True Love (and Other Lies)

by Whitney Gaskell

  “Yeah, I noticed. Short engagement, though,” Jack said.

  “True, but that’s Maddy for you. She’s a free spirit. And honestly, I know that such a brief courtship would spell problems for most people, but I think those two are going to make it. They’re just so perfect together. I’ve never seen her so happy,” I said, tilting my head back so I could look up at him.

  “First Max, now Maddy. All of your friends are getting married,” Jack commented.

  “Mmmm,” I agreed. Max had finally won Daphne back, as I knew he would, and they were engaged about five minutes later. Jack and I had attended their wedding in Manhattan in June.

  Jack just smiled enigmatically, and got the same strange reflective expression that used to freak me out. Now I just reached over and touched his cheek, and asked, “What are you thinking about?” I’d come a long way.

  “Nothing. So what did you decide you wanted to do about dinner?” Jack replied, and although I knew that there was something brewing behind those crinkly, half-moon eyes, I also knew that it was pointless to push it. When he got his mind set, Jack was intractable, and he wouldn’t tell me whatever it was until he was ready.

  The morning of Maddy’s wedding, London was hit by a storm. Icy torrential rains and heavy winds threatened to soak the guests as they poured into the glamorous Ritz, the women holding on to their hats and the men brushing rain off their jackets. Despite the weather, the bride remained ebullient throughout the ceremony and practically shimmered at the reception. I’d worried that her recent bouts of morning sickness would keep her from fully enjoying her wedding, but to the contrary, I’d never seen Maddy shine brighter as she flitted around, showing off her Vera Wang to its best advantage and kissing everyone in sight.

  After I’d had my picture taken so many times that I was half-blind from the flash, I hunted for Jack. He was in the main ballroom, chatting with one of Colin’s four brothers, all of whom looked identical to one another, and to Colin.

  “Which one was that?” I whispered as Jack grabbed my hand and led me out to the dance floor. The band was playing a jazzy rendition of “It Had to Be You.”

  “Michael, I think. Is Michael the one who’s in finance? Because that’s what he said he did for a living,” Jack said.

  “I don’t know, I can’t keep them straight. Remind me to ask Maddy if Colin was a quintuplet,” I said, and then laughed as Jack swirled me around and dipped me.

  “Your dress, by the way, is as incredible as promised,” Jack said, leering at my breasts.

  “There will be none of that at the reception,” I mock-chided him, but was pleased that he’d noticed. My cocktail dress was as gorgeous and un-bridesmaid-like as possible. It was a sleeveless midnight-blue satin knee-length sheath, with a plunging neckline highlighted with sequins.

  Jack pulled me closer so that we were dancing with my head resting on his shoulder. I may have been wrong about a lot of my dating rules, but this just proved I was right about the not-dating-shorter-men thing. After all, no woman wants to dance with her partner’s head nestled in her cleavage, her head propped up on top of his.

  It was only after Maddy and Colin were seen off amidst a swirl of tossed confetti and well-wishing that the reception began to wind down. Just before they left, Maddy had been in tears, not because she was regretting her new marriage, but because she wasn’t ready to take off her wedding gown. I’d gone with her up to her suite to help her change, but once there, she refused to let me unbutton the fifty satin-covered buttons that cascaded down her back.

  “Then don’t change, just keep it on,” I said.

  “We’re flying to Greece! I can’t wear it on the plane,” Maddy sniffed.

  “Why not? Sure, maybe it would be difficult to use the bathroom on board, but if you can hold it in, it would be totally worth it. Aren’t you the one who’s always saying you have to suffer to be beautiful?” I teased her, and finally talked her into trading in the sumptuous white dress for a to-die-for deep pink Prada shift with a matching jacket that she’d selected as her going-away outfit.

  I didn’t find Jack again until after the crowd sending the newlyweds off had cleared out. As I walked toward him, I was carrying the three calla lilies tied together with a simple cream bow that Maddy had carried in her ceremony.

  “You caught the bouquet?” Jack asked.

