This story picks up immediately after the kiss at the end of "Death and Love II."
I do not own Who's The Boss?. I might know more trivia about it than what can be considered normal, but I have absolutely no rights to anything beyond my enjoyment of the show and its characters.
When the kiss ended, Tony and Angela pulled apart only far enough to look at each other. The enormity of what just happened began to sink in. Neither could suppress the smiles that began slowly and spread until they were both giddy with excitement and laughing as Tony grabbed Angela around her waist and spun her in circles until they collapsed on the couch.
"Wow," Angela managed as she released an exhilarated breath.
"No kidding, wow."
A beat passed, and then, "Tony, did we just get engaged?"
"I think so."
Angela leaned over him, her lips a breath away from his, "Good, because I'd be very upset if I just dreamed all of that."
"Me too," he managed to get out before she pressed her mouth to his again.
This time, when they came up for air, Tony asked, "So, how do you want to celebrate?"
"Um, I don't know. I really didn't plan for this tonight." When she walked through the door from work, Angela hadn't counted on being double-teamed by Mona and Sam asking her why she had turned down Tony's proposal. She certainly hadn't planned on the brutally honest conversation that led her to accept the role she played in the heartbreaking situation.
"Neither did I, but come on Angela, we have to do something. And unless I'm mistaken, we do have the house to ourselves."
"We do, don't we?" she confirmed.
"Yep, Mona's in Atlantic City going to some new thing called 'speed dating.' Don't ask, I have no idea," he added when he saw her eyebrows raise inquisitively.
"And Jonathan left this morning for the Bio-lympics competition in Hartford," Angela supplied.
"And Sam's at the dorm using my notes to cram for a World History final on Monday."
"Looks like it's just you and me then," Angela said with a sly smile. It had been weeks, if not months, since she and Tony had had anything resembling a night to themselves that wasn't hindered by the presence of family or the demands of work and school. The odds of it happening tonight of all nights could only mean Fate was smiling on them for once.
"Well, since we're stuck together for the evening, it's a good thing I happen to like you. In fact, I happen to love you." Tony leaned over to place a soft kiss on her lips before continuing. "So, can I tempt my new fiancée with a plate of shrimp linguine, a side of sautéed asparagus spears, and a raspberry and chocolate fudge tort for dessert?"
"Oohh, you must love me to make all that. But won't that take too long? It's already past seven."
"Oh ye of little faith. In one hour, I will give you an engagement celebration you will never forget … Unless you'd rather go out," he added as an afterthought. He hadn't considered she might want to go to La Fluer or Shae René for an intimate candlelit dinner with a string quartet playing softly in the background. "Because if you want, we can go wherever you want …"
"Tony, Tony," she stopped his mouth with her finger, "I'm exactly where I want to be. I'll see you in one hour." She pecked him quickly on the lips and then disappeared up the stairs.
When she was gone, Tony fairly danced out to the kitchen. He was engaged to the smartest, most beautiful, funniest, sexiest, and most beautiful woman in the world. She loved him, and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. And he loved her. More than even he had fully realized. The past week had been sheer hell for him. It was his worst nightmare come true, the reason he'd denied his feeling for so many years. She had turned him down. Just the memory of it caused him to wince as he set a pot of water to boil.
Shaking his head, he made his way to the fridge for some garlic and heavy cream to make an Alfredo sauce. The tedious task of peeling and chopping garlic sent his mind drifting again. She'd turned him down. He had proposed … he had finally, fully accepted what he needed in life, to have her by his side forever, and she said no. While he understood now why she'd panicked, he would never forget those agonizing moments when he'd thought he'd lost her forever. After that, he became determined to make her understand how much he needed her, how much he loved her. She had to see that she was what he wanted to live for. He knew now that what he'd been searching for after Joey's funeral was something that would allow him to face death fulfilled and complete. That something was Angela. She completed him. He could accept death only as long as he died knowing she loved him enough to be his wife. And he would have rented a marquee in Time Square to make her see how much he wanted to marry her. It had become a challenge, but not one that was ego driven. He just wanted her to understand that she was his life.
And she had.
