By Didi
Disclaimer: Anyone out there that still thinks that I might actually own anything in association with this story after reading the other hundred disclaimers for every story I've ever written to have their reality checked for stalls. Thanks.
Timeline: I have no idea where the hell the timeline is on this thing anymore. This started out as a ten chapter max story and kind of grew legs of its own and ran with me trying to catch up.
Rating: It's probably R for this chapter. Tell me if you disagree.
Author's Note: Hum… now it feels like it's winding down.
Summary: What would you do in the name of love? Questions of Love and Parental Acceptance.
"Where is that report?" Harriet demanded from the door. If ever a doctor was pissed, it would be her.
The two technicians looked up guiltily from their newest tech manual and scrambled back to their respective positions at the long counter. James pulled the printout from his basket and handed it over, snatching his hand back quickly when Harriet's brow's came together dangerously sharp. "We were going to run it down to your office but you said that…"
"Be quiet," she commanded as her eyes peered through the concaved glass and studied the long column of numbers. Her annoyance was more because of the pressures she was facing than the delay on the test results. "I don't need excuses, I need results," she told them absentmindedly as she continued to scan the printout. "Oh, heads up on another batch from my office on my two premies that are on their way to…" Her voice trailed off as her concentration shifted. She lifted her glasses higher on her nose. "Are these correct?"
David glanced at his partner and shrugged. "As far as we know."
She looked up with concern and tucked the sheet into her pocket before taking her reading glasses off. "Run the test again. I need a second set."
"With the original sample, Doctor?" James asked.
"Do we have anything left?" Harriet asked.
"You pulled a double so we should have enough to run a second round on the…" David started to explain.
"Then do it," Harriet said abruptly as she moved toward the door once more. "I want that result ASAP. Consider this an emergency," and left.
Making her way through the hallways, Harriet paused for a moment and pulled the printout form her pocket again. Frowning, she moved toward the white phone on the wall. "Bonnie, get me the emergency number for Dr. Keating."
Matt's eyes went wide on his face and he attempted to put words into sentences, "Darling… you… that is…" but his brain functions seemed to have taken a rather unexpected nosedive. So, he ended up with, "Wow."
Laughing, Jules slipped her feet into the golden sandals before turning around to search for earrings. "I take it you approve?"
"Approve?" he was having a bit of difficulty completing his own toiletries when all he wanted to do was sit down and simply stare at her. He had to wonder how he had managed to resist her so long. They've worked in the same hospital for years now; and while he's always felt a slight tug of attraction when in her presence, as he would with any attractive women, he's never known this kind of breathtaking wonder before. Did she turn more beautiful in that time or was he just finally allowing himself to see? No, it was because he finally allowed himself to feel the attraction rather than ignore it, bury it for the sake of their friendship. And now… "Darling that dress only better enhances what I already suspected."
"Which is?" picking up little glass beaded earrings that matched her dress.
Deciding that he really couldn't resist, like moth to a flame, he left his half wound tie and pulled her to him. Pressing a kiss on her perfectly made up lips, "That you are a fairy queen."
Blinking rapidly, she asked, "Fairy?"
"Oh yes," nodding his head seriously, "And in that sunset dress…"
"Sunset?" glancing down. The silk slip dress lack a pattern but the splashes of browns, gold, reds and bronze that were blended arbitrary had been so pretty she couldn't resist.
"Uh um…" holding her tight. "I love the way it makes your skin glow, like you had stepped out of a dream I once had."
"A dream?" lifting the tie slowly and began to create a perfect Windsor knot. "What kind dream?"
He grinned mischievously. "The kind one does not talk about in mix company."
Stifling a giggle, she swatted him on the arm. "Finish getting dressed, I don't want to be late for the wedding."
He pressed a kiss on her cheek and reached for his shoes. "Darling, I wanted to forewarn you about something."
"That you're parents are going to be there and that they still don't know that I'm your date for this lovely event?"
"Um… er…. Yeah."
Jules let out a delighted laugh as she spun around the room and bounced on the bed. "Think they'll be terrible surprise?"
