The Lie by Natalie Wrye (most inspirational books of all time .txt) 📗

And I wonder if that’s what happens—happens when a man puts on one of these outfits… He turns to stone.

I’m seconds from turning to stone as Jennifer points at me and says, “Take off your shirt. I can take measurements from there, then we’ll get a tux made to fit you.”

I look around, feeling like I’m being tricked. But there’s no one else here. Just us.

I turn my back to her, pretending I’m not totally aware of her presence, but I can hear her breathing.

I’m not entirely sure how I got here. I told myself that I’d come here to get a tux. To get myself ready for Hannah’s wedding. And I was prepared to do that.

But the more I see of the store, the more nerves rise to the surface, and the more I start to think that, somewhere in my life, if I had only made a different turn…where would I be?

The mannequins are all beautiful. All elegant. All poised.

Their painted faces and flowing dresses. Their slicked-back hair and perfect manicures.

I take off my shirt just as Jennifer appears in the curtain, measuring tape in hand.

Wearing a white shirt with a buttoned waist and a heavy black apron, her lips curl into a pleased smile when she sees my naked chest. I try not to read too much into it, standing still as she pokes and prods and places the tap near my biceps, her hands lingering a little too long.

“Here’s the problem,” she comments without prompt. “A good tuxedo can change a man, Andrew.” She casts me a look, her eyes softening as she hands me a shirt to go with the tux. “It’s just—you’ve got a great body. And I know that it could do well with a bit of help.”

I'm still not sure if I should feel flattered or insulted.

But something about the way she says it makes me think that she means that in a good way.

The other problem she fails to mention is this store.

A bridal store.

A store where wedding dresses hang on every wall.

And for reasons I'd rather not get into, all this shop does is make me think of Nancy.

My little kitty.

All alone in my family estate with me.

She said she had errands to run. I didn't ask.

I didn't have time to.

With Sabrina whisking me out of the door, it was nearly impossible. But now that I'm here, staring at long white dresses and lace veils, all I can think about is how my fake fiancée would look wearing one…

When she wears one. What she would look like. Who would be there?

Every minute I spend with her, I recognize that my fake relationship with her is slowly turning into something more real. And I still don't know how I feel.

I don’t know if I'm at all worthy…after all that I've done.

But then Jennifer's voice cuts into my thoughts. Blue eyes blinking up at me, she points near my crotch, a hint of humor flickering in the oceanic depths. She steps forward. “Now, your pants.”

“Excuse me?”

“Drop your pants. I need to measure them.”

‘Is that necessary?” I ask, gravel entering my voice.

I don't know if I trust this. But I've never been fit for a tux before.

If my family had tried… I'd have gone down kicking and screaming, swearing all the while.

Hell, I still might.

This process feels fucked.

My eyes harden in the bridal employee's direction, suspicion getting the best of me as I stare across the space, the room growing hot. “I can't drop my pants.”

Jennifer blinks. “Why not?”

“Because I'm not wearing any underwear.”

“You’re not wearing underwear right now?” She clutches the tuxedo jacket between her fingers closer, fingers digging into the fabric. “Isn’t that a problem for…you?”

She lowers her eyes, and I reach out, taking the black jacket from her fingers, but her touch lingers.

As for me… I get a proper clutch on the jacket, needing to rush this along.

I slip on the shirt and the jacket and step back towards the mirror, surprised at what I see.

I actually look decent. No, more than decent.

I actually look nice.

Never thought I’d say this, but I can see the appeal. The tuxedo brings a sophisticated touch, an elegant touch.

A touch that says, Take me seriously.

I wonder if Nancy could ever do that. If I’d ever let her.

Or if I would be the same man…just in different clothes.

Over my shoulder, I stare in the mirror at Jennifer, who hasn’t stopped looking, her eyes curious and gazing close.

“Can't you just take the pants measurement without me getting completely naked?”

Jennifer nods and disappears behind me, causing me to draw a breath—a heavy one full of exhaustion.

I'm sick of this tux fitting already.

I only want to get back to Nancy—get her back to bed.

The thought of my little pixie, naked and waiting for me, has me reaching for my phone.

I’m missing her. And I’ve never missed a woman before…

Ever.

My eyes flit up to the mirror, discovering a new Drew that I don’t even recognize.

Running from the man in my reflection, I stuff my phone back into my pocket and rush to the curtain separating me from the rest of the store, yanking it back.

“Jennifer—" I start, but the blonde is already there, her hand on the thin material, her eyes on the carpeted floor.

“I’m sorry, I—” She looks up at me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…go so far. I think that's all I need.”

I start to take the shirt off and then stop.

I look around the dressing room, the air moving in and out of my lungs, fogging up the mirrors and turning the hair on my arms into a single mass of goosebumps.

Buttoning my own shirt back up again, my fingers shake, my body fighting off a convulsion as I realize that there’s a beautiful woman in front of me.

And I don’t even want her.

I only want one.

And I’ve been lying to her this whole time.

Jennifer steps forward, her tiny hand wrapping around my arm. She squeezes.

“Is there a problem? You look like you’re going