She had come to him, open and honest about the insecurities that had plagued her, and which were not unlike his own. He may never be able to fully understand the fear that had gripped her that night in Vermont, or in the week since, but he knew it had been every bit as real as his own.
While Tony was sautéeing shrimp and whipping cake batter, Angela was pouring over her wardrobe, contemplating what to wear. Her velvet black cocktail dress? The sparkly, red evening gown? The teal tea-length? Slacks? Heck, sweat pants? No. No. No. Nothing seemed just right. Damn, she wished she'd had time to go to Saks.
Deciding to switch her focus to her hair, she pulled the towel off and began to comb the knots from the long strands. This was an easy one: She was going natural. Crimping and scrunching, she worked her fingers through the moussed tresses to ensure they dried with maximum curl. She wanted her hair to look soft and full, unencumbered, relaxed – everything she herself wasn't feeling at the moment.
Angela reminded herself this was supposed to be a happy occasion. And she was happy, elated with a silly kind of shocked disbelief in fact. But still worried. She hoped Tony had understood everything she'd said to him. She knew he loved her, but sometimes it was so hard to trust that he loved with the same aching depth she loved him. He was her life, and as surely as she needed her heart to keep beating in order to breathe, she needed to have Tony in her life. Which was why it had been so easy to keep her love to herself for four years. Having him in her life at all had been more important than the role he'd played in it.
But now that was different. Now he wanted to marry her, and that required her to trust that their relationship could survive entirely on the strength of their love alone. No more pretenses. No more false supports. Everything would rest on emotions that she knew she wouldn't survive being wrong about.
It was time to let go of her fear. It was time strip away the final barriers and accept what she knew in her heart. Tony loved her – he loved her in a way that couldn't be quantified in comparison to her love for him. It was equal, it was enduring, it was forever.
Looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, Angela met her own eyes and saw in them confidence and security. Loving Tony, being with Tony, marrying Tony would never cause her doubt again.
Suddenly, she knew exactly what she'd going to wear.
At ten minutes to eight, Tony lit the candles on the little table near the fireplace. It was the table he'd come to think of as theirs, ever since the night of their second anniversary six years earlier. It was the table where they'd shared their first candlelit dinner barley two months into his arrival, and it had been used many other times over the years, including their disastrous first date as a real couple only a few months ago. After that night, he'd thought perhaps it was time to retire the beautiful mahogany dinette, but tonight certainly had the potential to restore his faith in it.
The wine was chilling in the bucket, chaffing dishes were keeping the food warm, and the fire was dancing a snappy tune in the hearth. Now it was Tony's turn to get ready.
Upstairs, he noted that Angela's bedroom door was still firmly shut, but he also knew his time was limited. His shower could have set Olympic records, and served only to wash the scent of garlic from his skin. When the clock hit eight, he was jogging back down stairs. His hair was combed, his charcoal suit jacket carried the heady scent of his cologne, and the red and silver tie was Angela's favorite.
He knew it was silly to get so dressed up for a dinner at home, but it was their tradition. It was where they were most comfortable and wanted to be. As an afterthought, he popped in a CD of their favorite love songs, and the first notes of "It Had to be You" had barely escaped the speakers when he caught her scent. It wasn't roses or lilacs. It wasn't Chanel or Estee Lauder. It was Angela. It was the same scent she carried with her into the kitchen every morning, and the one that clung to the pillow cases he washed every Friday. It was the scent that even tonight caused his insides to quicken and his eyes to search her out.
His breath caught in his throat. She glowed. It may have been the gold silk of the dress illuminating her skin. Or maybe it was the matching radiance of her hair as it flowed over her shoulders. Tony decided it was the bliss he saw beaming from her eyes.
"You're stunning." The champange-colored dress dropped in a straight line from the thin straps at her shoulder to the tops of matching colored toenails encased in a pair of delicate heels made of little more than dental floss. Winking at him from its place above the subtle cowl neckline of the dress was the solitaire diamond she was rarely without. Its siblings sparkled from her ears. When she moved toward him, the tissue-thin silk of the dress seemed to defy physics as it floated with her. The effect was intoxicating.
Angela blushed in response to Tony's compliment. "Thank you."