"Honestly?" he said sitting down next to her and sighed. "I'm not sure."
"Well, if they aren't, then why should we worry? And if they are, well…" she tilted her head and studied the ceiling for a moment in contemplation. "Let's call it payback for dropping in on us the way they did in the states."
He smiled and took her hand into his. He felt… content. Really, really content at the moment and he didn't particular want to leave this room and loose that sense of perfection that was only just beginning to really appreciate. His world, the world where his father lived in, was very different from hers. Nobody danced at the steps of a hospital, they didn't stay up half the night enjoying popcorn and telling bad stories of idealist youth, they didn't buy a fortune's worth of silly Looney Toons merchandise and drink endless supply of coffee. No, his people danced the waltz, slept on satin sheets, sent their children to boarding schools so they won't be underfoot, bought only the best of everything and drank excessive amount of alcohol to feel normal. They turned their noses up at anything that wasn't to their so-call standing where Jules would hug a beggar as she would the Queen of England.
They were a world apart and yet he couldn't want her more.
"What times does the ceremony start?" she asked, wondering at his shift in mood. "Matt?" He was staring at their joined hands with such a pensive smile. "What's wrong?" squeezing his fingers.
"I've always assumed that I would end my days as a bachelor, did you know that?"
She really couldn't quite help herself, though she was pretty sure he wanted a serious conversation with her, "I always assume you'd be like Hugh Hefner, a playboy well into your seventies. Though I would imagine that you'd probably hold up better with age than ole' Hugh."
Because she looked so impishly adorable with that grin on her face, her lightly freckled nose wrinkled with amusement and her eyes sparkling with laughter, he kissed her. It wasn't the passionate kiss they had shared the night before, or the sweet one he had given her moments ago, this one was different. They one was tender, gentle, and infinitely more intimate because this one came from the soul, not just the heart or head. This one told her that he loved her rather than just showed her.
"Matt?" she questioned when he finally pulled away. "What's going through that that head of yours?"
He took a deep breath. "Will you consider marrying me?"
That came out of the left field. "Huh?"
Sometimes, his sense of humor reared its head at the most absurd times. "Wow, having never proposed before, that wasn't the first or last reaction I was expecting."
Giving him a good glare, "I don't think that was a proposal I heard. You asked if I would consider marrying you. Not, 'will you marry me;' that I would know how to answer."
"Really?" his accent more pronounced in that one world than in the last several sentences.
"Yes, really," she said mockingly.
Slingerland sighed, playing with the fingers of the hand he held. "Jules…"
"What?" she prodded expectedly.
"I…" he frowned, a little hesitant. "Jules, I'm not quite certain where I am in this at the moment. I do know that I love you, but I cannot be completely certain that I'm ready for the next step." He made a helpless gesture. "I do know that if I had asked you to marry me two seconds ago, you would have said no."
Jules opened her mouth to refute it but stopped herself. She wasn't going to lie to him.
"You would have assumed," he touched his head to hers for a moment, "that I was caught up in the pleasure of the moment and with Drew getting married today and our deciding that a baby would be a good addition into our lives…" He laughed softly; amazed that such a thought didn't so much as make him want to cringe. "And you would have done the noble thing, whether you wanted to marry me or not." He finally looked at her, finding her staring back him with unblinking eyes. "How close am I?"
Bring her hand up she measured about a centimeter with her forefinger and thumb. "About this close?" then dropped her hand and kissed his cheek. She took a deep breath and smiled at him. She felt good, really good. "Thanks for the heads up on this."
He watched her. "Are we all right?"
"No," she told him with a laugh as she pulled him to his feet. "We're going to be black and blue if Andrew found out we were up here talking instead of getting to the wedding on time."
"Jules?" when she pulled away to get her purse.
"Um?"
Because he had to say it, "You truly do amaze me, did you know that?"
"Yes," taking his hand as they headed out the door. "But I promise not to let it go to my head."
