Something From Tiffany’s (14 page)

In addition, Terri had yet to find any man worthy of the time and effort required for a relationship. Most of the men she encountered these days were serial Romeos who had no interest in settling down, or newly single guys emerging from long-term relationships or marriages with all the extra baggage this entailed.

Rachel and their chef, Justin, were always teasing her about being too cynical and having unrealistic expectations, but what was so unrealistic about wanting to share her life with someone easy-going and straightforward? Terri had no interest in the immature game-playing that seemed to go on between people who were supposed to have grown out of their teenage years a long time ago. She simply wanted someone to share her day-to-day life with, someone to come home to in the evenings and to chat and laugh with, someone who understood her hopes and dreams and who would be there for her whenever she needed him. Was that really too much to ask?

‘I don’t have high standards, just standards full stop,’ she argued with Justin on a routine basis, but the truth was that at thirty-two years old, and after almost eight years of being single, Terri had just about given up on happy ever after.

And while it might have been a surprise (to her at least), she was glad that Rachel had found it.

Chapter 11

As it turned out, and much to Gary’s annoyance, the doctors refused to discharge him from the hospital until the following afternoon.

In the meantime, Rachel once again contacted the airline and arranged, at considerable expense, to rebook their flights back to Ireland on the twenty-ninth, which meant that once Gary got out they would be spending one last night in New York.

Back at the hotel, she’d gone out of her way to ensure that their final night in the city would be extra special. All being equal, she was sure that Gary would have had his own elaborate proposal plans in place but, with the accident, everything had gone awry. Well, the least she could do now was try to make it easy for him.

So when at six p.m. sharp the knock on the hotel door came, Rachel leapt up from where they sat on the couch to answer it.

Tipping the room-service waiter, she wheeled in a cart with two prime-rib dinners, two lit candles and a freshly chilled bottle of champagne.

‘Wow, pulling out all the stops, aren’t you, babe?’ Gary grinned, as she put an arm around him and helped him to the table

He was getting around pretty well on his twisted ankle but still seemed a bit crotchety, despite the Vicodin haze.

‘Well, we did miss Christmas,’ she said, giving him a wink and biting the inside of her cheek as she tried to hold back a giddy smile. Earlier he’d again brought up the subject of exchanging Christmas gifts, so it looked as though she didn’t have too much longer to wait.

She managed to make it most of the way through dinner without her hands shaking too much. By contrast Gary was incredibly relaxed, and for this, Rachel was grateful. Part of her was afraid that, if he hadn’t been seeing her through the rose-coloured glasses of pain medication, he might have been suspicious that she was on to his proposal plans.

‘Ugh, I can barely move after that,’ she said, scraping the plate with her knife and fork. ‘I’ve been waiting for so long to have this nice dinner with you, I think I’ve overdone it. More champagne?’

‘Perfect,’ Gary said. ‘I’d pour it myself if I could, but I don’t think my ribs could handle the strain.’

‘Don’t worry; I’ve got it,’ Rachel said. She glanced at the bottle, which, worryingly, was almost empty. They’d have to order another one to celebrate their engagement, if Gary ever got round to it, that was! Sometimes he could be so laid-back it was funny, but not this time. ‘So,’ she went on, trying to sound light-hearted, ‘I suppose now might be a good time to break out the presents. I’ll just get yours and we’ll open them together, OK?’

‘Great. I could do with some cheering up. While you’re at it, would you grab the one I got you from my stuff?’

Rachel’s heart raced. This was it! ‘Sure, but how will I know which one is mine?’ she asked, grateful that her strengths lay in cooking and she hadn’t instead tried to pursue an acting career.

‘Well,’ Gary replied, raising his eyebrows playfully. ‘That would be the one in the little blue gift bag.’ He sounded uncommonly pleased with himself and she grinned.

‘Sounds nice,’ she said, feigning ignorance about the significance of the bag’s colour.

A couple of minutes later, she returned to the table with the Tiffany’s bag and several gift-wrapped packages meant for him.

