d rather be than here. With you.”

  “You’ll regret it. I can’t live with that.” If she did come to regret her choice, and to resent him, it would tear him apart more than the alcohol ever had. He couldn’t do that to her, or to himself.

  She smiled even more now. “How could I ever regret you? You are strong and tough and will fight for those you love—and for those you don’t even know. You’ve had a difficult struggle and you’ve come out more whole, more amazing than anyone I’ve ever known. I’m proud to know you. I’m more than proud to be your wife.” And before he knew it she was tiptoeing up and pressing a kiss to his mouth.

  For a second he almost thought it could be perfect before cold reality smashed its way into his consciousness. He pulled away. “You’ll be hard pushed to get a job on the island.”

  “I can commute to the city.”

  “This place is too small for you, you’ll get bored.”

  “I can think of plenty of ways to keep me amused.” Now she started to pull at his T-shirt and God knew she was certainly making a lot of sense—some of the time. His body reacted immediately with a hot jolt of need.

  But his hand stilled hers. “No. Seriously, I can’t let you do this.”

  She stroked her palm across his chest, then let it rest over his heart. “I love you, Danny. It’s not a case of letting me do anything. And you can’t make me leave either. We all have choices. You could have opened that bottle tonight but you chose not to, right?”

  “I guess. But it wasn’t easy. You need to know that.”

  She pursed her lips. “If that’s some cock-eyed way of warning me that you’re going to fall off the wagon then go ahead. Say what you like. But your words mean nothing when your actions speak so loudly. You chose to get well. You chose not to slug that whisky. And I’m choosing to stay. I’m choosing you.”

  Could she be any more perfect? His heart swelled until he could barely breathe. He was done with being scared, of defining himself by who he had been, not who he was now. He was going to take that leap of faith and trust that he could be the man she thought he was. The man he knew he was. Especially with her by his side.

  He grabbed hold of her other hand too and made sure to look right at her. “You said you loved me?”

  “I do. I always have. I just wish I’d stayed last time—”

  “I love you too.” He wasn’t sure what else she was going to say because he closed his mouth over hers and showed her just how much he did love her.

  Eventually he stepped back, just to see her. He hauled in oxygen and then told her what he’d been wanting to say since he’d seen her at Bas’s house. “You need to know I have fought my damned demons every day for almost fifteen months and I can’t promise there won’t be times when I want a drink. But I promise I’ll fight with everything I’ve got not to have one. And I’ll talk to you, Emma. I won’t push you away. I’m through with that.”

  “Damn right you are.”

  “And I’m not stupid to think that everything will miraculously get better straight away. I made a huge mess of things and I made some pretty bad choices, but the best one I ever made was to love you. I always have and I always will. I promise you that, if you let me, I’ll make those bad days up to you or I’ll die trying. I love you. I love you so much.”

  Her hand was on the hem of his T-shirt again. “So, do we get to spend the night in our bed?”

  “One more thing…” He felt a laugh rise from deep in his gut. “I…er… well, I was out there tonight on the road and got to thinking about the things I hadn’t given you, the joy we’d missed out on so,
well…” He felt like a prize idiot, but it had felt symbolic when he’d done it. Reclaiming his joy, and letting go of his tainted past. “This way—”

  He led her into the lounge. “Okay. Merry Christmas, Emma.”

  For a moment she just stared. And he had to admit it looked pretty damned fine. If not a little over the top gaudy for his liking. But this wasn’t about him and never would be from this moment onwards. He knew she’d be soft for a room decorated in more tinsel than he’d ever seen in his life, white fairy lights cascading down the walls, a Christmas tree in the window with bells and baubles and some of her sentimental stuff that she’d lifted out each year and that he’d kept in the spare room.

  Her hand was at her mouth. “Oh, my God. It’s beautiful.”

  So yes. It was definitely all about her. “I reckoned you’d like the silver and green theme.”

