Chapter 2
Sharon despised lateness and getting ready for a date with Andy was no exception. She was packed and dressed on time. She took Andy's advice and wore a simple a-line black dress with a square neckline and sheer sleeves. For jewelry, she wore the silver Tiffany's pendant Andy had given her for Christmas with the interlocking circles, tiny dangle diamonds in her ears, and a silver filigree bangle wrist watch. Black pumps with pointed toes completed the outfit.
Andy looked good enough to eat in his classic black suit and gray tie. He was giving Rusty a little piece of paper when Sharon walked into the kitchen.
"That has the name, address, and phone number of the hotel," he told Rusty. "And you have Sharon's cell and mine."
"Don't forget to arm the alarm," added Sharon.
"And leave the floodlights on," cautioned Andy.
Rusty rolled his eyes. "And I won't talk to strangers. Geez. I'm not a kid. I think I can handle being by myself for a night." But even as Rusty said it, he found their concern touching.
"There's some leftover chicken parmesan in the green container in the fridge. Sharon didn't make it so it's absolutely edible." Rusty and Andy shared a chuckle and Sharon glared at them.
"Andy and I will be back a little after eleven tomorrow morning. We're taking you to brunch." Sharon kissed the top of Rusty's head. The white floral scent of her perfume was comfortingly familiar.
Andy patted his shoulder. "Call us if you need anything, buddy."
Rusty rolled his eyes again but he was smiling. "You know—you two should just get married already," He had to stifle a laugh at the awkwardness that his observation created. There was a telling silence as Andy and Sharon avoided eye contact. It was so utterly obvious how crazy about one another they were. What Rusty didn't know was that Andy already had a little black box in his pocket with a ring in it and it was his intention to ask Sharon to marry him tonight.
As for Sharon, she had sworn that she would never, ever marry again after the debacle that had been her 32 year marriage to Richard Raydor.
But she hadn't accounted for Andy Flynn.
Sharon was a planner. She liked routines and schedules. She was the kind of woman who woke up at the same time every day, ran the same route on the local bike path, ate the same low carb spinach bagel with low fat cream cheese almost every morning. She was logical and pragmatic, analytical and focused. She had married for the first time out of a sense of duty to her parents, out of a sense of responsibility. By her own admission, love had never been in the equation. She didn't always know what to make of her whirlwind feelings toward Andy Flynn. She even had moments when she found the whole experience completely overwhelming. But Andy was always there to steady her in the eye of the storm and she had faith in him-in them. She trusted him implicitly. He was completely unexpected, a random, perfect serendipity. He was a welcome chaos in the streamlined order of her life. And she loved him with all of her heart. Sharon could rattle off a thorough checklist with all the reasons that a second marriage would be impractical and ill advised. But Andy Flynn defied them all.
Rusty watched Andy and Sharon as they walked toward the door, Andy's hand resting on the small of her back. "Have fun, you two." He grinned at them and waved when they turned to exchange a final goodbye.
Andy hadn't been nervous about proposing to Sharon until that moment when Rusty mentioned it and she suddenly hadn't been able to look at him. He had been so caught up in his feelings for her that he had never really considered the possibility that his intentions might not be welcome. It wasn't that he was overly confident or egotistical about it. It was simply because he was so excited about the prospect of making her his wife that love triumphed over reason.
They were both uncharacteristically quiet as Andy drove to the opera house, each of them thinking intently about Rusty's innocent remark regarding marriage. Andy's palms were suddenly sweaty on the steering wheel as he stole glances at Sharon in the dark car. She looked so beautiful. They were so happy. He had felt so certain that marrying her was the right thing—not out of any obligation, not because he had to or because they "should" but because he simply wanted to. He loved her in a way that he had never loved any woman before; he didn't even know what he was missing until she had come along. They had danced a little bit around the topic of marriage. Andy had gotten vibes that she was open to the idea.
What if he were wrong?
What if he were pushing her—asking for too much too soon? What if he had misread the signals? Sharon's twin Samantha had assured him that Sharon's answer would be an unequivocal yes. But how could anybody be sure? Her previous marriage had been a disaster. Richard had put her through hell during the divorce proceedings—which had gone on for almost a year. And now six months later he wanted to put a ring on her finger. What if asking her to marry him compromised their relationship? The idea of losing her was so incredibly awful that he felt his stomach clench into a heavy knot. Andy almost jumped when he felt her hand gently rubbing his arm.
"You're awfully quiet," she coaxed.
"Am I? Sorry. I just don't want to miss the exit," he lied. His mouth felt like the Sahara desert. He felt as if he couldn't get enough air and nervously cracked his window.
