There were a few more gray hairs on his head these days; the jet black color slightly more salt and pepper than the inky blackness that had been his youth. It's a sophisticated look that suits him. He's distinguished amongst his younger peers at the high school he teaches. His eyes have remained pretty much the same. The soft chocolate brown was still warm and inviting; there were a few wrinkles at the corners of his eyes but the vibrancy that had sparkled in his eyes in his youth was still there. He still takes care of himself; drinks plenty of water, jogs for miles every morning and lifts weights when he indulges in the little free time he's presented with these days. His job as a teacher is hard and he has to work hard to keep himself amongst the top three teachers in the school. An accomplishment of which he's rather proud.

Time has aged him well.

He's still the same handsome, muscular Italian that stood in front of her, stubbornly pleading with her to give him a chance as her housekeeper all those years ago. She had been reluctant but he had been persistent in his pursuit to obtain the job, if not for his sake then for the sake of his daughter. She hadn't been able to argue with the need of a single father looking to better the life of his daughter. Their presence in the house had taken some adjustment but once they found the rhythm, it all worked out. As the months turned into years, Sam's life hadn't been the only thing made better by his move from Brooklyn. Their presence, especially his, had changed her life for the better. She found that she enjoyed his presence. His presence eased her into a different mindset. She found that she worked less; wanting to stay home with her family, with him more than anything. She loosened up and enjoyed life. It was all because of him.

His job as a housekeeper hadn't come without boundaries; lines that couldn't be crossed. He had crossed them anyways. He had crossed, blurred and done everything in his power to completely eradicate those stupid employer-employee lines. She won't deny the fact that she enjoyed it. She liked knowing that if she worked late, he would put a plate in the fridge for her and tape a note to the plastic wrap with instructions on how to heat it up. She liked knowing that if she worked too late, he'd take drastic action to get her home and in her own bed before she burned out. She liked his concern, his protectiveness and his friendship. Even after all of this time, she still enjoyed those things about him.

He was still her best friend.

Even though time had worked its magic on their friendship and the silver band on his finger now gave him the distinguished title of her husband after eight long years. It had been a long road to the altar but when they had finally made it and the vows had been exchanged, it had been the best moment in both of their lives. She had the rare honor of saying that she had really and truly married her best friend.

Tonight she watches him when he comes home like she always does. He walks through the door, humming his favorite tune, Luna Mezzo Mare, keys jingling in his hand and his briefcase dangling from his free hand. His jacket is slung over his arm and the sleeves of his burgandy shirt are rolled up to his elbows. He drops his briefcase and keys on the desk, removes his wallet from his pocket and does the same. It's his routine and he doesn't change it - did she mention he's stubborn?

She appreciates the graceful way he moves, easy and natural. He's an athlete by build. A strong, muscular frame and a body made to take the abuse of sports. The way he moves, so easy and natural, almost as if he's moving to a rhythm is fluid and almost a contradiction to his athletic frame. He doesn't notice her and he won't until he goes to hang his jacket on the hook and catches her eye in the mirror. It takes him a few minutes to get everything in order but when he does, he heads for the coat rack to hang his coat. She slips up behind him, leaning an elbow on the banister and resting her chin in her palm, content to just watch him. Sure enough, when he hangs his coat up, he catches her eye in the mirror. His smile is different now. Instead of the broad, happy smile she usually received, tonight it's softer. There's a touch of gentility, of sensuality in it and the tenderness is unmistakable.

"See something you like, Missus Micelli?" He raises an eyebrow, watching her flush and her chocolate eyes flit around, staring everywhere but at him. It thrills him to know that he can still make her blush. Perhaps it's knowing her as long as he has. He knows all too well what makes her flush just like he knows what makes her giggle, what makes her cry and what frightens her - he still has to hold her during that one scene of Poltergeist. Not that he minds of course, he adores his wife and if that scene meant she'd rather be wrapped in his arms than a blanket, he wouldn't object.

"As a matter of fact I do." Her smile reaches her eyes. She can't remember the last time she had smiled like this; the wide, genuinely happy grin that reached her eyes and lit up her face. She certainly doesn't remember ever smiling like this with Michael. He hadn't been much to smile over. The man in front of her, the man she's been pondering and watching for ten minutes is the one she smiles over now. "I don't see something, I see someone I love."

"That's funny, Missus Micelli because I see someone I love too." He turns to face her, his eyes meeting hers. Her eyes, alight with affection, are something he's always adored. The soft sultry look of her deep-set dark eyes have always drawn him in and now is no different. Her hair is a little more gray, her eyes are a little bit softer and time has aged her but she's still his best friend, his wife and he stills finds her as beautiful as he did on the day he married her and he makes sure she's aware of this all the time. "And boy, does she look cute today."

"Stop, you're making me blush."

"Good. I like to see you blush." He brushes her flushed cheek with his knuckles. "It suits you."

And it does. He's always thought so. It suits her better than any make-up could and it's a wonderful reminder of how full of life she was, even now. He's not saying it because he's biased - and he is - he's saying it because it's true.

He stills remembers how she looked when she answered the door the first time they met. Her hair had been wrapped in a towel, darker roots barely peeking out from the pink fabric. Her pink bathrobe had been evidence of her haste to get to the door. He still remembers the shock that had registered on her face when he told her why he was there. The reluctance to give him the job that had all but vanished completely when he introduced her to Sam. Looking back on it now, he's not sure if Sam's black eye and baseball cap had been the best first impression his daughter could have given but it was also the reason they left Brooklyn.

Sam had needed more than what Brooklyn could give her and in all honesty, so had he. Connecticut had so much more to offer than Brooklyn - in more ways than one these days. He hadn't planned on having his boss become his best friend and he certainly hadn't planned on falling for her - then again, he hadn't known at the time that his boss would be a blonde bombshell of a woman, who worked her ass off for every damn thing she owned. She was respected and admired in her world and when her world collided with his, he had fallen hard. He had loved Marie, yes, but in all honesty that happiness had been short lived. They hadn't had a real wedding to speak of, having eloped and it wasn't long after the birth of Sam that she had fallen ill. It had been short lived but he had been devoted.

Like he was now.

Only now, he had the rest of his life and hers to look forward too. Their wedding had been a tremendous affair, filled with family, friends, laughter and as is traditional with any Italian wedding, enough food to send everybody home with enough leftovers to last them the rest of the week. He could still remember the happiness on Angela's face as Jonathan walked her down the aisle before taking his place as Tony's best man. He could still remember Sam and Mona standing at Angela's side wiping their tears and smiling with giddy excitement as the two finally made their marriage official.

"You know," His voice is soft, reverent and tender as he gathers her in his arms, memories of his life with Marie and his new life with Angela nearly overwhelming him. "I love you, Angela."

"I love you too, Tony." She whispers against his shoulder. "I think I'll keep you."

Tony can't help but chuckle as he looks down at her, "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." Angela smiles that stupidly happy smile that's reminiscent of a teenage girl grinning with giddy excitement over her first crush.

"Well I think I'll keep you too." Tony laughs, tightening his hold on her.

"Good."

Yes, time had aged them both. Their friendship had evolved and changed, blossoming into a romance that had led them to where they were now. The memories of how they used to be still linger and where they're going as time continues on, is something they look forward to learning. They were determined to go wherever life took them with each other because being without each other now was impossible and unimaginable.

They were looking forward to forever.