The One That Got Away by Jamie Sobrato Page B

catching up to it. This was exactly why she needed to spend time with Marcus, so she could prove to herself that what she’d had with him was a lasting friendship, not a missed romance.
    She was older now, more mature. She knew better than to get caught up in those old romantic feelings again, that misguided longing.
    “So what about the man situation? Anyone special in your life?”
    Okay. He was interested.
    “Special?” she repeated.
    His smile turned playful. “You know what I mean.”
    “No one,” she said, shrugging.
    She hoped she sounded casual, but she feared the truth had slipped into her voice. She didn’t want him to know that she’d spent well over a decade finding out that one guy after another didn’t measure up to her standards—standards that she’d based on him.
    How could she have let so many years slip past her with such unrealistic expectations?
    “So what about this guy you almost married. Who was he?”
    “Can I get you a drink?” Ginger said, dodging the question. “Glass of wine, maybe?”
    “That sounds great.”
    She led him into the kitchen, then retrieved a decent bottle of cabernet from the wine rack on the counter. “I was thinking of making a little spaghetti carbonara for dinner, but since Izzy’s a vegetarian…”
    “I’m sorry. It doesn’t look like she’s going to make anything easy.” He pulled out a chair and took a seat at the breakfast table.
    “It’s okay. She’s thirteen. She’s just doing what she’s supposed to do.”
    “She’s supposed to drive everyone crazy?”
    “She’s supposed to start asserting her independence.”
    His shoulders sagged. “I’m so unequipped to handle this.”
    “I was thinking… There’s a really good therapist in town. Maybe it would help to get Izzy into therapy with her. Or maybe both of you?”
    “That’s a great idea.”
    Ginger removed the cork and smelled it, savoring the spicy, oak-tinged scent of fermented grapes. She turned just in time to catch an odd expression crossing Marcus’s face as he watched her. But as soon as their gazes met, the expression vanished.
    “I’ll find her card and give it to you.”
    “Do I get to hear the story of ‘almost’?” he asked, grinning again.
    “Oh.” She shrugged as she retrieved glasses from the cupboard. “I guess so. But first, how does pasta primavera sound? I think I’ve got enough vegetables to throw a decent dinner together.”
    “Perfect. Thank you so much for thinking of Izzy. I’ll take her for a grocery shopping trip first thing tomorrow to make feeding her easier.”
    Ginger poured them each a glass of wine and brought Marcus’s to the table.
    “Cheers,” she said, toasting. “To new beginnings.”
    “Cheers—to you, ” he said, and something in his eyes set her insides tingling.
    It was almost as if he was looking at her flirtatiously, but that was the old Ginger thinking. The new Ginger knew better. The new Ginger was going to learn from the past and remember that there wasn’t any reason to take Marcus’s warmth or his gaze or his anything else as a sign of romantic interest. He’d already proved himself incapable of seeing her as a desirable woman.
    Right?
    Right.
    She just had to figure out how to get all the warm tingly stuff to stop happening, since he was still the same ridiculously attractive man he’d always been.
    She took a drink of wine and allowed the sharp burst of flavor to distract her. Savoring the notes of plum, blackberry and spice gave her a few moments to decide how to explain her almost marriage.
    “I was with Leo for eight years,” she finally said as she set her glass on the counter and began rummaging around for dinner ingredients.
    “Leo? You almost married a guy named Leo? ” His teasing tone caused Ginger to smile, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing it.
    “It was short for Leonardo, if you must know. He was Italian.”
    “Why didn’t you want to marry him?”
    Because of you was