Sharon leaned over and kissed his shoulder. "You smell so good," she breathed. "Any chance you're going to tell me where we're going?"
They were getting pretty close to L.A.'s opera house—the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. Sharon would figure out their destination, no doubt, in a couple of minutes. She had moved her attention from his arm to his knee, which she was now rubbing with the flat of her palm.
"While your efforts at seducing me into revealing where we're going are very, very highly appreciated, ma'am, you are just going to have to be surprised."
Sharon's response was a quiet, defeated hum. While she stopped rubbing, she didn't take her hand away from his knee and Andy found himself extremely aware of her.
"Thank you for this, Andy. For taking me away….for always seeming to know what I need." Her voice caressed him.
The knot in Andy's stomach was turning into full-fledged nausea as they turned into the valet parking lot. Like the Met in New York City this opera house also had a famed fountain in front and it had been Andy's intention to propose in front of it after the opera.
He heard her sharp little intake of breath as realization dawned on her. "You're taking me to the opera?" Sharon asked. The lilting bubble of excitement in her voice should have calmed his nerves but it didn't. "Oh, Andy—that's so sweet." Her smile was soft and genuine. "I haven't been in years." Andy stopped the car for the valet, gave him the keys, and emerged from the car. Another valet had opened Sharon's door for her so all Andy had to do was walk over to her and take her arm.
Sharon nuzzled her lips against Andy's ear so that he could hear her above the hum of the fountain. It was a beautiful night with the lights from the opera house in the distance, the balmy breeze, and the starry sky above.
"What are we going to see?" she asked him. Her breath was soft and warm against his earlobe.
Sharon had begun to get a little worried. Andy was not himself. Usually he was chatty and funny, peppering her with jokes and stories. He was unusually quiet tonight, almost faltering, his face was pale, and when she reached for him to slide her hand into his, his touch was clammy.
"Marriage of Figaro," Andy answered. It had seemed like such a romantic choice at the time. First, because he knew it was Sharon's favorite opera and second because he was going to propose to her.
"Andy—are you all right?" Sharon's green eyes were focused on him and she looked absolutely worried.
"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine." Andy looked and sounded anything but fine. Sharon steered him over to a bench.
"Sit," she ordered. And she sounded like she meant it. "Andy honey, I don't like your color. You're not having any pain are you?" She looked as panicked as he felt as she looked him over.
Oh God. Andy suddenly felt like a colossal idiot. Here he was having an anxiety attack over the prospect of possibly ruining their relationship with a premature marriage proposal and Sharon was looking at him like he was having a heart attack. Which, given the way he probably looked, was a very fair assumption. Way to go, Flynn. Really smooth.
To make matters worse, an elderly couple sitting across from them on the opposite bench seemed fascinated by their interaction. So not only was he humiliating himself in front of Sharon, he was doing it in public, too. Just great.
Sharon wasn't sure what she should go for first-the cell phone or the aspirin. She opened her purse frantically and began digging around for whichever she touched first, bottle or cell phone. Her shaky fingers had just closed on the metal device when Andy grabbed her wrist and looked directly into her eyes with an expression of pure supplication.
"Marry me," he said hoarsely. Sharon froze.
"Are you—is that what this-?"
"Yes," he managed with a dry laugh. "Real romantic." He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a small black velvet box. "I have a ring. This isn't how-." Andy had to catch his breath. "I love you so much. I know I'm not making any sense. This all seemed like such a good idea at the time and I'm making a horrible mess out of it because—"
"You changed your mind," Sharon finished for him.
"No…no That's not it at all, Sharon." How could he explain that what he wanted, more than anything else in the world, was her? Just her. Words simply wouldn't come. He had been reduced to a babbling idiot so he did the only sensible thing that could be done. Andy pulled her against him with tremendous force, cupping her face with both hands. He kissed her fiercely because he felt that the world had suddenly tilted upside down and she was the gravity that would right him.
"Andy—" Sharon breathed.
"I'm rushing you. I'm so sorry. I should have talked to you first. We don't have to do this now."
"Andy—"Sharon tried again.
"You don't have to say anything. Just don't—I don't want to lose you."
Sharon was meeting his searching gaze with an expression of pure, unadulterated affection. It wasn't the look of a woman who wanted out of a relationship. It was the look of a woman in love.
Before he could interrupt her again, she posed an urgent question. "Can I say yes?" she asked.
"You want to?"
"Yes, I do," she answered meaningfully. She smiled then.
The elderly couple across the way looked terribly confused by the entire baffling exchange. Any question though was cleared up when Andy opened up the box and slipped a diamond ring as tasteful and classy as she was on Sharon's left hand.
