Awkward Moment Five, part III (Cardinal Sin, conclusion)

"So, are you givin' me the silent treatment now?"

"No," came the muffled reply.

"Then why you haven't said anything since we got on the plane? Come on, Angela. Give me a break here … I didn't do anythin' wrong!" Tony said, hurt.

"I don't really have anything to say. And no, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm not mad at you." Angela turned from the window to face him. "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at me."

"Why? Because you had too much wine? Because we kissed? I don't get what the big deal is." Tony truly was perplexed. He hadn't understood why she'd run out on him earlier and felt that her reaction was unwarranted. So, they'd kissed? So what? She'd been drunk and that had been his fault in the first place because of Betty. Tony was a 'fixer' and right now, he needed to fix things between himself and Angela. A flutter of panic was edging its way across his gut like an unwelcome storm cloud and he wanted it gone. He tentatively put his hand over hers and grasped it in both of his, startling her. "Angela, can we talk about this, please?"

Angela looked down at their joined hands and wanted to cry. His strong, warm fingers were holding her delicate slim ones with such determination. "Oh Tony," she began to say, but was rendered silent by the sudden jarring sensation of turbulence. Her fingers tightened around his and her stomach lurched at the intense jostling.

"Are you alright? We only hit an air pocket," he told her. Angela's nails were digging into his palms and he could see fear in her dark, worried eyes.

"I'm fine," she said weakly.

"No, you're not."

"Tony, I'm still … a bit hung over. The turbulence isn't helping."

"That's it? 'Cause you're piercing my flesh here, Angela!" Tony let go of her hand and shook his out.

"Sorry, oh, sorry Tony."

"Angela, stop apologizin'. For this and for the other stuff too. You got nothin' to be embarrassed about. Or afraid of." Tony gingerly took her hand in his once more and gave her a tender look. "But if you insist on apologizin', you could apologize for bein' such a lousy dancer last night. Now that was downright embarrassin'." His warm brown eyes sparkled with merriment.

"I … I danced badly?" Angela wasn't sure how to respond to his teasing, but she seized the invitation to speak and let down her guard.

"Oh-ay, Angela, aren't your toes sore today? You kept smashin' them into mine. You were dancin' against the beat." He shook his head as though she was hopeless.

"Actually, I seem to recall you stepping on my toes. My open-toe shoes with your heavy dress shoes, and yes, my left pinkie toe does hurt today. You were leading, so you should have led me better. Besides, I was tipsy."

"Tipsy? You were wasted!" he snorted.

"Shhhhhh!" Angela was mortified when the passengers in the row ahead turned around to look at them. Tony made a rude face at them and they quickly turned back, both blushing.

"Tony!"

"Ah … ah … you smiled! I made you smile," he chanted. "Now, back to this dancing business … Angela, I really do think that you can better. Much, much better." His eyes twinkled as he lobbed the ball back into her court.

"Much better, huh? And how do you suggest that I do 'much better'?"

"Lessons," he stated, his face serious now.

"Lessons?"

"Yes, with me. I bet it'd be a cinch for you to learn On Broadway … now that is some dance."

"What? But that's the dance you did with Betty! Why would you want to teach me that one?"

"Because Angela, that song is mine, not Betty's. And I think it's high time I got myself a new dance partner. Don't you agree?" Tony held his breath in anticipation of her reply, for he could sense that Angela was in a fragile frame of mind. He knew that reassuring her was paramount—their friendship depended upon it.

"I, um, sure," she replied, feeling both touched and self-conscious. "Not much room here though."

"When we get home, Angela. When we get home, I'm gonna dip you and twirl you and spin you 'round the livin' room!" Tony grinned at her and felt the tension leave his shoulders because she was smiling back at him. Equilibrium was being restored and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her, his relief was so great. Instead, he cleared his throat and decided to confront her about her feelings earlier.

"Angela, I've gotta show you somethin'," he said. Tony swallowed hard and took a deep breath before rummaging through his luggage bag. He crammed his hand into the front pocket and dug deep inside until he found them.

"What is it, Tony?" Angela peered over at his bag trying to see what he was looking for.

"Before I show 'em to you, promise me you won't freak out, okay? I'm doin' this to make you feel better, not to embarrass you or nothin'."

"Alright. What is it?" She was definitely intrigued, and a bit apprehensive too.

"Angela, these are the rest of the photos the guys took of us on the dance floor. Na-ah-ah, let me finish!" He put a hand up to silence her, then handed her the pile of photos he'd been holding in the other hand.