"Believe me, it's my pleasure," he said, smiling as his eyes swept over her once more time.
He took her hand and led her to the table. The firelight only further enhanced the luminosity of her skin and hair. The residents of Mount Olympus offered no worthy competition.
It was then that Angela took time to savor the striking image Tony made. The suit she knew be bought on sale at Bloomingdales could have shamed Armani's best, moving with him as though tailor-made for his body. And what a body! The only part of him more appealing than the shoulders that filled out his jacket were his eyes staring back at her. They were warm and inviting, twin pools of melted chocolate. She found herself swimming in their inviting depths, barley noticing as he moved toward her, lifted her face to his and brushed his lips over hers. But what began as a soft sip soon deepened into a long drink until Angela felt her knees weaken, causing her to sink into the chair behind her. When their mouths parted, both were noticeably shaken and surprised by the force of the passion released by one kiss.
Not wanting to tempt himself further, Tony retreated to the kitchen only long enough to retrieve the pasta and vegetables.
"Oh Tony, it smells wonderful."
"And I promise you, it tastes even better. May I offer you some shrimp linguine Alfredo?"
"Please," she replied, inhaling the savory aromas of the pasta.
In seconds, they had matching plates of pasta and asparagus spears, seasoned bruschetta, and a glass of Chardonnay. It was better than any restaurant.
Sinatra was crooning to the woman he had under his skin when Angela took her first bite, but Old Blue Eyes's voice disappeared amid the savory flavors of Tony's culinary talents.
"Oh Tony. Oh my goodness, this is sinful."
"You like it?" he asked modestly.
"Like it? It's divine. Aren't you going to try it?" She indicated the fork he held empty in his hand.
"Oh. Yeah." He had gotten so caught up watching her, the way she twirled the pasta, the way her lips surrounded her fork and her eyes closed as she took in the flavors. He had become mesmerized by her tongue as it flicked out to lick a drop of sauce from her upper lip, and in his enchantment forgot to sample his own food.
When he did, he found it exceptionally good, better than he'd hoped for.
"Not bad for short notice."
"Tony, this is wonderful. This is the best engagement celebration I could have imagined. You thought of everything, as you always do."
"Just doing my job, ma'am."
They lapsed into a comfortable silence until Sinatra gave way to Bette Midler's "The Rose."
"I love this song," Angela said.
"I know."
She considered him for a moment, then said, "You know a lot about me. More than anyone I've ever known. Why does that scare me sometimes?" Angela didn't really expect an answer, and was even a little sorry she'd let the words slip out. So when she heard Tony's voice, her eyes lifted to his.
"Because you're afraid I'll see something that will make me leave. But Angela, that's not going to happen. I love you, warts and all."
"I do not have warts!" she said indignantly, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
"We'll see," he said back, vexing her even more.
Then her features softened. "I guess we'll have even more to learn about each other once we're … married." She paused, the decided to continue. "Tony?"
"Hmm?"
"Does that sound as weird to you as it does to me?"
"What?"
"Married. It's been a long time since either one of us faced something like this."
"I think it will take some getting used to, but I know it's what I want. More than anything, Angela."
"Me too." Angela reached across the table to clasp his hand. It was a gesture of reassurance in case he'd misinterpreted her words.
Still, he asked, "You are sure, right? You're not thinking too much again, are you?"
"No, nothing like that. I meant what I said. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I'm just getting used to admitting I need someone that much."
"I know what you mean," he said solemnly. "Even after I knew I loved you, I couldn't admit how much ... how much I count on you being in my life. But I think this past week showed me that I don't need anything else as long as I have you."
"Oh Tony." There were tears in her eyes, which Tony felt compelled to wipe away with the corner of his napkin.
"No crying, this is supposed to be a celebration. Now come on, finish your asparagus."
Angela smiled, sniffed, and returned her attention to her plate. They were both silent as Bette's soft voice washed over them.
The music faded out and was replaced by Paul McCartney's ballad to Jude. Angela met Tony's eyes once more, silently telling him she knew he remembered this was her favorite song, and she also knew that's why it was on the CD of love songs he'd given her for her last birthday, just after they'd gotten back from Washington D.C.
