It's weird being back in the old neighborhood. I guess it's even weirder that I think of it that way, when I've only been gone a month. But even when I was on the road, it was always home. And now it's not.

Angela is watching the kids tonight. I left a meal for her to reheat. She promised not to bring any work home, and she didn't.

I met her at the station, in her Jag, while Mona minded the kids for a few minutes. Angela and I had enough time to kiss and hug hello and goodbye. Then she got in the driver's seat and drove home, while I got the next train back to New York. Yeah, I could've taken the van, but that's OK. I like taking the subway, and walking around here on foot.

I go see Father Marconi first. After all, if he refuses to perform the show ceremony, I don't know what we'll do. Maybe find a less honest priest? Or get someone who doesn't know about the bigamy at least.

He's in his office, so I knock.

"Come in."
"Father Marconi? I hope I'm not disturbing you."
"Not at all, Anthony. How are things going in Connecticut?" He's smiling. I guess he's heard about my move, although I didn't come see him again before I left.

"Good, good. Oh, um, I've been lying about not being married to Angela."
"I think under the circumstances, you'll be forgiven."
"Good. Um, I'm thinking of sort of marrying her again. I mean so Sam and everyone will know that we're married."

"Is that wise when she's married to the other men?"

"Well, she's definitely divorced from one now. And the other will be done in a couple weeks. Reno."
"Ah, yes. So when you say marrying her again, what do you mean?"

"Once she's free of everybody but me, we'd exchange vows. Unless that's sinful. I mean to lie and pretend we're not really married."

"Anthony, God looks at intentions, too, you know."
"Well, yeah."
"Are you still celibate? I know you're living with her."
"Yeah, we're still celibate. I mean, we kiss and stuff, but yeah." When I was a teenager, sometimes I'd worry I'd go to Hell for second base, but I don't worry about that after all I've been through.

"Your restraint is impressive."

"Yeah, I would've made a great monk. Oh, sorry, Father."
"It's all right, Anthony. So I take it you're not just asking my advice. You're also requesting that I officiate at this wedding."

"Yes, please. If that wouldn't put you in mortal peril."

He chuckles. "I think God will understand. There are worse sins than letting the world know that two good people are committed to each other."

"Gee, thanks!" I lean forward to shake his hand.

"You're welcome."

"It'll be Thanksgiving afternoon or evening. Does that work for you?"

"I'm free most of the day. Now go tell Mrs. Rossini so she can start crying."

I stare at him. "Are you psychic?"

He chuckles. "No, but I know you. You usually spend Thanksgiving at the Rossinis'. You probably want to have the wedding there if they don't mind. And I figured you were having it in Brooklyn, since you want me to perform it, rather than a priest or minister in Fairfield."

"Yeah. OK, I'll be in touch with the details."

"Talk to you soon, Anthony."

So it's the Rossinis' next. I deliberately didn't get a snack on the train, knowing she'd want to feed me, even uninvited.

"Tony, look at you! You're wasting away up there in Connecticut!"
"That doesn't say much for my cooking."

"You're getting too much exercise, that must be it."

"I bet he is," says her teenage son Joe, Jr. to Joe, Sr., who snickers.

I don't tell her that I like to lift furniture when I vacuum and sweep. Yesterday I made the mistake of moving the refrigerator and what do you think I saw? "MICHAEL LOVES ANGELA" painted on the wall! I was surprised he was capable of that romantic a gesture, although of course he had to put it where almost no one could see it. If it were me, I'd carve it someplace where Angela could see it every day. I mean, once I get to the point that I'm in love with her.

"Hey, watch your mouth, Joey! Tony is living with a nice, classy lady and there ain't no hanky-panky!"

I cough. "Um, actually, we're engaged."
"Oh!" She looks startled.

"Ain't this a little soon?" Old Joe asks. "Marie's been dead, what, seven or eight months?"

"Yeah, I know. But I want to marry this lady."

Mrs. Rossini looks torn between loyalty to Marie and delight in a wedding. The delight wins out. "Married! So are we all invited?"

"Uh, yeah, actually, um, if it won't mess up your Thanksgiving plans, could we have it here?"

"Here? In Brooklyn? In this apartment? On Thanksgiving?" asks Joe, Sr.

"Uh, yeah, if that's not too crazy—"

"What are you kiddin'?" Mrs. Rossini shrieks. "I love it! Uh, I don't have to serve all the guests, do I?"