"Will you stop fussing?" Delilah yelled as she tugged fretfully at her dress. Every single person around her were all smoothing out or touching or playing with the quarter million dollar satin gown that weighted a ton and was too warm for the humid weather. She's got a headache from the evening before, as she usually did and ten thirty was too ghastly early for anyone to be getting married. On top of that, she was in desperate need of a cigarette.
And Andrew allowed too many of his friends into her wedding day preparation. It hadn't dawned on her yet that only two of Andrew's party were in the dressing room, and were the only two that wasn't giggling and gossiping and talking at all.
Jules and Missy stepped to the side, away from the dozen or so maid of honors that were chatting just a little too happily to the obviously annoyed bride. They were both polite enough not to smirk as the Delilah snapped at another one of her friends that attempted to 'help' the bride with her make-up.
"Thirty pounds say the one with the blue flowers is attempting to paint the bride into a clown," Missy offered out of the corner of her mouth.
Suppressing her giggles, "Fifty bucks says the one wearing the golf ball ruby on her pinky is going to 'accidentally' rip the gown before the ceremony begins."
"No, no darling," Missy said sipping her insipid juice and water. "The one trying to upstage the bride with that horrid shiny dress is going to rip that horribly expensive gown. The one with the ruby is going to trip the bride into the wedding cake."
Jules choked on her cranberry juice. "I bow to your superior knowledge of this scene."
Missy grinned as she touched her glass with Jules's. "I'm a fright, I'll gladly admit. It's one of the reasons mi mum always feared that I would end my days as a lonely grumpy spinster."
"And look at you now."
Chuckling as she touched her protruding stomach. "Yes well, no one ever said Liam was the smart one in the Terrors."
"He adores you."
"The way Matt adores you?" she inquired slyly.
Grinning over her cup, "Matt is… sweet."
"Hum… now that's a word that's not been attributed to him probably since the age of five," Missy guessed with a smile. She knew love when she saw it, and she could see it clearly in this young doctor's face. "Is it nice? Being with him everyday for all those hours?"
"We really don't have too many cases that cross paths," she shrugged. "And trust me, we'd probably not work if we were in the same section. Too much would get in the way."
"Professionals," Missy waved that away. "Liam and I fight all the time over issues at work, that doesn't mean anything when we leave the office."
"Yeah, but doctors don't just leave work," she pointed out with a ruthful grin. "We live and breathe medicine and the patients that we treat. It's not unusual for one or both of us to be on call 24/7."
"Then allow me to give you one very strict edict that Liam and I do not ever, and I do mean ever, break."
"What is it?"
"Never take your arguments with you to bed. Makes for a very uncomfortable bedfellow and you get absolutely no rest from it."
"A very wise…"
"Just LEAVE!" Delilah screamed as she finally snapped. "Get out! Get out!" pointing one long French manicured finger to the door. "Stay the bloody hell away from me."
"Oh, oh," Missy murmured from the corner of her mouth. "Bridezilla just hit town."
"Should we leave or should we stay?"
"I think we should leave," rubbing her tummy. "I don't want to be around her when she starts using those three inch heels on anyone that gets in her way."
Concerned, "But what if she completely freaks and doesn't show up?"
"Tough cookies," Missy made a face. "Don't exactly relish having to see her face every Christmas from now on. By the by, come for Christmas. We haven't had Matthew at a gathering some time now. It would be lovely to see both of you. And if Matthew is a smart boy, and I know for a fact that he is, he'd have a rock on your finger by then."
Jules blushed and wondered what could possibly suppress Missy's brass, "Matt and I are far from there."
"Right," rolling her eyes skywards. "Come on, let's get out of here and find our husbands."
"Not married," she reminded her.
"Yet," she shot back and stood.
"I better stay and sure this one gets to the altar since the rest of the rats have abandoned ship," glaring at the retreating backs of all six bride's maids. She hated being the responsible one. It left her holding the bag more than once and it just plain sucks.
"You know Drew; it's been scientifically shown that smoking causes impotence. You might want to rethink this vile habit of yours," Slingerland commented casually as he watched his breast friend pace the length of the dressing room.
