Natalie was amazed at how much the simple act of washing her hair — something she hadn't done since the morning of the accident — improved her spirits. It hadn't been easy, but Sharona had figured out how to have her lean over the bathtub while resting her torso against an inflatable pillow, and she had taped plastic wrap over the stitches on her forehead. Together, they had managed the task with a modicum of fuss.

Now, instead of having lank, oily, dull hair, she had hair that was shiny, soft, and smelled of her favorite jasmine-scented shampoo and conditioner. She yearned for the day when she could take a long, hot bath or even a long, steamy shower again, but that was still at least two weeks away, according to Sharona; her surgical incision needed more time to heal.

It felt odd spending so much time with Sharona, and being so dependent on her — dependent to a degree that even Adrian hadn't been while Sharona had been his nurse/assistant. Sharona needed to help her to the bathroom, bring her food, drinks, and medication, change her bandages, adjust her pillows — anything that required moving a more than a little bit.

She'd been a little skeptical when Adrian and her father had told her about hiring Sharona to be her nurse, but, Natalie had to admit, Sharona was very professional about it, and clearly very experienced at her job. It was easier having her around than a complete stranger, especially for Adrian's sake. Any other nurse would have balked at his OCD tendencies, but to Sharona, they were old hat. In fact, Sharona had told Natalie that she was impressed at how much he'd improved. He spent far less time compulsively cleaning than he had when Sharona had been in his employ.

Sharona helped her down the stairs and onto the couch shortly before two. She carefully arranged her pillows, then made sure Natalie had a fresh cold pack for her ribs, a glass of water, and some ibuprofen within arm's reach, just in case.

"Thanks," Natalie said gratefully. "You're going to stick around, aren't you?"

"If you want me to, sure," Sharona said, pleased to be included. The doorbell rang a moment later, and she hopped up to answer, admitting Cassandra into the room a moment later. "Hi, I'm Sharona Fleming," she said, shaking Cassandra's hand. "I'm Natalie's nurse. And a friend, too."

"And a bridesmaid," Natalie chimed in, from the couch.

"Oh, you're THAT Sharona? It's so nice to meet you!" Cassandra wore a lavender skirt suit with an ivory blouse underneath. Her silky black hair swung loosely around her face as she enthusiastically shook Sharona's hand. She carried a bulky beige leather messenger bag, which she dumped by the coffee table as she went to gingerly hug Natalie.

"You look great!" Cassandra said, her dark, almond-shaped eyes earnest. "You really do!"

"Thanks," Natalie said. It was nice to hear, even though she knew it wasn't strictly true — the scrapes and bruises on her face had faded, but they were still visible, and her forehead laceration stood out like a beacon. She'd thought about covering it up with a bandage, but Sharona had advised to keep it exposed to the open air in order to facilitate healing.

Cassandra took a seat on the wingback chair next to the couch. "Ready to get started?"

"My parents are on their way, and I'd like to wait for my mother — " Natalie began.

"I think they're here," Sharona said, peering out the window.

Sure enough, Peggy and Bobby came in a moment later. Peggy was dressed immaculately, as she almost always was, in an expensive pale pink pantsuit. Bobby was a bit more casual in khakis and a pale yellow polo shirt. They kissed Natalie hello, and she introduced Cassandra to them.

"Uh oh," Bobby said, his eyes twinkling. "If it's going to become wedding planning central in here, I think I'll go take a walk."

"Have fun, Dad," Natalie said with a grin. Sharona disappeared into the kitchen to make coffee, and Peggy announced she needed to visit the bathroom to freshen up.

As they left, Cassandra opened her messenger bag and hefted a large binder. "Here's your wedding book," she said, carefully placing it on Natalie's lap. "It should be just as you left it."

"That's a relief," Natalie said, opening it with pleasure. "Did you look through it at all?"

"I did," Cassandra said, pulling her laptop out of her bag and firing it up, "and I updated your file with what you'd marked as settled — the invitation wording, the cake, and so on. But the invitations, of course, are still on hold until you say otherwise."

"If you want, you can give the printer a tentative date of four weeks from now," Natalie said, sighing, "but that still may be subject to change. It depends on my progress, unfortunately." She shifted, moving her ice pack up slightly. "I'm going to have a check-up in two weeks, and again two weeks after that, and if I'm not making adequate improvement with my recovery we may need to push the wedding date back a few months. But I'm hoping that won't be the case."

Cassandra made a note. "I think the printer will be able to work with us on that. Do you have another date in mind, if June fourth doesn't work out?"

"Not yet," Natalie said. "Maybe July, but it could be as late as October. I need to talk more with Adrian about it."

"How's he doing?" Cassandra asked, busily typing.

"He's… fine, I guess," Natalie said, slightly startled by the question. Everyone always asked how she was doing; few people inquired about Adrian's well-being.

"I felt awful for him," Cassandra said with sympathy. "He looked so wrecked that day I was at his apartment."

That must have been the morning after her accident, Natalie supposed.

"I'd never seen him like that before," Cassandra continued. "Usually he looks so snappy and put-together, you know? But he opened the door and I thought — well, I don't know what I thought. I was just so shocked to see him looking so… so unkempt. Then he told me what had happened to you, and he said that he'd spent the whole night at the hospital. I felt really horrible that I'd woken him up."

Natalie smiled, a little sadly. "I'm sure the appointment was the last thing on his mind."

"Oh, no doubt," Cassandra agreed. "I'm so glad he let me make him breakfast. He was — "

"Wait, what?" Natalie interrupted.

"He didn't tell you?" Cassandra laughed. "I asked him if there was anything I could do to help, but all he asked of me was to take your wedding stuff for safekeeping. But when he mentioned he was going to eat something, I volunteered to make him breakfast while he took a shower and changed clothes – I think he'd slept in the ones he was wearing; they were all wrinkled. It took me four tries to get his egg right, and even then I'm not sure it was very good, but he was gracious about it."

