Page 1 of Still the One

Chapter 1

Mac

There she is. The woman who broke my heart into a million pieces. Jamie Sullivan, owner of Sully’s Sourdough—and cheater extraordinaire.

I’ve had months to prepare for this moment—years even—but maybe there’s no such thing as preparing for something like this.

I’m definitely not ready for how untouched by time she looks. Her hair is still that rich dark brown—surely this can’t be her natural color anymore—and she’s still sporting those same bangs that almost hide her eyes.

Jamie makes a beeline for me. “Wow. Gabrielle Mackenzie in the flesh.” She flashes me a smile. “I see you on TV all the time, but…” She pauses, looks me in the eye briefly before her glance skitters away. Jamie shakes her head ever so slightly, then asks, “Can I give you a hug?”

“Yeah.” I inhale deeply. It’s been twenty years. I’ve had to move on with my life and in order to do so, I had to forgive Jamie for what she did—for ripping my heart to shreds—but I will never forget. It’s not possible. “Sure.” I open my arms for what I think will be a light embrace—keeping each other at a respectable distance while gingerly folding our arms around each other. But Jamie has other plans—that’s kind of her thing.

She pulls me close. I have no choice but to bury my nose in that gloriously soft hair of hers. It feels like silk and smells like the most fragrant flowers.

“Sandra and her adult-onset heteronormativity, eh?” Jamie says, her mouth right by my ear.

“My thoughts exactly.” We let go, and I have no time to investigate my feelings, no time to gauge if there’s anything left at all of what I used to feel for Jamie, because Sandra, the reason we’re both here, bounds up to us.

“Good,” Sandra says, pointing her finger from me to Jamie. “This has happened. It’s done.” She narrows her eyes. “I’m smart enough not to ask how that made you feel. For once, it’s all about me.” She waggles her eyebrows. Poor Sandra. She’s been in the middle of our feud since the very beginning. No wonder she asked—demanded, really—that we finally get over ourselves so we could both attend her dream wedding in Maui. And here we are.

“It is all about you, gorgeous.” Jamie rubs Sandra’s shoulder. She’s still as tactile as ever, then. “Where do you want us? What should we do?”

We? Wow. That was quick. Still bossy then, as well. Or, as Jamie used to call it: taking charge of a situation.

“That lovely man over there”—Sandra points to the wedding planner I met when I arrived earlier today—“is going to tell you all about it. This is only the rehearsal so if you’d like to practice sitting together, that can be arranged.” She throws in a wink.

“There’s no assigned seating?” Jamie sounds incredulous.

“Just sit on my side of the aisle,” Sandra says. “And be nice to each other. That’s all I want.” She pulls her lips into the widest grin. “Thank you both for being here. It means a lot that you’ve put aside your, um, differences. For me.”

Perhaps I should have done that a long time ago, for the numerous parties of Sandra’s that I missed because I feared Jamie might be there. But so many things that shouldn’t happen, do—to remind myself of that I only have to glance at the woman standing next to me. And I had to say yes to Sandra’s wedding.

“The best excuse ever for a trip to Hawaii,” Jamie says in that way she has. It should sound obnoxious—because we’re not here for an exotic holiday; we’re here for our friend—but for some reason that has always eluded me, it doesn’t. Jamie gets away with everything. “It’s an honor to be here,” Jamie continues. “But I’m not going to lie, San, I’m still a little baffled at you tying the knot. Life can be funny that way.”

“The heart wants what the heart wants,” is all Sandra says, before she’s whisked off by the wedding planner.

“So?” Jamie tilts her head. “Do you want to sit with me?”

“Why not?” My smile is surprisingly genuine. Maybe instead of being cut up about seeing my ex-fiancée again, I’m simply glad to spend some time with my former best friend. It must be that.

“Come on.” Jamie leads the way to where we’re meant to sit. It gives me a chance to thoroughly scrutinize her from behind. She’s dressed in a soft pink suit and her ass looks mighty fine in those pants.

We find a spot in the middle row of only three. This is not a huge wedding, just the bride and groom’s immediate families and a small number of friends.

“Oh! My! God!” a high-pitched voice comes from behind us. “Hell has finally frozen over. What’s next? Flying pigs?”

Jamie and I turn around. Alan stares back at us. He’s one of the friends I gradually lost after Jamie and I broke up—someone who, over time, gravitated more toward her. I don’t hold it against him. I spend a lot of time abroad and when in New York, I’m usually busy with work.

“Hi, darling.” We both stand up and Jamie air kisses him.

“My god, Mac! As I live and barely fucking breathe.” Alan holds out his hands. Instinctively, I put mine in his. “Phew. You look even hotter than you do on TV. Positively smoking, darling. Hot damn, it’s so good to see you. Come here.” He pulls me to him and the enthusiastic kisses he plants on my cheeks have nothing airy about them.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Alan.” The tight-knit group of friends Jamie and I were part of brusquely fell apart after she left me. In the end, Sandra was the only one I kept in close contact with. “You look smoking hot as well, Alan.” I rake my gaze over my old pal. He’s still the same man I used to see all the time, except his hairline has receded and his face looks more weathered. I used to know every intimate detail about Alan’s life and now here we are, not quite strangers, but certainly no longer friends.

“Babe, come here.” Alan calls for a man a few feet away with his back to us. He turns around and joins us. “Please meet my far better half. This is Charles.” Alan wiggles his fingers to draw attention to the ring on his ring finger. “My husband.” Alan beams when he says the word. Another wedding I wasn’t invited to. I wonder how many there have been. Am I the only single person here? Jamie might not have brought a plus-one, but I doubt someone like her is single—unless that’s how she wants it. Although, come to think of it, people always say that about me as well. As though having my face on TV automatically makes me prime relationship material. But there are a million reasons to remain single. I should know—so I shouldn’t judge.

Charles is dashing, well-spoken, and extremely courteous. I wonder how he ended up with the likes of Alan, who is foul-mouthed, outrageous, and says whatever he thinks no matter whose company he’s in.

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