Angela hated taking the last bite of shrimp. She firmly believed a meal this good should last until you no longer wanted to eat – with no ill effects. Reluctantly, she put her fork down and announced, "Tony, I think I can safely say that's the best dinner I've had in years. Even if I didn't love you, I think I could marry you for your cooking alone."
"Angela, if that was the case, we would have been married seven years ago," he quipped with a grin.
"Maybe we should have been."
"What? Married?" he asked quizzically as he set down his wine glass.
"Yes." She often wondered what would have happened if they hadn't kept their feeling for each other bottled up for so long. Did their fears have merit, or were they merely unwilling to take the chance?
"Angela, look what it took for us to get engaged after more than seven years of waiting. I don't think either one of us was anywhere near ready before now."
"I suppose you're right. I guess sometimes I can't help but wonder what if."
Tony stood up and walked over to where she sat. Taking her hand, he gently pulled her to her feet. "In that case, what if we see what happens when I put my hand here," his right arm encircled her waist, "and you put this hand here," her left hand came to rest on his shoulder, "and I take this hand in mine, and you move your feet in the same direction as my feet."
Angela felt the wine begin to work its magic on her system. Her limbs were loose and pliable. Her skin welcomed the warmth of Tony's body. And her mind became still and quiet, sinking into the rhythm of the music and feeling nothing but him. With her eyes closed, Tony became her world as he guided her across the floor, the feel of his fingers around her, the subtle coarseness of his cheek next to her, the steady beat of his heart against her chest. It was like so many other times that he'd held her in his arms, but tonight was also different. It was the night when all their defenses, all their insecurities came down. It felt as though nothing could come between them ever again. And while Angela knew no one could be absolutely certain of what the future held, at this moment, on this night, she and Tony knew only contentment.
It seemed hours later that the CD finally ended. They had danced to the Righteous Brothers, Patsy Cline, Dean Martin, Eric Clapton, and even Madonna. The words changed, the beat changed, but still they moved as one, each turn, each step bringing them closer together. When the player clicked off, it took several seconds for them to realize there was no music. It was with great regret that Tony slid his hand from its place low on Angela's back. But when she turned her face to his, all thoughts of pulling away vanished into the kiss he found himself falling headlong into. It was heated and desperate, aching and compelling all at once. It was a kiss with promise, a kiss that spoke of desire and a need for more. His tongue swept past hers and pushed deeper as she clung to his back for support. She held on for dear life, wanting to keep his mouth on her forever. She wanted to go farther, to where she'd waited so many years to go with him. And she knew tonight was their night.
But Tony had to stop, he had to fight his way back to Earth. Breaking away took no less than the strength of Hercules, but he had to, or else risk ravishing her where she stood.
"Whoa … Angela, give me a minute."
"Are you okay?"
"No, I mean yes. I'm fine, fantastic." He paused, took a breath, "I'm just not sure what to do next."
"I'm pretty sure you'll figure it out as we go."
"Angela," he nearly growled, "that's not what I mean."
"No, I didn't think so." She looked at him intently, waiting.
"I mean, I know we set the scene, and all lights appear to be green, and God knows how bad I want this, but … are you sure?"
"Tony, I – we – have waited for this night for a long time. I had no idea when I got up this morning that today would end with so many of my dreams coming true."
"I just want our first time together to be special. Last time we tried this, it didn't work out so well, and I don't want a re-enactment of our night at the Fairfield Inn."
"I know. But do you really want to keep waiting? Do you really want to go to separate bedrooms and spend the night wondering what if? Or do you want to find out, finally, if everything we've been feeling for seven years is as wonderful as we hope?"
It was everything she'd ever wanted to say to him.
"I said once that this is something we couldn't do until we were married. That was the only way I could stop myself from giving in to how much I wanted you, how much I loved you. Now that you know, there's no reason for either of us to be afraid, is there?"
She shook her head in confirmation, and holding hands, they left the dishes on the table, the wine in the bucket, and made their way to the steps.
Upstairs, they both walked toward Angela's room, knowing, intuitively, that it was the right place. Not Jamaica, not the Fairfield Inn, but their home was where they were meant to be together. When they married, it would become their room, in their house.