"Stow it Matt," Andrew all but growled as he sucked more sweetened smoke into his lungs and logically told himself to stop acting like an idiot. Every line on his tense body said that he was nervous… no, that wasn't a good word for it; he was petrified.
"I say, old man," Kyle asked with amused concern. "You're not by any chance getting cold feet, are you?"
"Cold feet?" Joseph grinned and popped two M&M's into his mouth. "He looks about ready to bolt for warmer climate any second now."
"Will you two shut up?" Drew grounded out through clinched teeth, more angered by the fact that there was more than a grain of truth in their assessment. This should not be happening. He was on the verge of marrying one of the most beautiful women on the face of the earth. He should be ecstatic, yet all he felt was this rising panic as if his whole world was about to end, suffocated by satin and silk.
"Take it easy, Drew," Liam said pouring some alcohol into a glass, just enough to calm but not enough to incapacitate. "Here, have a drink and sit down before you wear a hole on the rug."
"I don't want a bloody drink," Drew muttered and continued to pace.
"At least sit down," Matt advised pulling on his arm with enough force to topple the agitated groom. "You're driving the rest of us insane with your antics."
"Oh lord," Drew took the drink from Liam and swallowed it all in one large gulp, barely registering the warm effects of the liquor down his throat. "What was I thinking? I can't get married? This is madness."
"Now, now, Drew," Matt patted his shoulders in an amused but comforting way. "We are all at an age where the next step in life is to find ourselves a nice girl and raised the next generation of privileged children of English upper-crest society who will no doubt bitterly complaint about their parents as we do."
"Lord Matt," Kyle made a face and decided that Drew looks nervous enough to warrant another glass of the liquid fire. "You're morbid."
"I don't see you boys becoming leg shacked!" Drew exploded then held up a finger at Liam who had opened his mouth to protest. "Shut up Liam, you've always been married."
Liam looked to the others for support but only got 'what do I know' kind of shrugs from them. "Well I can tell you that on the day of my wedding…"
"You were hung over if I recall correctly," Joseph chuckled.
"Whose fault was that?" Liam glared. Fingers were immediately pointed at Andrew, who forgot his own worries for a moment, grinned rather proudly. "Remind me to inform my wife," he grumbled.
"You were saying?" Matt prompted, glad that someone was offering a distraction before Andrew really did run, leaving the rest of them to tell the wedding guest and bride that there was to be no wedding.
"I was saying that on the day of my wedding, I was scared stiff… and hung over. I'm not quite sure which was worse," Liam laughed as he remembered how he literally tripped his way through the ceremony… all of which was caught on camera for prosperity. While it's funny now looking back upon it, it wasn't so funny back then when Melissa had immediately upon receiving some privacy from the rest of the wedding guests asked for an annulment from the biggest idiot in all the face of Christendom; which effectively sobered him up quite nicely. "I thought for sure I was going to faint in the middle of Father Jenning's blessings."
"How scared were you?" Drew asked thoughtfully.
Liam considered this for a long moment. "Let me put it this way, I would rather have been caught naked in the girl's locker room than go through with the ceremony."
The others laughed, as they were meant to.
Matt patted Liam on the back. "So what brought you around?"
"Honestly?" he grinned. "The thought of Melissa castrating me for standing her up at the altar did it," he made a face. "That and mentally seeing her with Drew."
"What?"
"Well, you were known for you…"
"I would never!" he replied indignantly. "Besides, I'm much too afraid of the woman of yours to think about touching her. I can't believe you and her actually made it through…"
"Hey, hey, hey, that's my wife you're talking about."
"Who broke my nose, if I recall correctly."
"I'm sure you deserved it," Liam shot back.
"Guys, a little help here?" Drew asked.
"No way," Kyle backed up quickly. "Liam has a mean left. Come to think of it, so does Missy."
"I'm not getting in the middle of this," Joseph got up and poured himself a drink. "It's suicide criticizing a man's wife."
Matt shook his head quickly. "Don't look at me. Jules and Missy have bonded. I don't intend to step on Missy toes and get myself thrown on the couch for the rest of my vacation. I've got enough problems as is."