  “I love it. Oh, my God, Danny. I adore it.” She reached up and kissed him on the cheek and he thought then that if she left him and broke his heart for a second and irreparable time, that it was worth everything just to see her face, like this.

  “I never celebrated the things you love. I almost ruined your Christmas today. But I didn’t want you to look back on this Christmas Eve and only remember the bad things. I want you to remember that you are loved. Adored. Worshipped. Totally, and completely. More than anything.”

  “Oh, Danny, you said you were no good at this kind of thing, but I will certainly never forget this. But when…? How…?”

  “I told you, I ran. Sometimes it’s a good way of getting rid of the cravings. I ran until the road stopped and then turned back towards home. I ran past the late night store and I went in to get some booze. I won’t lie. That was my plan. Then I saw the decorations in the window. Who knew that Christmas decorations were the best distraction therapy ever? Happy Christmas, Emma.”

  “Wait there…” With that she disappeared out of the door. He heard tiny stamps along the corridor and back again. She had her handbag in one hand and a wad of papers in the other. “The divorce papers.”

  “You brought them here?” Was he having a mind melt? After all this, she still wanted…?

  But she grinned and tore the papers into tiny shreds, flinging them upwards, and they floated through the air, landing in their hair, on the floor, on tinsel. She laughed and caught some of the shreds in her palm. “Hey, it looks like snow…no, confetti. Now that is pure irony, right there.”

  He stopped watching the papers and concentrated on her. So beautiful it made his heart ache. “Yes, it certainly is.”

  She smiled, her grip on his waist tightening. “I love you, Danny. So very, very much. I’ll be your friend and your network. I’ll be by your side too…every single step of the way. Oh, and I’m very good at distraction therapy. So now I am going to sleep with my husband. In our bed.”

  “About bloody time.” Then he kissed her, open-mouthed and wild. “What are we waiting for?”

  “No. Hang on. I just need to do one more thing.” And again she dug in her bag and back again—held out a small box. “Now…do this, please.”

  “Are you sure?” He took her wedding ring and placed it at the tip of her left ring finger. His heart felt as if it was going to swell right out of his chest.

  She looked at the ring, all shiny and symbolic there on her left hand. “Sure. I’m still married, aren’t I?”

  “You most definitely are.” He slid the ring back on to her finger then took her in his arms. “Happy Christmas, darling.”

  “You too, Danny.”

  This was going to be the best Christmas ever.

  Epilogue

  The next day…

  * * *

  The trouble with weddings, Danny mused as he watched the bride walk sedately up the makeshift sandy aisle of mistletoe and white roses tied onto the backs of white wooden chairs…was the expectation.

  Expectation that the Best Man’s speech would be hilarious. He hoped it would be—but he hadn’t even looked over it for a day or so. He’d been a little…distracted.

  That the bridesmaids would be beautiful…he craned his neck to look past Megan and there she was. In a billowing pale blue dress, following the bride. Her shoulders were bare, her hair in lose curls. She was smiling at him and his heart did a somersault. Again. He just couldn’t believe he’d gotten a second chance. This time he would show her how much he loved her.

  That the Best Man would have to take his eyes off his wife to play his role. To give the damned speech. To dance. When all he wanted to do was take her back to bed.

  “We are gathered here today…” the celebrant started the service. Bas and Megan slotted next to each other at the front. No signs of nerves, just a confidence that Daniel knew would see them both through any rocky times they may face ahead.

  The service went without a hitch or a dry eye, and Dan focused on their special day because he owed his friends so much; they’d kept him hopeful and alive. They’d brought his wife back home.

  But much later, after the first dance had happened and the last guest had gone, he found her outside the wedding venue, sitting on a bench looking up at the stars. Instead of sitting down next to her, he took up his rightful place; on one knee, in front of her. “Emma, I have something to ask you.”

  “Oh.” She looked at his position and frowned. “Are you…? Surely…no? Really? But Danny, we’re already married.”