Angela walked in first, the merest hint of self-consciousness creeping over her. She felt Tony's hand grow damp in hers as he followed her across the threshold.
The room looked exactly as it had when Tony left it earlier that day after making the bed and collecting the laundry. It was a room he'd been in countless times over the years. He knew there was a scratch on the dresser underneath her jewelry box, and that her shoes were organized on the left side of the closet. He knew which drawers held her favorite baggy sweatshirts and which held more intimate apparel. This room held few secrets from him, but those it did, he respected religiously. He'd never opened the jewelry box that hid the scratch, and he'd never snooped into the miniature cedar chest in the back of the closet he kept scrupulously organized. He rarely handled the silk and lace garments that were enclosed in the drawers, and did his best to do his job in that room in the most expedient and efficient manner possible. For no matter how many hours he'd clocked in Angela's bedroom, it always remained, unquestionably, her space. While he may have harbored some territorial pride over other rooms in the house, this room was off-limits to him, as much by choice as by circumstance.
Angela's thoughts as her eyes swept from the pink bedspread to the gleaming cherry furniture were in much the same vein. No man had spent the night in this room in seven years. It was symbolic somehow that so few had even been allowed to see this private space, yet it was a room Tony had seen on a daily basis for nearly just as long.
Turning toward him now, she knew she'd been waiting to bring him here, to be in this room with him, and take him to her bed. She admitted to herself that there had been no other man she thought of when she imagined having someone in her bedroom. It was always Tony. And now he was here.
"Are you nervous?" she asked.
"Nah. You?"
"Scared to death."
"Me too."
Taking a deep breath, Tony looked into her eyes, then down to her nose and mouth. Then he focused on the curl of her hair, down to the seductive slope of her neck. He took in every feature and thought of the many times over the years he'd admired her beauty: when she'd opened her door to him that first day, looking adorable in that pink bathrobe; when she's been wrapped in a sheet in a dingy motel room in Vermont; when he'd reveled in the softness of her feet as he massaged them after a wedding; when those sexy legs had been showcased by a metallic miniskirt; and especially when he's had his very first taste of her – flour and Jose Quervo – and underneath both, a distinctive and now familiar flavor that he craved like a drug.
In the barest whisper, he breathed her name before instinct took over and he wrapped his arms around her. This kiss was dizzying, electrifying, and instantly dispelled the cloud of uncertainty that had been hanging over them.
Angela felt a power, a confidence, spill over her as she pushed Tony's suit jacket from his shoulders and ran her hands down his arms. Then she took a step back and walked to the bureau where a trio of candles sat. She lit them, along with two others on the end tables, and instantly, the room was bathed in a warm, honey glow. Tony was awe-struck by the sight of the woman he loved illuminated by light that so perfectly matched the hue of her hair and skin. She looked positively ethereal.
Moments later, she felt his thumbs, so soft and firm on her shoulders, slowly inching the thin gold straps down her arms. Before she could fully indulge in the feel of his hands caressing her collar bone, she felt the gold silk ripple to the floor like a waterfall. Her sheer bra and panties drew his eyes even has his hands worked to remove them with the anticipation of an archeologist unearthing the Holy Grail. Her instinct was to retract in self-consciousness, but she held tight to the power of the moment. Years of being on guard, hiding behind robes and pajamas, double checking buttons and zippers, slipped away as easily as the dress had.
She allowed him to look at her, to skim her body with his eyes. He inhaled sharply. She was a vision.
"I thought I'd imagined it," he said softly.
"Imagined what?" she's asked, still trying to stave off the creeping tendrils of modesty.
"How beautiful you are. After I saw you in the bathtub, I convinced myself that there was no way anyone could be so perfect. I was wrong."
What began as a blush, bloomed into warmth and arousal.
"There's only one problem, Tony," she said coyly, "You have me at a disadvantage. You've seen me like this twice, but I can't say the same about you."
"Well, then we'd better rectify that."
When his hands began to loosen his tie, Angela stopped him. "No, let me." She lifted the tie over his head, and immediately directed her attention to the buttons of his dress shirt. One by one she pushed them through their holes until she reached the button of his pants. Steadying herself, she unfastened them and then slowly slid the zipper down.