‘Tell you what, why don’t we move onto the sofa for this? It’ll be more comfortable for you,’ she said. That way, there was less risk of Gary injuring himself when he got down on one knee.

‘OK. Give us a hand, though, would you?’ He stood up and Rachel gently guided him the few steps across the room. ‘Grand, and don’t forget my top-up,’ he added, indicating the champagne.

‘Hold on, I’ll bring my glass too.’

Once they were seated side by side on the sofa, Rachel handed Gary her carefully wrapped gifts.

‘You first,’ he said.

‘No, you go ahead,’ she insisted. She appreciated his manners, but figured the engagement ring deserved to be the grand finale. He didn’t seem nervous at all, but then again she supposed he was lucky; most men didn’t have the cushion of Vicodin to help them through a marriage proposal.

Gary complied, and several minutes later had his motorbike-riding trousers, leather wallet and a nice Hugo Boss shirt next to him on the couch. Rachel had picked up the shirt in the meantime, realising that the gifts she had given him seemed miserly compared to the huge amount he must have spent on her. ‘Thanks, babe. I can’t believe how much you’ve spoilt me! I’m so lucky to have you. Now your turn.’

Rachel looked at him nervously, waiting for some sign of ceremony; then, realising that with him in his current state she should just be happy that she’d soon be wearing his ring, she reached for the bag.

‘Oh wow, Tiffany’s!’ she exclaimed, playing her part to perfection.

Gary grinned. ‘Yep, nothing too shabby for my girl.’

Taking out the box, she smiled up at him, hoping she had done a good enough job of retying the ribbon so that he wouldn’t notice it had already been opened.

But it seemed he hadn’t spotted anything amiss. ‘Can’t wait to see it on you,’ he said, and Rachel swallowed hard.

Here we go . . .

She pulled at the delicate white ribbon and as it fell away she gently lifted the lid off the box. ‘Oh my goodness,’ she gasped wide-eyed, slowly opening the velvet ring box inside. By now, though, Rachel was no longer acting; the sheer beauty of the ring was more than enough to send her swooning all over again. ‘Gary . . .’

‘I knew you’d like it. I saw it and straight away I thought, yep, perfect for Rachel. She’ll be able to wear that with just about anything.’

His sense of humour certainly kept her on her toes, that was for sure. This really wasn’t the right time for joking around, although Gary was such a devil that she wouldn’t put it past him to keep her on tenterhooks just for the fun of it.

Despite his best attempts at levity, Rachel still couldn’t help but be overcome by the emotion of the moment. She smiled, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. ‘Well, yes, of course I will. I’ll never take it off.’

She looked up at him, still waiting for him to make some sort of romantic gesture, even if he wasn’t able to get down on one knee just yet.

‘Let’s have a look, then,’ he said. ‘Put it on.’

‘Well –’ she turned the box towards him ‘– I was hoping you’d help me with that.’

Suddenly Gary’s eyes grew even bigger than hers, and for a long moment he couldn’t seem to meet her gaze. The silence was just beginning to make her uncomfortable, when finally he spoke. ‘So you . . . erm, like it, then?’

Rachel’s eyes shone, and all of a sudden she understood. He was nervous; in spite of all his jokey bluster, the poor darling was terrified. ‘Gary, I
love
it! And I love you. I will be so proud to wear it.’

‘I . . . yeah . . . me too . . . I mean, proud to have you wear it,’ he fumbled, trying to sit up a little straighter. She nodded at him encouragingly, still holding out the box.

‘Oh . . . right,’ he said, reaching to take the ring out.

She set the box down and held out her left hand.

‘So, er, do you want to . . . will you marry me?’ Gary asked, his jaw quivering a little.

‘Yes, yes, I will, Gary. Of course I will!’ Rachel replied, a tear streaming down her cheek. She could never have imagined this would be so emotional. Leaning over to hug him, she then sat back to see that he was still wide-eyed. ‘You poor thing! I can’t believe you pulled this off in your condition. We could have waited till you were feeling better.’ Then she paused. ‘Oh who am I kidding?’ she continued, laughing and wiping another tear from her face. ‘I’m so glad you didn’t. It’s so gorgeous. I love it. And I love you!’ she beamed, holding the ring up so the diamond sparkled magnificently in the light.

