The Right Fit

Chapter 55

Antony thought she looked ready to go sailing.

“Kayla,” Dr. Kensington smiled. “I was just telling Antony about you.”

“Hiya!” She reached out and shook Antony’s hand. “I’m super excited to be working with you. Has Dr. Kensington told you about the sled hockey? It’s awesome. I’ve been playing for six years! I started back in high school as part of a volunteer program, but then I was totally creaming everyone so I kept at it. People think it’s easy, but you use muscles you never thought you had.”

Antony was reminded of a butterfly. He was sure he missed half the words; she spoke so quickly.

She took a breath and noticed Marc. “Whoa, dude.” She crouched in front of his wheelchair. “When did you get this detailed last? Are you sure this is the right arm height? Do you get a pinch in your shoulders at night? Because those armrests are completely putting off your spine alinement.”

Marc stared back at the blonde moving about his chair, her ponytail swishing as she bent over, contorting herself around him. There was a snap on one side as the armrest lowered. She straightened up and put her hands on her hips. “Try that,” she asked him.

“Feels better…I guess,” Marc said, unsure.

In a flash, Kayla had adjusted the other armrest. She was crouched by his side and then she looked up at

him. Antony noticed they stared at each other for a moment. “While I’m doing home visits for your brother, I could see if you need anything else adjusted,” she offered. “Like the shower or the kitchen or your bedroom.” She paused and smiled. “You cook, right? Because if you’re going to play on my sled hockey team you have to bring food once in a while for after the game.”

“Oui,” Marc answered, sounding a little dazed. “Okay.”

“Awesome,” she said more softly this time.

Another staring contest started. Antony cleared his throat.

After a few more discharge instructions and another prompt by Dr. Kensington about his sled hockey team, he and Kayla left.

Antony slipped her number in his duffle bag and then motioned to the door, but Marc stayed in place. “I can’t let you leave room without saying something.” He swallowed. “When I watched you get hit on ice, I felt like I was in car again, but instead of lying upside down on roof, I was strapped into seat. I never saw accident from your view. I never gave you a choice.”

Antony’s words came out rushed and painful, like someone walking on hot coals, “I could have said no. I let you lie.”

“Je suis désolé, et merci…for saving me. That day and every day since. I didn’t mean life to get bad between us.”

Antony nodded and they began to make their way to the elevator. A period of silence went by marking the definitive moment for the brothers. Marc was the first to break the silence. “Sled hockey, huh?”

“Marc Laurent scores,” Antony teased in an announcer’s voice. He hit the button to call the elevator.

His older brother stayed quiet, but Antony could see he was fighting a grin.

Marc said, “She’s cute, oui?” A bell sounded and the elevator doors opened to an empty car.

“Kayla?” Antony said. “Oui, mais je t’aime

redheads.”

And there it was again—that instant when Maxine popped up just when he’d forgotten about her. How long would this go on? But part of him didn’t want it to stop, he knew he’d be happier being miserable missing her than forgetting about her altogether. He’d check his gear bag as soon as he got home. She might have left a message.

“Wait.” Marc put an arm on his hand. The elevator closed and left without them. “I need to give you this.” He handed Marc an envelope he’d pulled from his back pocket. It had been folded over in half. “Arrived yesterday. I don’t want to take away any more choices for you.”

Antony saw the envelope’s return address. “It’s from Maxine?”

“It’s pretty thick, n’est pas? Good sign. Not many girls write long goodbye letter to guy they don’t want to see again.”

Antony held the envelope in his shaking hands, scared to open it.

“Go for it. Elle a de beaux seins.”

“Beaux seins? How do you know she has nice breasts?”

Marc’s cheeks lightened. “Um…ask her.”

****

Maxine snapped the compact closed and slipped it into her makeup travel bag. Her cosmetic stash felt much lighter. She was certain she’d put a few pounds of makeup on every one of Crosby’s coworkers helping out with the bachelor auction tonight. Even Rose, who was covering the event for the Globe and Mail, had conceded and let her put on a little concealer and lipstick.

Gathering her supplies, Maxine stowed everything in the corner of the makeshift hair and makeup section. A near empty rack of rental tuxedos stood at one end of the room beside a privacy screen, complete with a full- length mirror.

The Concert Meeting Hall of the Fairmont Royal York had been taken over with almost a thousand women, check books in hand, ready to bid on Toronto’s most eligible bachelors—all in the name of raising money for the Sick Children’s Hospital.