In moments, his shirt and pants had joined her dress on the floor. Moving toward him, she placed her mouth at his collarbone and kissed him there, letting her hands fan out across his chest. Tony thought he'd die from the sensations that coursed through his system. Finally, she brought her mouth back up to his, and he pulled her against him in one fluid motion. For the first time, he felt her body flush against his, her breasts against his chest, her belly pressed to his, the length of her legs along his. Keeping their mouths joined, Angela reached between them and slowly moved the elastic band of his boxers downward. It was the last barrier between them, and an inadequate one at that.
With the care and deliberation of two people who had waited, endured, and finally arrived, they took their time. Each touch was a discovery, each taste a delicacy. When Tony ran his hand down her back, as he had so many times when they'd danced, he didn't stop at the small dip near her waist, but continued along the rounded curve of her bottom. When Angela pressed her palms to his chest, she paused to investigate the pattern of hair that swirled through her fingers and followed it as it tapered downward.
Holding fast to his waning control, Tony drew his hands upward, memorizing the flare of her hips, the slope of her waist, and at last arriving at the swell of her breasts. A sigh escaped her when he cupped them, but the sigh turned to a gasp when his thumbs skimmed over the peaks. He caught her breath in a kiss, then murmured in her ear, "Do you know how long I've dreamed of this? How long I've wanted to touch you like this, how many times I've imagined hearing you gasp in pleasure the way you just did? Do you know how long I've wanted you?"
Angela could only whimper and nod in answer, her ability to speak lost to Tony's masterful hands. When he kissed a path from her shoulder to her breast, she arched her back in an offering and allowed him to carry her the few steps to the bed. There, he laid her down and returned his attention to her body, making love with his mouth to each breast while his hands continued their exploration of every hill and valley. The pace each set was exquisite madness. Angela's fingers were light as a feather one second the bold and strong the next as she teased the taut muscles of his shoulders and back.
When Tony reached her center, he paused only long enough for her to recognize the next step. With the care one would use to handle spun glass, he moved his hand over her and began ever so gently to massage her.
A flash of light exploded before her eyes, sending her mind spinning and her hands grasping toward the sheets. The waves of her climax carried her from a desire to take, to a need to give. Her mouth found his, even as her hands reached toward his hard arousal. Through a fog of sensation, he broke the kiss and drew back when he felt her drawing him toward her.
"I want to look at you."
Angela met his eyes and held them, their rich color deepening as he moved himself toward her. And slowly, cherishing and savoring every sensation, he slid himself into her.
Words dissolved, thoughts disintegrated, and even self-awareness was lost to the exhilaration they found in each other. They were joined in body and in mind, each giving themselves over completely to the greedy demands of their passion. They offered and welcomed, touched and embraced, and moved together in a dance made perfect by the love that blazed between them.
The wild beating of her heart leaped at Tony through the kiss he placed at the hollow of her throat. He drank in the pleasure he brought her and returned it to her with each intimate caress, each graze of his lips over her skin. And she returned in equal measure, pulling him deep into her while she played his body with expert fingers.
Feeling his body tense with her own, Angela held him to her. Whispering his name, pulling him deep, she gave herself to over to the current of passion that ripped through her. Tony could only cling blindly, then plunge with her into the exquisite abyss.
Minutes? Hours? Days? Tony couldn't really say how much time had passed since they'd entered the bedroom. For all he knew, a new president could have been elected. For all he cared, he'd prefer to stay in bed with Angela until one was.
Her skin was slick and hot next to his, and he knew his weight must be causing her some discomfort. Shifting to the side, he gathered her close so that she turned to rest her head on his shoulder. With one arm holding her to him, he used to other to pull the comforter over them.
Once settled, he pressed his nose to her hair and breathed deeply, then placed a soft kiss near her temple.
"Hey there, beautiful."
"Hi." Her voice was a purr.
He smiled down at her and traced a finger along her cheek. He'd never seen her look more lovely.