"Oh," she whispered. Angela quickly looked through the five photographs, unable to control the blush that bloomed on her face, making her hot and uncomfortable. She could feel Tony's questioning eyes boring into her, but trapped in her airplane seat between him and the window, there was nowhere to hide. All of the pictures were of Tony and herself on the dance floor. She took her time now, looking at them one by one despite the embarrassment of studying them beneath Tony's scrutinizing gaze. In one picture, she and Tony were dancing closely, foreheads pressed together. She couldn't see her face but Tony looked blissful. Angela glanced up at him and noticed that he was rather flushed as well.

"Tony, why …?"

"Because you were blaming yourself. You were being so hard on yourself, saying that you'd thrown yourself at me. And that's not what happened. Yeah you kissed me, but I hardly fought you off, ya know?"

"I can see that." Angela examined another photo, this time of them kissing. It had been taken from the side and it was clear that Tony was a willing participant. His eyes were closed and he was holding her tightly against himself, one hand pressed possessively around her waist and the other on her back. The next photo showed him kissing her jaw, while tenderly cupping her face in his hands. More kisses, more dancing … Tony obviously enjoying himself in all of the photos, and apparently taking the lead with some of those kisses.

"And you were sober?" she squeaked.

"Yeah, I was sober," he admitted ruefully. Tony had debated showing them to her because he'd been afraid of pushing things between them. But her sullen mood and self-flagellation had changed his mind. He wanted her to feel better about herself, even if the tool at hand did cause some awkwardness between them. The entire weekend had been one faux-pas after another anyway … what was one more cringe-worthy moment between them?

"I see." Angela glanced up at him then looked back down at the photos, quite speechless now. Her heart rate was accelerating and her tummy was doing funny flip-flops at the sight of them kissing and holding each other so intimately. They looked like a couple very much in love. 'Well I'm in love with him,' she mused. 'Could Tony be in love with me?' she wondered. "Oh!" she gasped. The mere thought made her tingle all over.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Why did you kiss me back? If you were sober, I mean?" Angela didn't give Tony a chance to respond, and instead answered her own question. "It was for the guys and Betty, wasn't it? You wanted to redeem yourself in their eyes, not come across as a lousy husband."

"That was part of it, yes." Tony took back the photos and put them away. Their presence was beyond distracting. He couldn't get those kisses out of his mind—the feel of her, the taste of her kisses, or the way she'd looked in her black bra and panties after the dinner. She was so perfect, with her gentle curves, long legs and flat belly … he'd wanted her badly that night and he still did. However, he needed to make sure things were status quo between them once more. That was his prerogative … much more important than his libido, he reminded himself for the umpteenth time.

"Oh?"

"Uh, yeah. But I also, uh, well Angela … you already know how much of a pushover I am when an, ahem, attractive woman kisses me," he muttered. Tony looked out the window beyond Angela's head. He simply couldn't make eye contact with her.

She stared at him wide-eyed. "I see. So, first Betty kissed you and you got caught up in it, then when I kissed you, it was the same thing?" Angela asked. She wasn't sure if she ought to feel offended by Tony's comment, or if it was a compliment.

"Angela, can we just say that I wanted to kiss you? I mean you can't deny that there's an attraction between us, 'cause it's there, sparking enough electricity to light a small city."

"Dubuque," she said.

"That's the one." Tony flashed her a crooked smile and inched his face toward hers. "Our friendship is real important to me. I wouldn't want to risk it, Angela. But … but sometimes, we get a Dubuque moment, ya know? I guess what I'm sayin' is that it's okay to have those from time to time. They're gonna happen and, well, since we're best friends, it's okay. Right?"

"Right, Tony." Angela squeezed his hand and leaned in to kiss his cheek, pausing a second longer than necessary so she could inhale the scent of his aftershave. "Thanks for clearing things up."

"You're welcome, Boss."

XXX

The sonorous sensuous song, On Broadway played in their living room. Tony showed Angela how to move her feet, turning her this way and that.

She giggled, "Oh, like this?"

"Yeah, now you're gettin' the hang of it," he said with a smile. He spun her around, their feet moving faster and faster, going in circles.

"Oh my," she said, getting flushed and a bit dizzy. She was safe in his arms but her legs were making moves she didn't know she had.

Tony increased their speed and dipped her, enjoying the feel of her moving rhythmically with him. He could envision other rhythmic movement with her, so he plunged down with her, dipping her, then bringing her back up, then down again, mimicking something else. She let out a throaty "oh, oh" followed by a torrent of giggles. 'Another Dubuque moment,' he thought. He wanted to kiss her throat and would have if the door hadn't opened at that moment. Samantha and Jonathan entered the house and stared at them in confusion.

"Oh yes, I think the plaster in the ceiling is cracked!" Angela shouted. The children looked up and Tony let her go. They glanced at each other and he winked at her. "Dubuque," he whispered, so only she could hear.