"You made him his favorite breakfast?" Natalie said, her heart practically melting in her chest. "That was so sweet of you."

"Well, gosh, I wanted to do something to cheer him up, poor guy. I just hope it helped."

"I'm sure it did," Natalie said warmly, just as Sharona came over with a tray of coffee and cups. Peggy came back in as well.

"Okay," Cassandra said, studying her monitor. "Let's review what we have decided so far…"

The planning continued for an hour more, then Cassandra had to leave for another appointment. To Natalie's surprise, her mother had very accommodating, not once trying to throw her weight around or force her own opinions. But that may have been due to Cassandra's tactful approach of asking her perspective on every detail, right down to the cocktail napkins, which flattered Peggy to no end. Or perhaps Peggy herself had realized that the quickest way to get shut out of her only daughter's wedding — again — was to act as she had before, and was making an effort to restrain herself.

After Cassandra left, Sharona insisted that Natalie take a nap. Natalie, who was feeling more wiped out than she'd anticipated, didn't argue.

Natalie woke, suddenly, to the feel of a hand on her hair. She gasped, startled, and Adrian drew back his hand.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"That's okay," she said, grimacing slightly from the pain in her ribs as she relaxed back onto her pillows. She noticed the room was much dimmer than it had been when she'd fallen asleep. "What time is it?"

"Just after six," he said.

No wonder she'd woken up — she'd been asleep for nearly three hours.

"Where's Sharona?"

"I told her to go home for the night."

"Are my parents still here?"

"They said they were going to go get some take-out for supper."

She suddenly noticed that he looked exhausted — and sad, too. "Are you okay?"

He gingerly sat on the couch. "The case was… well, horrible."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. "It was brutal. You don't need those images in your head." He shuddered slightly. "I know I promised I'd tell you all about it, but I won't. I'm actually glad you couldn't be a part of this one."

She was even more concerned now. It was rare that a case affected him like this. Then again, he'd been under an enormous amount of stress lately. He'd been handling it remarkably well, but he was only human.

Her worrying was interrupted by the arrival of her parents, who came bearing take-out boxes of Chinese food. She ate, but kept a careful eye on Adrian, who only picked at his food and brooded over it. After her parents had left and the house was quiet, he helped her upstairs and into bed.

"Will you stay with me for a little while?" she asked, more because she didn't think he should be alone right now.

"Of course," he said, and settled himself on the bed next to her. Moving very slowly and carefully, she eased next to him so she could lay her head on his chest, tucking a pillow between them to support her sore ribs. His arm came around her, very gently, and he rested his cheek on her hair.

They cuddled in silence. After a long while, he sighed with contentment and kissed the top of her head. "You smell like flowers," he murmured.

"Sharona figured out how to wash my hair," she said, idly playing with his fingers. "Cassandra came over so I wanted to look somewhat presentable."

"Did you have a good time?" He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her fingers rubbing his palm.

"It was a lot of fun," she said. "We talked about the food for the reception and a few other things."

He let his head loll against the pillows. "What are we having again?" He vaguely remembered discussing reception entree choices with her the night of her accident, before everything had gone to hell, but he was so tired at the moment that he couldn't remember what they'd talked about.

"We're going Italian. The main course is a choice between chicken cacciatore and or veal parmigiana, and there's also the option of fettuccine alfredo for any vegetarians."

"Right. I love chicken cacciatore," he said, his eyes still closed.

"I know you do," she grinned. It had been Trudy's favorite, so now it was his. "The sides are green beans almondine and garlic mashed potatoes, and we'll have warm yeast rolls too. Plus Caesar salad to start with."

"Sounds delicious." He yawned. "I'll bet Cassandra was happy to see you."

"I think so." Which reminded her of something else. "You didn't tell me that she made you breakfast."

"Huh?" His eyes opened and he blinked a few times, his eyes cloudy with confusion. Then they cleared. "Oh, right. That was the morning after… everything happened."

"I thought it was sweet."

"It was a really nice gesture," he agreed. "I hadn't eaten anything since supper with you the night before, and I was starving."

"She said you looked like you'd slept in your clothes."

"Probably because I had."

She craned her head to look up at him. "You never sleep in your clothes." He either wore pajamas or, if they'd made love prior to going to sleep, nothing at all.

He shrugged. "I did that morning. When I got home, I was so exhausted that I just collapsed."

"Poor guy," she said, echoing Cassandra's earlier lament.

He snorted. "I wasn't the one in intensive care at the time."

"Still," she said, settling her head against his chest again, "I'm sorry this has been so rough on you."

"You're not blaming yourself for that, are you?" he said, frowning.

"No," she said, her tone pragmatic. "I just wish I could take care of you as well as you're taking care of me right now."

He chuckled at that. "You took care of me constantly for years, and you did an amazing job of it, too. It's about time I returned the favor." He kissed the top of her head. "And you're taking care of me right now. It helps, just laying here and holding you."

She smiled. "I'm glad it helps."

He kissed her again. "I'm going to go change into my pajamas, and then I'll be back."

Later that evening, when he was sound asleep next to her, she turned on the TV — the volume set low so as not to disturb him — and watched for a possible mention of his case from today on the ten o'clock news. The newscaster only reported one homicide, a gruesome torture-murder — with a source reporting possible decapitation as the cause of death — involving a young woman around Julie's age. She was glad to hear that a suspect was in custody already, which was probably why Adrian had spent most of the day working on it. No wonder he'd been so upset when he got home.

She turned off the TV, took her evening medication — handily arranged on the bedside table for her convenience — and positioned her pillows so she could lay beside him in relative comfort. She drifted to sleep while holding his hand.