The effort it took to turn her head toward him offered convincing evidence that her bones had not quite re-solidified yet. Warm and languid in his arms, she basked in sensations that she considered exclusively female and utterly feline. Her limbs were warm and loose, and her mind was filled with words that all failed to describe the overwhelming contentment and soft heat that surrounded her heart.
She was in bed with the man she loved. And the love they'd made had been worth every minute and every hurdle of the past seven years.
Tony read the thoughts in her eyes. "I know."
"Know what?"
"It was so much more."
"Yes, it was." She closed her eyes and thought how lucky she was to have someone who knew her so well. And loved her so much.
Several minutes passed with them just enjoying the feel of the other. It was nothing less than years' worth of dreams come true. Angela couldn't count the nights she'd lain in this bed and imagined how it would feel to have Tony next to her. She said as much to him now.
"We're really here, aren't we? In this bed, beneath these covers? I'm not dreaming again, and going to wake up and remember that you're across the hall?"
"Nope. I'm really here. And I never want to be anywhere else."
"Neither do I. You feel so good, so perfect next to me. How did we go so long apart?" She leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his shoulder, then traced her hand across his chest, enjoying the freedom to be able to do all the intimate and private things that had been denied her for so long.
"Sometimes, I wish I knew."
He leaned over to kiss her then and welcomed the warmth of her lips against his in a way he never had before. It was a wonder to him that after having known her for so many years, there were still so many new discoveries to be made.
But there were also many givens that he knew he could count on, and one of them was chocolate cake.
"You know, Angela, there's a chocolate-raspberry fudge cake that's probably still gooey and warm sitting on the table."
While her eyes lit up like Christmas morning, the quickly darkened with lingering arousal. "You know Tony, I think I may finally have found a dessert I like better than chocolate cake."
"Oh really?"
"Uh-huh."
"And what might that be?" he asked, turning toward her while keeping her pressed against him.
"You. Every single, delicious square inch of you." She punctuated each word with a kiss to his shoulder, his neck, his jaw, and finally to his lips.
He caressed her arm, from shoulder to hand, and then inter-laced their fingers. "Would you like seconds?" he asked seductively.
She giggled at their new-found wantonness, before letting her body answer for her.
"I'll take that as a yes," he gasped when her hand found him ready and waiting.
Angela awoke hours later feeling sinuously loose and relaxed. Glancing around the room, still awash in an amber glow, the thought crossed her mind that it was probably not a good idea to fall asleep with candles still burning. But she also wasn't worried enough to actually get out of bed to blow them out. However, the sound of jazz wafting though the room was something new, as was the small, black box that had been place on the bed. She glanced up to find Tony sitting next to her with the velvet-covered cube between them.
"It was in my jacket pocket," he said by way of explanation. Then, softer, "Open it."
Moving slowly, as her eyes slid from Tony to the box and then back to him, she reached down and picked it up. The lid popped open as her fingers gently pried the top up, and nestled inside was a delicate gold ring bearing three small brilliant-cut diamonds. Angela eyes widened in astonishment.
"Tony! It's stunning!"
"I figured since we've known each other so long, that the ring could represent our past, our present, and our long, sure-to-be wonderful future. I'm only sorry it couldn't be bigger."
"Don't even think that. It's perfect."
He took her hand in his and pulled her fingertips to his lips, where he placed a small kiss on each one. His eyes connected with hers, and she felt the spark between them shoot straight through to her heart.
"Angela, please believe, in my whole life, I could never love anyone as much, as deeply, as truly as I love you." Then he slid the ring onto her finger where its sparkle was rivaled only by the light in her eyes.
"I love you too, more than I ever thought possible."
The kiss that followed spoke of all the hope, passion, friendship, history, and unity forged over more than seven years. And yet it was also a beginning, a promise, of so much more to come.
When the rest of the family arrived home the next evening, the living room was spotless, the kitchen immaculate except for a pot of wedding soup simmering on the stove, and any evidence that Tony and Angela had even spent the weekend in the same house had disappeared.
But no one was fooled, least of all Mona.
The tension that had permeated the house for the past week seemed to have been swept out the door with the contents of Tony's dust pan. Angela was humming to herself in her study as she pretended to read an article about marketing trends in the fashion industry, and Tony was whistling a goofy tune as he prepared a loaf of Italian bread for the oven.
