The Right Fit

by Daphne Dubois

  His helper, obviously committed to her role as cupid, rushed to the women while he lagged behind, ready to dodge out of sight if necessary. The smaller one turned and her immediate expression told him she wasn’t recognizing him as a fan. One of the thin twins, he reasoned. She took the piece of paper from the ticket seller, read the few lines, and then immediately whisked Maxine out of sight.

  Antony was frozen to the spot. Was the sister making her leave before she saw him? Did they hate him that much?

  The roses started to shake. He swallowed then made his way to the backstage. He didn’t come all this way to lose her now.

  Around the corner another twin emerged with the first, identical except for the glamorous black dress and stylish hair and make-up. He noticed the delicate tattoos. This one ran to Antony and kissed him on both cheeks. “You must be Antony!” Then she turned to her sister. “Quick, we have to get into the room to take pictures! I can’t wait to see her face!”

  The other twin gave him a solemn glance. “Break her heart and we’ll break your face.” She got up close. “I know people.”

  “Shut up, Rose,” the other twin said. “You’re watching too much Law & Order.” Then they all heard Maxine’s voice over the speakers.

  “And now for the real finale.” Her voice echoed from the Concert Hall Room.

  Antony rushed into place and watched from behind the curtain. He thought he would have been able to have a life without her and maybe that’s true—anything is possible—but as he watched her behind the podium, nervously licking her lips and letting out a self-conscious laugh, he was struck by the burden of having kissed her in the first place.

  The memory of her would always be the margin to compare future lovers. That was the consequence he hadn’t anticipated when he’d picked up that soggy paperback in the park.

  Antony’s feet started moving him forward, his life awaited him and he’d come to get it.

  The cheers from the crowd became muffled as Maxine turned and finally saw him. He hoped the twins were taking a picture because the expression on her face was one he wanted to keep in his wallet forever.

  Once he was close enough to count the hurried rise and fall of her chest, he took her hand in his and went down on one knee. Maxine stared at him from above, unable to respond. Screams and whistles replaced the cheers, as the crowd’s encouragement grew louder.

  Antony reached into the pocket of his tuxedo. “Maxine Nicholls,” he started. “Would you do me honor of going for drive?” Then he slipped a key ring on her finger.

  She whispered, “This is a key.”

  “Oui.”

  “To your car?” She sounded like she was half-asleep.

  “Non.” He stood up and then closed her hands around the key. “I have surprise. Venez avec moi, oui?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Go with him!” someone shouted from the crowd.

  “Take me, I’ll go!” An anonymous voice screamed out. Then a chorus of women began to chant, “Go, go, go!”

  “Oui.” She nodded. “Yes…let’s go.”

  The entire ride in the back seat of the cab to their destination was spent staring at each other, speechless for the first five minutes. It was dark out now and the CN Tower was lit up as they drove past. He put his tuxedo jacket over her bare shoulders.

  “I can’t believe you’re really here,” she said.

  “I got your letter day I came out of hospital.”

  It was as if the dam had broken and a stream of questions from Maxine filled the air. “Are you going to play hockey again? How are you feeling? Does anything still hurt? Do you like Florida? Does Marc know you’re here?”

  “Everything is okay…really.” He smiled and leaned close enough to touch her lips to his, but this wasn’t the perfect time, he had to wait. He knew that first kiss would light the fuse and let him feel everything he’d been pushing down since they broke up.

  They rocked to a stop as the cab pulled up to their destination. Maxine was only looking at Antony. “Why are you here?” she asked.

  He raised his eyebrows. “This is the address I gave the driver.” He paid the fare, stepped out and offered his hand as she followed him to the sidewalk.

  She looked up and frowned at the sign. “Why are we at Carmine’s?”

  “Because you have the key.”

  “No.” Her voice dropped. “I had to sell it. There’s a new owner now.”

  “Oui, I know.” He pointed to the key in her hand.

  For the second time that night, Antony wished he could catalogue her expression to keep perfect in his memory.

  “You?” She breathed. “You bought Carmine’s store?”

  He nodded and when she didn’t move, he gently took the key from her hand, escorted her to the door, and unlocked it with the realtor’s key. “After you, mademoiselle.”

  They entered the store. He closed the door behind them and paused, watching her step tentatively, moving around the racks, letting her fingers graze the dresses. He turned on the lights, letting the chandelier glow.

  “I meant to tell you,” he said as he started walking toward her, “that dress…” his sentence trailed off and he smiled.

  “It’s the right fit,” she said, walking a little more vivaciously around the clothing. She slipped out of his jacket, draping it over the glass counter and finally turned to face him.