‘Yeah, me too. Ah, how about some more of that champagne?’ he said, sounding weak – from the emotional strain of it all, no doubt.

‘Yes, of course. A toast!’ Her heart singing, Rachel topped up their glasses with what little champagne was left and picked them up. She handed him his glass, waiting for him to say something meaningful, but before she knew it he’d knocked it all back in one go.

‘To us,’ she said, faintly disappointed that he hadn’t waited, but what did it matter?

Taking a sip of champagne, she relished anew the lovely sensation of bubbles on her tongue. Here she was, in New York, engaged! And not only that but she now owned the most stupendous, amazing,
magnificent
Tiffany’s ring.

It was every girl’s dream come true.

Gulping down the last drops, she then turned and gave Gary a devilish smile. ‘Now, I know you’re not exactly in the best condition for any . . . energetic activity, but that doesn’t mean you can’t receive.’

She put her glass down and moved towards him.

‘Well, OK,’ was all Gary could say, and she felt him finally relax as she began placing feathery kisses on his lips, his neck, before gradually working her way down along his torso.

Looking back up at his face, she grinned mischievously. ‘Just a little taste of what you’ll be getting for the rest of our lives . . .’

‘Sounds good to me.’ Gary smiled, closing his eyes and resting his head on the back of the couch.

Later that night, well after Rachel had fallen asleep, Gary lay wide awake in bed beside her.

What the hell?

It was a question he kept asking himself for a very long time, the light from the digital clock on the nightstand reflecting off the side of his face in the darkness. Even after popping an extra Vicodin an hour ago, he just couldn’t quieten his mind long enough to nod off.

Over and over again he replayed the scenarios in his head: shopping for the bracelet . . . seeing the shop assistant wrap up and place the
bracelet
in the bag . . . going outside to hail a taxi . . . waking up in the hospital . . . then tonight, Rachel beaming at him as he placed this colossal diamond ring on her finger.

Eventually, he drifted off but in his dreams he was back in Tiffany’s, arguing with the blonde over how much his credit card had been dinged for. Was there some kind of girly conspiracy thing going on, or something?

Then, minutes later, he was once again wide awake, the images from his dream still clear in his head. Tiptoeing out of the room he slunk off into the sitting area and fired up his laptop to check his credit-card statement.

Gary took a deep breath. There it was in digital black and white; he had indeed only been charged a hundred and fifty dollars or so for the charm bracelet.

Well, OK then.

Granted, he hadn’t planned on getting married, but there was no denying that he’d done well out of this particular deal.

And now, through no fault or effort of his own, he was an engaged man. Gary’s stomach tightened. The timing wasn’t the best, that was for sure; not when there were a few . . . loose ends in play. He’d be under pressure now to tie them up – and quickly.

He supposed he’d have to introduce her to his mother soon too. That could be tricky. Hopefully his ma would keep her mouth shut. Well, he’d have a word in her ear beforehand to make sure she let nothing untoward slip about the . . . other situation.

He sat back on the sofa, thinking about Rachel.

Did he want to marry her? He could do worse for a wife, he reasoned, thinking of some of the girls he’d been involved with over the years. She was great fun, easy-going for the most part, and while she could be a bit overemotional at times, all women were a bit like that, weren’t they?

No, if he thought about it properly, Rachel was a great catch: she had her own business, was scorching between the sheets and, most importantly, wasn’t constantly in his ear about the time he spent off with the boys on the bikes.

Anyway, it was only engaged. A ring didn’t necessarily mean they had to get married in the morning, did it? Rachel certainly seemed happy enough with just a ring on her finger, and if she was happy maybe he should be too. One thing was for sure: he might as well make the most of being in the good books for as long as possible. Because if she ever found out about the other thing . . .