Jonathan raised an eyebrow in question at the strange behavior, but feared retribution if his suspicion that his mother and Tony had come to an accord was wrong. So he made a bee-line for his room and hoped someone would clue him in sooner or later.
Sam was a bit bolder, at least with her father. "So things sure seem to be a little more relaxed around here."
Tony offered a noncommittal shrug and queried, "Really, ya think?" as though the thought hadn't occurred to him.
But his perceptive daughter would not be so easily waylayed. "So what happened? Are you two getting along?"
Tony paused, as if thinking about that. "I guess you could say that." And then he checked the bread to make sure it was browning in the oven and turned to add more black pepper to the soup.
Sam huffed in response and practically stomped out of the room, thereby missing the sly smile her father couldn't contain.
But when Mona found Angela daydreaming in her study, she didn't bother with discretion or tact.
"Well, it's about damn time."
Angela eyes flew up from the hearts she was mindlessly doodling in the margins of her article and locked on to her mother.
Her stammered response sounded insincere even to her own ears. "What are you talking about, Mother?"
"Don't play coy with me, Angela. You and Tony both look like the cat that ate the canary, and the feathers are still fluttering around your head."
Try as she might, Angela couldn't prevent the telling blush from creeping into her cheeks, and Mona wasted no time picking up on it.
"Ah-ha! I knew it. I walked by Tony in the kitchen and thought his face was going to split, he was grinning so much. And here you are staring into space and humming to yourself. Looks like Atlantic City isn't the only place to get lucky these days."
"Mother, it wasn't like that," Angela protested indignantly.
"I know that dear," Mona said with a smile, "and no one is happier for you than I am. Now come here and give me a hug – and let me see that ring!"
Angela didn't hesitate, and for the next few minutes, both women gushed over the ring as the younger woman divulged the few details she was conformable sharing with her mother. "It was incredible. Tony is incredible. I've never been so happy," she concluded with another sappy grin.
Angela wiped away a few stray tears, and Mona met her gaze in a rare show of earnest emotion and said, "You deserve it. Both of you."
"Thank you, Mother."
Hours later, the house was quiet once again.
Dinner had been a joyous affair with all five members of the family crowded around the kitchen table talking and laughing and of course making wedding plans. Somewhere in the chaos, Angela met Tony's eyes as they sat side by side, and the emotion that passed between them confirmed how special this dinner with their family was. Samantha and Jonathan had both squealed with delight when Angela – under intense pressure from the kids to fess up about what had ended the tense stalemate of the past week – proffered her left hand so that the ring spoke for itself. A million questions were asked and answered, some less candidly than others, but the prevailing sentiment was one of astonished, though joyous, disbelief that this day would ever arrive.
Now, with Jonathan in bed early after a long drive from Hartford, and Mona unpacking from her trip, Tony and Angela cozied up on the sofa and let a wave of sheer contentment wash over them. They had made love time and again the night before and into the morning, and while neither was eager to resume an abstinent relationship, they knew their time together would be hindered by the example they wanted to set for Jonathan, and to some degree even Samantha, though she was no longer living in the house. Neither was comfortable with the idea of Tony openly sharing her bed before they were married, so until that yet-to-be-determined day arrived, their private time together would remain a rare and highly classified occurrence.
But that didn't stop them from exploring their newfound familiarity as they reclined together in the corner of the couch, Angela tucked securely under Tony's arm. She near-purred as Tony's hand caressed her neck, slipping under the collar of her shirt to feel the soft skin of her shoulder and collarbone. She turned toward him and drew his mouth to hers while her hand slid around his neck and held him fast against her.
When they parted, Angela murmured something so softly that Tony had to strain to hear.
"What was that, Angela?" he whispered back.
"I said, there are no words."
And indeed there were not. Tony brought her hand to his lips, placing a kiss on her palm and then drew her hand away until they could both look at the ring that sat regally on her finger. While there was so much they both could say, and so many emotions swirling around them, they found themselves with no need to say anything at all. Their very presence on the sofa, the ease they shared in both touch and look, and the profound love that surrounded them as surely as a blanket said more than words ever could.