"No, no. Just my family and Angela's. Our immediate families I mean."

"You're gettin' married!" She comes over and pinches my cheeks. "You're gonna make such a handsome groom."
"Thanks."

"Hey, wait a minute," Joe, Sr. says, and I wish he'd shut up. "This lady ain't Italian, is she? Or even Catholic?"

"Well, no, but we are having a Catholic ceremony."

"As long as they raise the children Catholic, it's OK," Old Joe chimes in.

I decide not to say that Angela and I haven't even decided whether we'll have kids, let alone what religion they'd be.

After dinner, I excuse myself since I've got to go talk to my groomsmen. I wasn't even planning to have any, but then Angela told me how Wendy wants to be her matron of honor. So I gave Bobby G. a call and he'll be my best man. Now I've got to go talk to Philly and Tiny. Normally, I'd consider asking some of my teammates, but I can't because Davey and Mike think I'm already married to Angela, which I am, but you know what I mean.

I hope the guys aren't at Marty's. I don't feel like dealing with Theresa again. For all I know, she'd want to be a bridesmaid. Can you imagine that if all my ex-girlfriends wanted to be bridesmaids? Angela doesn't know very many single women, although she's thinking of inviting her only cousin, who's 21 and has had one date in her life. ("She makes me look like Mother in comparison," Angela said when explaining Christy's shyness.)

I decide to try the bowling alley first. I find Dennis and his girlfriend Ginger. I end up inviting them, her as a guest, but him as a groomsman. Then Philly and Tiny come in and Dennis tells them before I can. The guys tease me about rushing into marriage, especially to the uptight WASP businesswoman, but they seem happy. Happy enough to order a round of beers.

They want to give me a bachelor party, but I talk them out of it. They already gave me one when I got married the first time. And I don't think Angela would approve. I mean, not that I need her approval, but there's no point in pissing her off.

Dennis waits till Ginger goes home before asking, "So what's goin' on, Micelli? You knock her up?"

"Who?" For a moment, I think he means Ginger, who I've never even kissed.

"Your Connecticut broad," Philly says.

"No, no, we haven't even, um."

"What are you waiting for, Tony?" Tiny asks. "If you like her enough to marry her, why don't you just do her?"

"Yeah, she ain't a virgin, right?" Philly asks.

"Uh, no, she's been married before."

"Well?" they all ask.

"Listen, Guys, you know me. If that was all I was after, I could get it from almost any woman. But we're getting married on Thanksgiving, so it's not like we're waiting that long."
"Is that why you're rushing into it? Why not just jump her and then get married later?" Philly asks.

"Or not at all," says Tiny, who was actually the first of us to get married. (His son Elvis is a year older than Sam.) He was also the first to be single again, since his good Catholic wife decided that divorce was a sacrament in this case.

"You know, I can kind of see waiting till marriage. There are times I wish I'd waited with Ginger."
"Yeah, like when her curse is late," Philly teases.

They had a pregnancy scare this past summer. I didn't get the details since I was on the road, but they were talking marriage, until her period came. At least if that happened with Angela, well, we'd already be married anyway.

"Well, me and Ginger will get married eventually, but no hurry."

"Unlike Tony, am I right?" Tiny says, poking me in the ribs.

"So let me see if I got this," Philly says. "You're not with anyone. Not her, not any other chick."

"Right."

"How long have you gone without it?" Dennis asks.

I do the math quickly. "Um, six weeks." Since the last time with Betty.

"That's not that long," Tiny says.

"We're not talking about you," Philly says. "For Tony, that's like a record."

I don't tell them it's not. All the months Marie was sick, I didn't even want to think about sex. My wife was dying and I never wanted to be with anyone again. But as soon as she died and Betty scooped me in, well, it was a way of proving I was alive. The guilt ate at me but I did my best to ignore it.

"And she's been married before?" Dennis says. "So how long for her?"

Let's see, she was on her own for six weeks in Reno. And I guess at least a week before that, back home. Thirteen weeks total? "About three months."

"Yeah, but uptight Connecticut WASPs, especially if they're businesswomen, they can go like years without it. They sort of dry up inside."

I want to punch Philly. I want to tell him that Angela is incredibly passionate and I can't wait to really awaken her in bed. But I can't talk about the times we've made out, especially not the frottage.

I say, "I'm not worried."

"Yeah, she just needs an Italian husband," Tiny says.

And we all toast to that.