Always The Wedding Planner, Never The Bride Part 14

"It's a vintage design, circa 1960," she explained. "Fitted bodice with short lace sleeves, A-line satin skirt, empire waist with a ruched sash that ties in the back with a long bow. Very simple, very cla.s.sic, a beautiful shade of antique ivory."

She was almost afraid to ask the question, but before she allowed her enthusiasm to grow another centimenter . . .

"What size?"

Sarah went straight to it and plucked the hanger from a dozen others. She fluffed the simple skirt out toward them and displayed the dress. "I think this will fit you."

"Are you sure?"

Fee ran her hand along the skirt. "Dude, this is a killer dress."

"Really? You think so?" Sherilyn asked. It was a bit plain, but then . . . if it fit . . .

"Yes. Size twelve," Sarah told them.

Brightening, she asked Fee, "You really like it?"

"I want to buy it, and I'm not even engaged."

"It is in my size," she reasoned aloud.

"Sher, don't choose what fits you. Choose what you love, and we'll go from there."

"Let's get you into a dressing room and see what it looks like on you," Sarah suggested.

And the moment that she slipped into the dress, no trouble zipping it at all, Sherilyn gasped through the fingers that covered her mouth. Her eyes popped open wide, and she let out a soft coo of ecstasy at the sight of herself in the mirror.

It fits! Oh, thank G.o.d!

"This is it."

"It's perfect," Sherilyn purred, and she reached across the table and squeezed Andy's hand. "After something like twentyfive dresses, I finally found it. Right here in Atlanta, tucked away in the vintage section upstairs. Simple and sweet, and it's just my size. Seriously, it fit like a glove!"

"Right there, waiting for you," Andy said with a smile.

"Yes. And I like it so much better than any of the others in my size, even my AWOL dress from Chicago!"

He watched her as she sighed and leaned back into her chair. It was the closest thing to peace that he'd seen in Sherilyn since they'd arrived in Atlanta. And all it took was a dress.

"I should go up and look in on Russell," he commented, and she popped to attention again.

"No. Not yet. Give dinner time to digest or something. Let's at least have a cup of coffee together." His expression apparently gave her the idea she'd have to fight for her cause, and she switched to a different tack. "We've had no time together lately." She traced around his fingers on the tablecloth, and then caressed his hand with her thumb. "Can't we just enjoy it a few more minutes?"

Andy smiled just as the waitress approached the table. "Anything else for you? Would you like to see the dessert cart?"

"No, thank you," he replied. "But how about a couple of cappuccinos?"

"Certainly."

"Thank you." Sherilyn's grin lit up the immediate vicinity like a Roman candle. "So tell me about your job. You've hardly mentioned it. What do you think of the place?"

"It's fine, I suppose. Very different from where I've been, that's for sure."

"How so?"

"I'm used to a much faster pace. Most of my time was spent at the hospital with surgeries and consults and on-call. I only took appointments two days a week in the afternoon."

"A little more relaxed can be good, right?" she asked.

"I thought so." Did he dare tell her the truth? That he missed Chicago? He missed the job, the people, the pork sandwiches at The Boundary.

"Well, it's just a matter of adjustment, right?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Oh, yeah. I'm sure it is."

"You're not having second thoughts, right?"

He held still, mid-shrug. The concern showed a little in those tell-all eyes of hers.

"It's going to be fine," he rea.s.sured her. "It's just a matter of getting into a routine. What about you? How are things here?"

"Same thing. But there's no routine whatsoever." She chuckled. "Although I have to admit that I kind of like it."

"While we're talking about the unexpected," he interjected.

"Why don't you come upstairs with me? If nothing else, I'm sure Russell Walker will provide a good shot of surprise."

"That's a pretty safe bet."

"Two cappuccinos. Will there be anything else?"

"Thanks, no."

The light streaming from the window of the restaurant seemed to bend toward Sherilyn. She looked radiant, and so beautiful. Andy's stomach squeezed a little when she smiled at him; a mixture of love and guilt, he supposed. He still hadn't worked up the best way to tell her about running into Maya, but then he wasn't entirely certain that he needed to. It wasn't like they went out for coffee or a meal or anything. He'd just run into her unexpectedly. It was no more than five minutes out of his life. Did honesty really mean full and complete disclosure about absolutely everything?

Andy looked down at their hands on the table, fingers entwined, her thumb caressing him. It was like one complete sculpture rather than two separate ones joined together.