  “No, Maddy said that she wasn’t going to put the single women through the humiliation of fighting over it, so she just handed it to me,” I said, and tipped my head back so that Jack could kiss me on the lips.

  “Maybe she’s trying to tell you something,” Jack said, and I just shrugged. I may have been able to, for the most part, set aside my dating rules, but good sense suggested that discussing bouquet tosses and future engagements was not the best topic to bring up with my new live-in boyfriend.

  He called for our car, and it was only once we settled in, and the car began to navigate the London traffic, that I realized we weren’t going home.

  “Where are we going? This isn’t the way to your—I mean our—place,” I said.

  “Another surprise,” Jack said.

  “I thought we’d talked about this surprise thing you’re so fond of,” I grumbled.

  “Have I led you astray yet? Don’t you think it’s time you started to trust me?” Jack asked, squeezing my hand.

  “I do trust you. I just—” I began.

  Jack interrupted me before I could finish. “I know, I know, you hate surprises.”

  The driver took us through Westminster and then pulled over to one side of Westminster Bridge. I was struck by how ethereal London’s government district looked at nighttime. Parliament and Big Ben glittered against the night sky, casting ghostly images onto the Thames River. And other than passing traffic, the entire area looked deserted, which just added to its supernatural charm. It was hard to believe that I actually lived here, I thought, as goose pimples spread over the backs of my arms.

  “Why are we stopping?” I asked.

  “Come on, I’ll show you,” Jack said, getting out of the car and then holding out his hand for me.

  Shaking my head with confusion, I tried to figure out where he was leading me, and it wasn’t until we’d descended a familiar flight of stairs that I realized we were walking toward the same terrifyingly enormous Ferris wheel Jack had made me ride on our first date, all those many months ago.

  “The Eye! Is this the surprise?” I asked.

  “It’s part of it,” Jack said.

  “But we already did this one, don’t you remember? Hey, just how many girls have you brought up here, anyway?” I asked, suddenly suspicious.

  “Only the ones that I later coax into moving overseas and into my house with me,” Jack replied.

  “You didn’t have to coax me.”

  “I asked ten times before you said yes,” Jack said.

  “Yes, but I said I’d think about it the first time you asked,” I said. “But really, we’ve already done this. If you want to keep springing these surprises on me, don’t you think you should come up with new ones? Repeating the same ones over and over sort of takes the thrill out of it.”

  “The last time we rode the Eye, we did it during the day. It’s a whole different sight at night,” Jack said.

  “You don’t really plan on going up in this thing, do you? How do you even know if it’s open?”

  “I have a feeling we’re just in time for the last ride of the night,” Jack said.

  Jack kept a firm hand on my back as we approached the Ferris wheel, correctly presuming that I was doing my best to find a way out of this. I’d already survived the ride once, so why tempt fate with a second trip? With some relief I noticed that although the Eye was lit up and rotating, there were no passengers, and as we got closer, the only person in sight was a uniformed guard.

  “It’s closed,” I said triumphantly.

  Jack ignored me, and instead addressed the guard, holding out his hand to the man in greeting. “Barney?”
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  “Mr. Harrison? Right this way, sir,” said the guard, walking up the incline toward the loading dock. Jack placed a hand on my back and gestured for me to follow Barney.

  “They know you by name? Just how often do you come here?” I whispered.

  Jack just smiled, and with a sigh of frustration I traced Barney’s steps.

  “Mind your step, miss,” Barney said, and stood at the open door of one of the pods as we entered it.

  The wheel turned slowly, and our pod began to ascend. Just like the first time we rode the giant Eye, Jack came up behind me and gathered me in his arms, leaning me back against him. This time, though, he began to nuzzle my neck and ran his hands down my bare arms, as the pod continued its upward climb.

  “You’re not planning on having sex up here, are you? Because it’s absolutely out of the question. This thing still scares me to death, as you well know. And see that camera up there?” I said, nodding toward a prominent camera mounted at the top right-hand corner of the pod. “The security guards will be able to see everything we do.”

  Jack laughed. “Don’t worry, I didn’t bring you up here in order to have my way with you. Although now that you mention it, it is a tempting thought. . . .”