  There was a thrum inside him that felt as if his whole body was smiling. How could he be this lucky? “I know. We’ve spent a lot of time discussing went wrong for us, but I think it’s time for us to start looking forward. I want to begin by marrying you. A fresh start. Renew our vows? Will you please, do me the honor of being my wife all over again?”

  “Oh, …oh, yes. Yes, what a fantastic idea. That’s…amazing! Yes. Yes, please.” She cupped his face and kissed him. “So, these grand gestures are coming thick and fast.”

  “I have a lot of making up to do.” He brushed a rogue tear from her cheek and studied her face. “Now…timing. I always thought Christmas Day was a most excellent choice for a wedding. What about you?”

  She looked like she was sorely tempted to push him over, but instead she just shook her head and laughed. “But you hate Christmas.”

  “I know. But I love you.”

  “Oh, Danny, I love you too. But I don’t want to wait that long.”

  “Then we’ll do it tomorrow. Or next week. Just, let’s make sure we do it. Soon.” Then her perfect lips were on his and he didn’t care when they got married again, just as long as they spent the rest of their lives together. “Now come on, wife. We have a lot more making up to do.”

  “Absolutely, my love.” She stood, pulling him up with a teasing and knowing smile. Because making up was something they were very good at. Then she wrapped her arm around his waist and lay her head on his shoulder. “Okay, husband of mine, take me home.”

  Thanks for reading!

  Thank you for picking up Still The One, I hope you enjoyed a brief visit to the wonderful island of Waiheke, which is just off the coast of Auckland, New Zealand and a fabulous place to spend a summer, or even just a night.

  If you enjoyed Emma and Dan’s story make sure you look out for more of my weddings books : my Something Borrowed series set in Notting Hill, London. I also write books for Tule publishing and Harlequin Mills and Boon Medical line.

  To keep up with all my release and book news, please visit me at www.louisageorge.com and subscribe to my newsletter. I do giveaways and cover reveals and fun stuff for my VIP subscribers.

  I love hearing from readers, so drop me a line, come and say hi! And please consider leaving a comment or review for Still The One at your favourite online retailer or review site!

  Thanks again for taking a chance on me and my books.

  Happy reading!

  Louisa x

  Sneak Peak!

  Love weddings? Love London?

  * * *

  Here’s an excerpt from S
omething Borrowed, book 1 of my Something Borrowed series, out July 1 2016

  * * *

  Something blue. Something new…?

  When Chloe Cassidy is jilted at the altar it’s all her nightmares rolled into one. Her mother is convinced she’s the victim of the family curse. Her sister believes she just hasn’t found The One yet. But Chloe’s not listening; she’s too busy taking her humiliation out on the infuriating best man, Vaughn Brooks.

  Three months later, Something Borrowed—her wedding planning business— is failing. In a last ditch attempt to save it, Chloe is forced to swallow her pride, and work with the enemy: too-hot for his own good, award-winning chef Vaughn. She soon realises the sparks flying between them are nothing to do with their dubious past, but from something else altogether…

  * * *

  ‘Yoo-hoo!’ The door rattled and, along with a whoosh of cool air, in walked Mum, arms full of sweet-scented baking and a basket of fabric swatches, thread and general haberdashery frippery. ‘Is it me or is it unseasonably cold today? Oh, hello gorgeous little girl. Girls.’ She beamed at them all in turn. Then homed in on Chloe. ‘You look tired.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘No, you’re not. Fretting over himself again?’ Her native Irish accent always came out when she was anxious.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, no. And I told you, stop talking about it. I don’t ever want to hear his name again. And stop looking at each other behind my back—I know what you’re doing.’ Chloe cleared a space on the overstuffed sofa, indicated for them all to sit, drew up the coffee table and then fetched plates and forks. As they began to eat, Chloe called the meeting to order. ‘Right, let’s talk Davidson and Wright. Where are we up to with the bridesmaid’s dresses? When’s the last fitting scheduled for?’