If she ran into one of her old loves, wouldn't I want her to mention it to me?

His thoughts paused momentarily. Had she ever actually mentioned anyone with whom she'd been deeply involved? Who had she dated before him? He stretched his memory in all directions, and he couldn't seem to come up with a name.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, jiggling his hand a little.

"I'm sorry. What?"

"Where did you go?"

"Oh, I was-Well, actually, I was thinking about Chicago."

"Don't worry, Andy," she teased. "I'm sure Jeff will be here for a playdate very soon."

He chuckled. "Are you ready?"

She nodded, sipping the last of the liquid from her cup. "Ready."

Her hand felt particularly tiny in his as they strolled through the lobby and to the elevator. He told himself to just be out with it, quick and easy, like pulling off a Band-Aid. It wasn't any big deal; but if it wasn't, why was it so hard to say it? He told himself he didn't want to upset her, he didn't want to make it seem like it meant anything, but something whispered to him from the very darkest recesses of his mind.

Did he still have feelings for Maya?

No! Impossible.

"Andy!" Sherilyn exclaimed. "This way."

"Oh. Sorry."

They turned the corner and found Sean seated outside Russell's door, the chair tilted back on two legs as he read the folded newspaper in his hands. The moment Sean saw them, he stood up and tossed the paper to the seat of his chair.

"Evening, Doc. Ms. Caine."

"How's our patient, Sean?"

"Restless, sir."

"I can only imagine."

Andy rapped his knuckles against the door twice before turning the k.n.o.b and pus.h.i.+ng it open. By the time he realized Russell was completely nude except for the guitar across his lap, Sherilyn had already followed him inside.

"Whoa, whoa," he exclaimed, spinning her around and leading her right back out the door toward Sean. "You'd better wait outside."

"Whadja do that for?" the unkempt actor asked.

"My fiancee doesn't need to see how indecent you really are, Russell."

"Indecent." Russell shoved the guitar to the bed beside him and leaned back into several pillows, stark naked and unashamed. "That's not a very nice thing to say, now is it?"

Andy s.n.a.t.c.hed the terrycloth robe from the hook on the back of the bathroom door and aimed it at Russell's midsection. "Speaking of not very nice," he quipped.

"Sorry then," he answered with a laugh. "I didn't quite peg you as a wowser, Doc."

"Andy. How are you feeling today? How's your leg?"

"Hurts like an angry boomer, mate." He spread the robe across himself and grinned. "Here, all covered up. Call your sheila back in here now."

"I think my sheila is fine where she is," Andy said, sitting on the side of the bed. "Define the pain for me. Where and how?"

Russell pulled back the robe a bit to display at least two feet of black and blue that ran up his thigh and to his side. The blood-soaked bandage on his s.h.i.+n pulled away easily, and Andy unzipped his leather bag for fresh supplies.

"Any additional pain from the fall?"

"My shoulder aches."

"Where?" he asked, and he placed his hand over Russell's shoulder like a cap and squeezed slightly.

"Yeah!" he reacted. "Right there, thankyouverymuch."

Andy examined him, wondering if the rotator cuff had sustained a full tear. He dressed the wound on Russell's leg and inspected the swelling under his right eye.

"You're a mess," Andy said while packing away his supplies.

"You're not the first to make that observation."

"I believe you. So what happened to Danielle? Did she abandon you?"

"Wally walkabout," he replied.

"And in English?"

"Wally is like an idiot," he explained. "That would be me. And a walkabout is when someone heads out for another view. Sometimes forever."

"Ah. Sorry."

"No need. Couldn't expect her to stick around the woopwoop."

"The . . . ?"

"Here in nowhere land, mate."

"I see."

"Can't say I don't miss having a female in the place though. What's your sheila's name?"

"Sherilyn."

"Sherilyn." He repeated it as if he'd taken a bite out of the name and was checking it out for taste. "Lovely. She's a looker, that one."

"That she is," he replied with a smile. "I'll bring over some ice packs. Emma can keep them in the freezer, and they'll bring them up to you a couple of times a day."

"Ice," he said. "Anything to go with it? A little Hoochery?"

"Hoochery?"

"Corn mash whiskey from down under."

"Yeah, there'll be none of that for you, Russell. This ice will be straight up, applied to your shoulder for about twenty minutes, twice a day."

"Be a dag, will ya, Doc?"

"If a dag is straight-talking, then yes. That's me."