  “So, why did you bring me up here?” I asked. The pod was nearly at the top of the giant circle, and the entire city of London was laid out before us, lit up as far as the eye could see. It was truly a spectacular sight; I could even see Tower Bridge twinkling in the distance.

  Jack spun me around to face him, and as he looked down at me, there was an unmistakable mix of tenderness and nervousness in his face. “I love you,” he said, and just as with every time he had uttered those words to me before, my breath caught in my chest.

  “I love you, too,” I said, touching first his cheek and then the tip of his crooked nose. I particularly loved his nose. Jack was a handsome man, and I was completely attracted to the whole rangy, muscular package, but this imperfection was especially endearing.

  Suddenly he smiled roguishly and dropped to one knee. I was so stunned, all I could do was stare at him, while I desperately tried to prevent myself from making a smart-ass comment that would ruin it . . . because suddenly I knew what was going on. It was the white-knight moment I didn’t think I’d ever experience, and certainly not in such a romantic, over-the-top way. Jack fished in his inside jacket pocket for a minute and then pulled out what had to be the most gorgeous ring I’d ever seen. It was a single, perfect, sparkling square diamond, flanked on either side by a round sapphire. Jack grabbed my left hand and slipped the ring onto my finger. It felt cool and heavy and absolutely fabulous, and when I looked down at it, it winked up at me, assuring me that it was just as beautiful as it had looked in his hand.

  “Claire Spencer, will you do me the great honor of marrying me?” Jack asked. And although he was smiling, I could tell that he was afraid of what I might say.

  I wanted to tell him not to worry, and that as scary as it was handing my heart over to him, I knew for once that I’d given it to someone who would protect it with his life. And I wanted to tell him that the time I’d spent with him had turned me into a different person, someone who resembled the old Claire, but was a bit less cynical and a lot more open to the possibility that I didn’t have all the answers to everything after all. At the very least, I wanted to tell him that he needn’t be frightened of what I’d say, because I’d rather toss myself off this terrifyingly large wheel than do anything that would hurt him. But I was so nervous, and so overcome with emotion, that I couldn’t think of how to say these things, or any of the other thoughts rattling around inside of my head, eager to get out if only they had a more eloquent person to say them.

  So instead I simply took his hand, and said:

  “I’d love to.”

  Also by Whitney Gaskell

  Pushing 30

  Praise for Whitney Gaskell’s debut novel,

  Pushing 30

  “Feisty, poignant, sexy, and packed with

  delicious comedy.”

  —Sue Margolis, author of

  Breakfast at Stephanie’s and Apocalipstick

  “A breezy romp . . . perfectly light, fun,

  and conversational.”

  —Miami Herald

  “Gaskell takes a familiar ‘oh-no’ chicklit theme and turns it sprightly on its ear. . . . What sets Pushing 30 apart from others in the genre is Gaskell’s sharp writing and skillful handling of many plot strands as it weaves into a cohesive, thoroughly

  satisfying read.”

  —Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

  “A sprightly debut . . . breezy prose, sharp wit . . . a delightful romantic comedy heroine.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Gaskell’s characters are funny and sexy as she incorporates serious issues of female friendships, family demands, and personal choices into her story.”

  —Rendezvous

  “Witty and fast-paced, it’s great chick lit.”

  —BookReporter.com

  TRUE LOVE (AND OTHER LIES)

  A Bantam Book / September 2004

  Published by Bantam Dell

  A Division of Random House, Inc.

  New York, New York

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © 2004 by Whitney Gaskell

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

  Bantam Books and the rooster colophon are

  registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Gaskell, Whitney.

  True love (and other lies) / Whitney Gaskell.

  p. cm.

  eISBN 0-553-90068-4

  1. Women travelers—Fiction. 2. Triangles (Interpersonal relations)— Fiction. 3. Americans—England—Fiction. 4. Overweight women— Fiction. 5. London (England)—Fiction. 6. Travel writing—Fiction.

  I. Title.

  PS3607.A7854T78 2004

  813′.6—dc22 2004046170

  Visit our website at www.bantamdell.com

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