Maxine changed out of her work smock and into the red dress from Carmine’s. She pulled up the side zipper, marveling at how easily it made it to the clasp without letting out all her breath or swearing or pulling so hard she broke a nail. And miraculously enough, her boobs didn’t seem to be falling out or smooshed so close they spread under her arms.

This is what the right fit feels like, she thought unexpectedly joyful.

She stepped into her heels and while the cheers and whistles of the increasingly excited women down the hall echoed through the walls, Maxine carefully made her way in front of the mirror. She’d never tried the strapless dress on until tonight. For some reason she couldn’t bear it if she looked horrible, but this dress that Carmine had picked out for her was too special to leave in the closet.

Maxine stared back at the sexy woman in the mirror. The side slit showed off her leg when she walked. The dress wasn’t only the right fit, the dress looked like it was made for her. How did Ambrosia put it? The right fit feels like you’re wearing nothing.

The right fit is freedom.

She turned on an angle, taking in the back view. Maxine looked over her shoulder at the mirror and her heart cheered. “Thank you, Carmine,” she whispered. Then she let down her hair, styling her waves with her fingers and slipped in the silk orchid—it seemed appropriate to wear with the dress.

As she left the room and made her way to the Concert Meeting Hall, she tried to rally her spirits against the tangible pull of loneliness she’d been feeling since the realtor called yesterday. Someone had put in an offer to buy Carmine’s store at the asking price. For Maxine, the moment was tinged with a sufferable melancholy. She had no idea what the new buyer had in mind, but she’d be foolish not to take the offer. She wanted to go over this morning, to say one last good- bye, but the realtor had already handed over the keys to the new owner. Maxine felt like she was losing Carmine all over again.

The music was thumping, which meant a bachelor was exiting the stage, making his way to his ‘owner’ for the evening. During this pause in the festivities, it was up to the master of ceremonies to entertain the crowd.

Maxine kept to the backstage area where the remaining bachelors were milling about, waiting for their turn. The mystery bachelor, the weatherman from channel five, was well hid, which according to Crosby, meant he was camped out in the posh bathroom, drinking and playing poker star on his phone.

Stuart was standing next to the edge of the curtain, wearing a headpiece that came with a microphone and holding a clipboard. Maxine tapped him on the shoulder.

He looked her up and down and put a hand over his chest. “Sweet Jesus,” he spoke so loud most of the bachelor’s looked their way. “You’re like Jessica Rabbit come to life. Did you paint that dress on?”

“Nope.” She swished her hips from side to side, letting the long slit flow open and closed, revealing her legs. “It’s the right fit.” She peeked around his shoulder. “How’s Crosby doing?” Maxine watched with pride as her carefree baby sister took control when the local comedian she’d booked ended up being a no- show.

“Not bad for someone who has zero experience on stage.”

Crosby made a joke about birth control and the laughter rang through the room.

“Plus, she looks amazing in that black dress,” he added. “Shows off her tattoos nicely. She said you gave it to her.”

“It’s Ralph Lauren,” Maxine smiled. “It was too big when she tried it on, but the seamstress was able to take it in enough to be the right fit. It’s perfect on her.”

Stuart turned, checking out the feast of well- dressed bachelors around them.

Maxine leaned over his shoulder, taking a look at the list of names. “You smell nice,” she said. “What do you have on?”

“A hard on, but I didn’t think you could smell it.”

She rolled her eyes, wondering if Westley might be better off falling in love with someone else.

Then Stuart turned to her, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Do you know what’s going on with Wes lately? He seems a bit off or something. It’s not the money thing is it? I told him not to worry about rent, he’ll find another job soon.”

“Maybe you should ask him.” Maxine stared hard at Stuart, hoping to pass the message telepathically.

Stuart winked at the next bachelor and then put his attention back on Maxine. “He was at your place most of this week. I finally had to say, ‘Dude, get home and help me drink downtown tonight.’” Then he added, “Downtown is no fun unless Westley is there. His dance moves make me forget every sad thing.”

For the last few days, it was Westley who had been helping Maxine find information about Antony. Through the sports channel and Twitter, Westley deduced Antony would make a full recovery. The radio talk shows in Toronto were buzzing madly about the illegal hit. Bachlahov had been given a four-game suspension. Maxine was certain if she ever saw the Russian on the street she’d try and kill him.

When she finally watched the hit, it had twisted her stomach violently. She could only watch it once—it was nothing close to the hit in Philadelphia. She’d called Antony, but had to leave a message on his voice mail each time. And she kept calling until his inbox was full.

Even last night she considered buying a plane ticket, but her sisters put an end to that plan.