  Antony stopped and put his hands in his pockets. The silence became charged with a sensual persuasion.

  “You bought me the store, that’s very gallant of you.” She leaned against the counter, arching her back, straining the bodice.

  It was all Antony could do to keep his mind on the next sentence instead of rushing to take her in his arms. “Non,” he said. “The store is for Westley. I’m partly responsible for him losing job. Least I could do.” He shrugged and took a step closer to her. “Plus, he has apartment upstairs now. He can rent out or move in…whatever he wants.”

  Maxine straightened slightly. “You came back to give Westley the store?”

  He counted three heartbeats. Antony could feel the rush of the blood through his veins. He reached out and put his hands on her waist. “Non,” he said. “I came back for you.”

  Her fingertips traced the side of his jaw, her touch felt like fire across his skin.

  “Je suis à vous,” she said.

  I am yours.

  “As soon as I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop.” His arms were already wrapping around her, pulling her closer.

  “I’m willing to risk it.” She sighed, fitting her lips to his.

  Antony breathed her in, tasting everything she could give him. He wanted to climb inside her skin, feel everything completely and all at once. Her breasts pressed against him, wonderfully firm and full. He was weak with desire. Taking her face in his hands, he gave her one more kiss, then led her over to the antique settee, pulling her onto his lap.

  With the moonlight streaming through the window, Antony paused the moment, needing to catch his breath. She looked like a painting in this light. “I want you to come back with me to Florida,” he said. “I need you in my life. Until I met you, I didn’t think I deserved to be happy.”

  Maxine grew pensive. “And I didn’t think I was beautiful enough to be loved.”

  Antony made a sound like a desperate whimper. He kissed her forehead. “Marry me. I can’t be anything if I’m not with you.”

  A stillness overtook her for a moment then she nodded. “Oui.”

  The kiss started again as passionate as the first. His hand moved up the slit in her dress, feeling the skin all the way up her thigh.

  Maxine straddled him, her hair framing her face as she looked down at him. “Am I dreaming? I know I must be dreaming, but I don’t want to wake up.” She kissed him again and repeated softly. “I must be dreaming.” Her breasts were directly in front of his face.

  “Then I must be in heaven,” he said.

  She moved his hand to the side zipper.
r />   “Wait,” he said. “Keep the dress on. Just this once, oui?”

  Maxine answered him with an eager kiss and then began to undo his belt. Antony slipped his hand under her dress and maneuvered her lacy panties to the side. “Take these off,” he whispered.

  Then he felt her hands on either side of his face. She stared him in the eye. “Before we go any further,” she said. “Is there any special consideration activity wise because of your concussion? Do I have to be extra gentle?”

  “Mon Dieu,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”

  Her eyes glowed in the moonlight. “The first time I take you will be fast and hard.” She adopted a French accent for the last part. “Then I spend rest of night making love to you nice and slow, tasting every inch of you, the way you deserve.” She gave him an impish grin. “Oui?”

  “Oui,” He grinned. “Very much.”

  Epilogue

  Maxine knew before she turned to the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door that the ensemble was the right fit. The ivory silk dress jacket and matching skirt with the vintage detailing on the edge and pearl buttons was a wedding gift from Ambrosia—something from his Lana Turner days.

  “My darling.” Her mother sighed. “I’ve never seen you look lovelier.” She was wearing a light blue dress and lace bolero jacket. She stood behind Maxine and secured a choker of pearls around her neck. “There”—she kissed one of Maxine’s pin curls—“your father gave me these on our wedding day. You were always meant to have them.”

  “Mom,” Maxine teased, grabbing another tissue. “You keep saying things that make me cry. You’re ruining my makeup.”

  Her mother chuckled and then had Maxine crouch so she could secure the headpiece, a real orchid, in place just behind her right ear. Maxine had considered an up-do, but when the dress suit arrived from Ambrosia she decided to mimic the long waves of Rita Hayworth, keeping with the vintage theme.

  “Are you ready?” her mother asked.

  “Almost.” Maxine’s heart was counting the seconds. “Tell Westley I’ll be right out.”

  With one last kiss from her mother, Maxine watched her slip out of the bedroom. She took a sure deep breath, and walked over to the full-length mirror. Looking back at her was the same girl who all through high school never once put on a bathing suit, and the same woman who only a few months ago, would never leave her apartment without her spandex girdle.

  She smiled at her reflection, truly happy with who she saw. Maxine was the same size, but she carried herself differently now. A straight posture and the unending love of a good man can do wonders, she thought. She glanced at Antony’s king-size bed, or rather their king-size bed.