That quickly turned the topic of conversation. "What problems?"
Mentally slapping himself for being so careless, it's been a while since he's had to contend with the company of these sharp minded boys. "Nothing."
"No, no," Joseph sat himself down next to the good doctor. "That wasn't a nothing kind of look. That was more along the lines of lord-kill-me-now kind of look." The others turned and stared at him for a moment. Joseph shrugged. "I dated a twenty-one year old recently."
That seemed to have explained a few things.
"What's happening, old chum?" Kyle asked pouring more wine than was probably healthy for everyone. "You've got a beautiful woman, a successful career, you're plump in the pocket and still have all your hair. What could possibly be the problem?"
Matt leveled a look at his friend. "I've got two words for you, old man: George Slingerland."
The rest of them groaned, including Andrew whose father rivals Matt's in meddlesome tactics. They were all more than aware of the kinds of situations a parent can cause in their lives. Kyle had his coddling mother that was forever pushing unsuitable women at her only son. Joseph has his eccentrically flamboyant father whose parade of women could only be matched by Andrew's in his heydays. Liam has his overwhelming number of loving relatives that loved to drop him upon him at the most inopportune times, much to Melissa's dismay during their university days. And Andrew and Matthew both had pairs of parents that were too upper-crest to be called anything but snobs and disapproved of everything and anything their only offspring chose to pursue and have spent great fortunes in attempting to surreptitiously guide their sons to the path of the respective parents' choosing.
"Say no more," Andrew patted him on the back and poured him some wine, suddenly feeling ten times lighter than he had only moments before. At least his father and mother approved of the perfect Delilah has their new daughter and welcomes her with open arms.
"What does your father have against Jules?" Liam asked with grave concern. If he didn't miss his guess, he was quite sure his friend was on the verge of total and absolute commit to the young doctor. And while Liam was sure Matt won't allow his parents to sway him from his chosen course, he couldn't help but feel that it would hurt his friend so to not have his life mate approved by those that gave him life.
"Besides her not being British that is," Kyle added with a sympathetic smile.
Shrugging his shoulders, "I couldn't say."
"Did you ask?" Joseph inquired.
"No, I didn't bother this time," shaking his head and glancing at his watch. It was almost time which means he could very well put this line of question to rest. "I believe it's time to begin this show, Drew. Shall we?"
Taking a deep breath, Andrew turned to his friends. "You do think that I'm doing the right thing, yes?" an uncharacteristic uncertainty gracing his classically handsome face.
"That's not for us to decide, my friend," Liam said straightening the groom's jacket with a practiced hand.
As the others began to make for the door, Matt suddenly asked the one question he's never even heard the answer alluded to, "Do you love her?"
Startled at such a question, "What?"
"Do you love her?" he repeated quite seriously.
Andrew paused to consider it. No one has really asked him that, they just naturally assumed that because he was getting married, love was the logical component in the equation. "I think so."
Kyle and Joseph, already halfway out the door, quickly step back and shut it. Liam sat down abruptly.
"You think so?" Matt asked aghast. "You're less than an hour from sealing your doom and think you love the girl?"
"You think so?" Jules could feel her jaw hit the ground. She had stayed behind, praying that Delilah won't bolt when the bridegroom has struck up a conversation with her, hitting on light topics until Jules realized that the bride was trying to distract herself. And when the distraction had become too internal, making her miserable, Jules had asked the all important question.
"It has not been an issue," Delilah said defensively as she paced the length of the dressing room and kicked lightly at the train of her dress. She really should be mistreating the fine materials but at the moment, she didn't particularly care. "I simply knew that Andrew was the kind of guy I was always meant to marry."
Reframing from voicing her exasperation and a lecture on preconceptions, "I'm not asking whether or not Andrew is a good guy and would make a good husband; I'm asking whether or not you love him. After all, we're talking about marriage. Til-death-do-us part kind of thing; not exactly a vow one should be taking lightly."
