<div class="floatleft">(http://s3.weddbook.com/t4/2/4/2/2422646/romantic-boho-wedding-veil-lace-and-soft-english-net-mantilla-wedding-veil-nottingham-lace-veil-spanish-style-veil-nottingham.jpg)</div>And every worthy story ever told (but, of course, those shared first by the Brothers Grimm) ended with a perfect, shining 'Happily Ever After.'  Even in the Bible, for all the tragedy and bloodshed and sin littered throughout its hallowed pages, there was a reconciliation at the very last, God come to redeem His children for all time, to bring them home to His eternal city, to live forever in the warmth of His everlasting love.<br/><br/>Happily.  Ever.  After.  That was<em>exactly</em>what Nicole Thibault believed was hers - or at least as close as she might ever come in this fallen world.  And at the root of all her vast, nigh endless faith, grounded in fertile soil, the unshakable belief were<em>no accidents.</em>Every step she ever took was fated, every last move inspired by Someone far greater than she.  It was a faith nurtured in the lovingkindness of her doting parents, transforming to a devotion that informed her desire to become a nurse.  No mere happenstance fueled her desire to serve her fellow man; after all, this was what she was born to do!<br/><br/>And her husband Bobby?  There'd been no kind of accident there either.  Her beautiful, precious man - now there was a gift from God right there.  The only thing that might have made their happiness fuller was a baby - but they were both young, and there was time yet.  All in good time.  All in God's time -<br/><br/><em>"Oh!"</em>Nicole yelped as she leapt backward, something warm and wet and dark spreading across the belly of her scrubs.  That big quilted Vera Bradley nurse's bag slung over her shoulder, her head still somewhere on the Virgin Islands honeymoon she and Bobby shared and her eyes all unseeing (no matter they peered down unwavering at her aching feet).  The Emergency Room lights still bright behind her, it drown out the stars overhead, but made the walk to the employee parking garage well-lit and far safer.  It was a walk she'd made hundreds of times before tonight, but perhaps it'd become just a little too rote, her tired mind just a little too fuzzy to keep her from an ill-fated collision with -<br/><br/><em>'Oh my... '</em>Well<em>this</em>was a sight one didn't see everyday in the ER.  Calm, cool and collected, well-dressed, equally well-put-together, the gracious manner and that positively killer smile.  For the space of a heartbeat, her breath caught in her lungs, her knees suddenly weak enough to buckle beneath her, Nicole was trapped between the equally impossible impressions she'd suddenly stumbled into the presence of a holy angel, or that she had become a trembling, wide-eyed doe, brought to bay by some dark predator...<br/><br/>But then he spoke, and the impression was burnt away as easily as morning fog in the sun's first light.  Just a man it seemed.  A man named Niccolo Rossi - and no angel in heaven nor any demon from hell bore that name, now did they?  Nicole chuckled warmly, shaking her head as the scent of coffee filled the humid New Orleans night air - just coffee, somehow blessedly not scalding at that.<br/><br/>She took a step back, looking down at the spreading dark about her belly before peering back up to Niccolo.  "You're not from around here, are you?"  The words were out before she could stop them.  That quintessential Southern truism, asked of everyone whose voice and accent betrayed they weren't 'from around these parts.'  Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana - no Yankee, no European nor Australian nor far-away English-speaker could escape that kindhearted, curious and innocuous observation.  Often enough, this became the opener to some small talk, a pleasant enough way to pass the time, but Nicole<em>had</em>just taken a soaking in warm coffee, hadn't she?<br/><br/>"My pleasure Niccolo - and no, no... No need to pay for new scrubs.  They're navy blue after all.  I promise you, coffee is the<em>least</em>concerning fluid spilled, splattered or oozed on me any given day.  No harm, no foul."  Her words were artless, good-natured and sweetly spiced with the richest of New Orleans drawls.  She took the handkerchief he offered delicately in her fingers, instantly feeling the quality of the cloth by touch alone, noting even in the wan yellow light of the ER lights, the exquisitely embroidered initials.  Nicole would no sooner have mopped up coffee with such a lovely thing than she'd have wiped her running nose with an altar cloth.  It simply wasn't... It wouldn't have been<em>right.</em>Still, she did lift the handkerchief to her face, patting her cheeks gently - how could she refuse such a chivalrous offer entirely after all?<br/><br/>But then her words returned to her, the ones she'd just spoken all flustered and off-guard.<em>'Spilled, spattered or oozed?'</em>The poor man was walking in front of an<em>Emergency Room</em>for the love of heaven!  No one ever just 'hung out' in front of an ER, well-dressed and smiling or not, and she'd been about as sensitive and thoughtful as a full-on slap to the face!  Her pretty cheeks flushed a brilliant pink with embarrassment - how grateful she was, that merely human eyes would likely never note such a thing!  "I'm Nicole, and I'm<em>so</em>sorry."  Almost reluctantly, her fingers offered Niccolo his own handkerchief back, even as she fought the inexplicable urge to lift it to her face one more time, just to see if she might yet place the intriguing, unique scent that lingered about him, a perfume strangely reminiscent of... Of<em>frankincense</em>of all things, overlying a familiar metallic, almost coppery tang...<br/><br/>Nicole blinked, a quick, disgusted little sigh through her nose when she realized what a complete fool she was acting.  Such foolishness, right here in front of her workplace and before a complete stranger too - someone she'd likely just mortally offended with her insensitivity to whatever emergency brought him here tonight.  "You must be going to see someone inside, and I'm keeping you here, worrying about such a little thing as some spilt coffee."<br/><br/>