  Since coming down to Florida two months ago, her life had slipped into a comfortable routine with Antony. Sometimes, he set the alarm to go off half an hour before he had to get up. He’d reach his long arm across Maxine and hit the snooze bar, then she’d feel his warm breath on the back of her neck, his hand moving down her side, curving around her hip, then finally finding the spot between her legs, making her writhe under the covers.

  He’d bury his face into the back of her hair and make love to her from behind, both of them too lazy to get out of bed to brush their teeth. It was the most effortless orgasm she’d ever had. Maxine also discovered having sex without worrying about morning-breath was the perfect way to wake up.

  Although, she’d been waking up by herself these last few days since Antony was staying at Marc’s apartment one block over. It was Antony’s idea they live apart a week before the wedding, but she complained so they compromised on three nights. He still called to tuck her in over the phone, which always resulted in Maxine kicking off her pajama bottoms.

  There was a soft knock on the door. “Max?” Westley said.

  “All set.” She picked up her bouquet of white orchids from the dresser and joined Westley in the hallway.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, offering his arm.

  “Thanks, so do you.”

  Westley was doing well with the shop. He’d made enough profit to give the old store a make-over without losing its vintage appeal. They also gave it a new name, The Right Fit. She knew Carmine would be proud. Westley moved into the apartment above and Stuart had basically followed him there. When she asked how things were going, he’d told her they were a work in progress, but he’d never been happier.

  As she and Westley made their way through the living room, her gaze lit on the framed photograph in the middle of the mantel. Antony and Marc were in full hockey gear, sweaty and red faced, staring at the camera and smiling in their hockey sleds, holding on to each other’s shoulders.

  Maxine made sure to make most games and tried her best to follow all the rules. When Marc and Kayla visited, they tried to teach her about hockey and even threatened to get her on the ice someday.

  “Antony needs a break from me sometimes,” she always replied.

  On the coffee table was a file she’d been getting ready for investors. Antony insisted she seriously look into opening Beauty Full in Tampa, especially makeup with sunscreen, she’d reasoned.

  She and Westley came to the double patio doors. The sun had set and the darkening sky was awash with purple and orange. The floating candles that Crosby and Rose had lit earlier and placed in the pool looked like fallen stars. Maxine pulled back on Westley’s elbow, wanting to take in the whole scene before everyone turned to watch them.

  It was an intimate gathering with the guests sitting in groups rather than two parts split between the bride and groom. Crosby and Rose were gorgeous in the billowing sundresses and fresh flowers in their hair.

  Luca and his family had come, and so had Sasha. Maxine’s mother and Aunt Margo were sitting with Antony’s parents who flew down two weeks ago. When they first watched Antony and Marc play sledge hockey, they couldn’t stop crying.

  Mrs. Laurent had been making food for the wedding non-stop. Maxine was just as excited to eat all the delicious morsels as she was to get married. This family loved to eat. She was deliriously happy to find they were a perfect fit for her as well.

  A string quartet were playing a soft melody at the far end of the pool deck. One of the musicians was a spouse of a Tampa Bay player.

  When Antony returned to practices, they continued to call him Frenchie. He told them his real nickname was Ace, and that someday his wife would tell them the story.

  The glass door slid open and Westley gave her a small nudge. “Ready to get married?”

  She smiled at him and squeezed his arm. “You’re a wonderful brother, Westley. Thank you for taking Dad’s place today.”

  With the music changing on cue to the bridal march, everyone turned to Maxine and Westley as they walked toward the archway where Antony stood. Marc, his best man, was at his side. Stu raised his martini in their honor all the while filming their procession.

  The closer Maxine got to Antony, the more sure she became.

  But it wasn’t only their love for each other—she and Antony had to realize they deserved to be happy before they could completely trust enough to fall in love again. Carmine was the wisest man she knew. People aren’t living the life they were destined if their choices are based on emotions other than love.

  Westley led Maxine to Antony and stepped back when she took Antony’s hand. The music stopped and the minister, the goalie on their sledge hockey team, began the ceremony.

  Antony was her right fit, her freedom. Her heart felt like it was soaring high above, watching all this from the treetops.

  “Do you take this man,” the minister finally said, “to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

  “Oui,” Maxine answered. “Very much.”

  After Antony replied similarly the minister announced, “You many now kiss the bride.”

  Maxine went up on her tiptoes. “I may not be able to stop kissing you,” she whispered.

  “I’m willing to risk it,” Antony smiled.

  “Pour toujours?”

>   “Oui, forever.” Then he leaned down and kissed her.

  A word about the author…

  Daphne Dubois writes steamy contemporary romance and loves putting her characters in awkward situations. She believes the right book at the right time can make all the difference.

  www.daphnedubois.blogspot.ca

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