Delilah ignore the butterflies in her stomach, knowing that she was irritated at the unflappable young doctor because every word that came out of that educated mouth held some truth in them. "Andrew and I have similar backgrounds, with similar goals and ideas about life. We compliment each other perfectly… and we look like we were meant to be together."
"A perfect picture doesn't equate to happiness," Jules murmured, wondering if she was getting through at all. "Does he make you laugh? Does he know your favorite color? Does you heart jump extra beats or miss a couple when he looks at you with eyes that tells you that he loves you? Does he hold your hand? Does he make you breakfast? Does he scowl you when you're bad? Kiss you when you're good? Tell you that he wants a future with you whether you like it or not?" Delilah stared at her. "Does he do any of that?"
"No," shaking her head slowly, her veil clutched in a fist.
Taking a breath, she fought the sudden urge to run to the groom's dressing room and telling Matt that she made a mistake on no voicing her thoughts. "Delilah, do you love him?" she wasn't letting this one go.
There was a terrible moment as Delilah Levean stood there and stared at the wall and turned the words over in her head. "He likes his coffee black, two sugars. He likes to wear cotton rather than silk. He wears size forty-eight shoes and thirty-two pants. He likes the winter because it's cold and because it makes him appreciate spring more. He likes business law but despises the fact hat his father wants him to do into it. He puts jam on his potatoes, a vile habit developed to annoy his nannies. He likes the opera but only goes to them when he was sure his parents won't be there. He likes kippers for breakfast and steaks for dinner. He hates carrots, cooked ones especially. And he can't drive worth a farling," she studied the diamond on her left hand. "Is that love?"
"Is it?" was the only answer Jules could give.
"Matthew."
It was inevitable that he would have to meet up with him, "Father."
"Lovely ceremony," George commented as he sipped the champagne carefully.
"Yes," and thanked the lord that it had come off without a hitch. Pride more than anything convinced Drew that he needed to go through with the ceremony. After all, there were nearly four hundred guests waiting for the event to take place, he could hardly disappoint them.
"I heard Andrew had some second thoughts on making the big jump," having heard it from more than one source now.
"Isn't every man supposed to be a little nervous on his wedding day?"
George's brow rose a bit. "I wasn't."
"You're not normal."
"Why do I have the impression that you meant that as a compliment?"
Tongue in cheek, "I'm pretty sure I'd be committing some horrible infraction of a child's duty to his parent if I meant it as anything else."
That certainly got George's attention. "And where did you hear that?"
"Jules and I have a rather long and involved discussion on children and the raising of them," he informed his father with a smile. Liam and Missy had also been a part of the discussion. They had all agreed that Delilah and Andrew should not have any children.
"That poor kid would need therapy for the rest of his bloody life being raised by those two," Missy proclaimed in a loud whisper as the priest drone on and on about the sacred unions and comments for life.
"Now that's that true," Jules had argued.
"You're right," Liam said with a nod and gave his wife an impish grin. "It would only be for half his life; it'll take the poor child the first half to become completely screwy." Missy chuckled softly.
Jules groaned and shook her head helplessly.
"Now, now," Matt murmured, wishing they weren't so close to the bride and groom, standing there by themselves and trying to pay attention to the words of the dull priest that spoke in a monotone. "I'm sure that won't be the case."
"You think they aren't going to have any children because they're both a little too self-center to take time away from themselves to devote to raising of little ones," Liam guess with a wink. "Am I right?"
"No," Matt said sternly but his eyes twinkled with laugher. "I meant more than likely if they were to have an offspring or two, Andrew would follow the starling rules of thumb in child rearing that his prestigious ancestors have for centuries and hire nannies and governesses until the brats are of an age to be sent off to boarding school as we had been."
"And look how you turned out," Jules snickered.
"I had some of the finest tutors in all of England at a very young age," he informed her in his most haughty tone than ruined it by grinned broadly and kissing her cheek affectionately. "But I'm sure that's not how you want to raise our children."
Neither Liam and Melissa felt it appropriate to comment on that.
"Of course," she scoffed and smiled when Delilah heaved a sigh of relief as the priest finally got off the duties of a wife to her husband. "My kids are going to be raised the old fashion way, the way my parents raised me and my sister."
"And how was that?" Missy asked.
"With respect for their elders, love for their sibling and do the greatest good for the greatest number of people," she concluded with a smile. "And to appreciate midnight ice cream cravings as a norm."
"Wouldn't mind giving one of these," George commented carefully, shaking Matt from his reveries.
"One of what?"
"One of these," making an all-encompassing gesture to include the wedding party at large. "I don't think I've ever seen David Rademacher this happy before."
"He's looking forward to the prospects of another generation of Rademachers," Matt pointed out with a grin.
"Won't be such a bad thing," George said watching his animated wife across the room with a group of her friends, no doubt commenting upon the overly long and dull wedding ceremony.
Glancing at his father, wondering how many glasses of Dom Pérignon did he have, "This coming from the man that wanted me to sign my rights away to any child bore by Dr. Keating?"
"So much for the olive branch," George thought to himself. "Matthew, I'm not attempting to be difficult. I merely wanted to tell you that I'm happy that you are… that you appear to be very much satisfied with life."
That confused him. "What?"
"I'm happy to see you, son. Is it really that difficult to believe?"
"Actually…"
"Be quiet," he said as he spotted Dr. Keating just beyond Matthew's shoulders. "Good afternoon, Doctor."
"Hello," Jules responded cautiously, watching Matt's face for a moment before turning to the elder Slingerland. "Lovely wedding, isn't it?"
"Very well organized," George replied diplomatically and with a smile. "How are you enjoying England, Dr. Keating?"
"Fine, fine," feeling Matt's hand against her back. "Been a little tired from the jetlag but that's normal."
"You should come to London; see some of the more prestigious sites of England. Matthew I'm sure can show you some of the landmarks not pointed out in the tour guides. We have a townhouse near Hyde Park you and Matthew will no doubt find comfortable."
Surprised by the invitation, it took another moment for Jules to understand the significance of it. Feeling suddenly like a boarder had been lifted from her shoulders, she stepped forward and hugged Mr. Slingerland gently around the shoulder and gifted him with a smile that she gave her young charge, full of love and appreciation for the beautiful human beings that they are. "Thank you. I look forward to it."
It was that one crystallized moment that George Slingerland understood why his son had found this woman to be so irresistible. "As do I."
Anita rounded the corner and nearly collided with Dr. Lenning as she came bounding out of the elevator. "Dr. Lenning!"
"Anita," Harriet greeted as she spotted Dr. Kokoris down the hall making his way toward her. "Nick! You're late."
"I know, I know," breaking into a job and offering the matronly doctor an apologetic smile that shouldn't have charmed a happily married woman of thirty-six years but did anyways. "I stopped to check on a patient and ended up chatting with them for am bit and lost track of time."
"Hum…" can't really blame him for caring about his patients.
"Dr. Lenning," Anita waved the slip of paper she had been carrying in front of the OB's face. "The phone number?"
"Oh yes," taking it from the receptionist and glancing at it with a sigh. She really hated her job at times and this was one of them.
"Something the matter?" Nick asked quietly as he came to a stop beside his next consult doctor.
"Nothing I don't want to pass off to another doctor," Harriet muttered before slipping the slip of paper into her coat pocket. "Shall we?"
"International?"
"What?"
"That was an international number you were looking at," he clarified. "Too many numbers; couldn't help but notice."
"Are you always this nosy?" she asked mildly but didn't answer his question.
"Always but most people tend not to notice."
"With that smile, they won't."
Nick grinned once more. "I don't suppose you know when Dr. Slingerland and Dr. Keating will be returning, do you?"
"No, not at the moment," Harriet pushed the button for the elevator. Her knees were too old to be jostled around climbing stairs. "But I don't expect them to be too long away."
"Good," Kokoris said cheerfully as he pulled out a tootsie roll from his pocket. "Remind me to restock Dr. Keating's sweets jar before she returns."
To be continued….
I know, I know, I shoehorn in Kokoris at the end. But with that face and accent, who can blame me?