Summary: Angela can no longer pretend nothing happened in Jamaica.

I tried so hard not to think too much about it. I tried not to analyze it and pick apart every intonation, every hidden meaning and motivation, as I did with our first date, and even the trip to St. Louis. I wanted so badly to accept it at face value and move on and just let things develop in their own time.

But I can't. It's been mercilessly eating at me, fueled by more recent events that have left me no choice but to purge my mind and heart of the thoughts, hopes, and fears that have been mounting since that unforgettable night under starlit Jamaican sky.

Tony has thought about marrying me. Tony has thought ABOUT me. Not as a boss. Not as a friend. But as something else. Something more. Something I can't even put words to. He has thought about my place in his life, in his future. He has feelings for me. Deep feelings. Deep enough to think about a life together. Deep enough to think of us as a couple, dating, living together, really living together. Even married. Maybe those feelings equal my own. Maybe he loves me. Maybe.

I came so close that night, so close to telling him how much I love him, and for how long I've kept those feelings secret, even from myself. It started so impulsively, so unpredictably, the deluge of emotion, pent up for how long. I was mad – at Tony, at myself. But I wanted him with me, and was too proud to back down when things didn't go as I'd hoped. Despite my cavalier attitude, I had dreamed of laying with him on the beach, splashing around in the surf, sipping margaritas, and dancing by moonlight in the sand. And maybe, just maybe, feeling him take me in his arms, the foamy water kissing our ankles, even as we kissed, with no fear, no embarrassment, no hesitancy.

But instead, I got caught up in the excitement, the allure of the moment, a moment without Tony. I was wild and free, a Caribbean mermaid – but without a prince. And just as I was getting ready to excuse myself to seek him out, I was swept away – literally – disoriented in the dark water, and unable to feel sand beneath my feet. And I was so scared, trying to stay afloat but feeling the undertow pulling my legs in the wrong direction. As my head bobbed beneath the surface, fatigue sending me to the dangerous brink of consciousness, my thoughts were of Tony. His smile, his laugh, his eyes. The sound of his voice when he says my name, the feel of his arms around me. And I felt regret that I had never told him exactly what he means to me. That I'd never told him I love him.

And then I was on the beach, strong arms around my waist, arms I prayed were his – the first of many disappointments to come. But then Tony was there, kneeling beside me, and I wanted so badly to go into his embrace, but the people, the voices, the questions were so overwhelming. And then the truth came out, a truth Tony did react well to. Yes, I was skinny dipping, all the while hoping my new-found courage would carry over into the evening I envisioned with him. But lingering fright from nearly drowning, disappointment that Tony was upset at me, and embarrassment that everything was taking place in front of thirty people caused me to respond poorly and let my anger send him storming away at a time when I wanted him close.

And then in an instant, all the anger and pain was forgotten, and all that mattered was that we were together. Tony and I spoke honestly for the first time in a long time. It bothered him that I seemed to be having such a good time without him, which I really wasn't. And the truth came tumbling out of my mouth seemingly of its own accord, some part of me refusing to permit the all-too predictable onset of self-conscious restraint. The best times of my life ARE with Tony. He came to me at a time of such transition, in my personal life and professional. He's helped me raise my son. He supported me through my job loss and identity crisis, and was my rock as I built myself back up. He held me close when I wasn't strong enough to stand on my own, and taught me to trust and love even when I thought I never would again.

And in the moments that followed that single solemn admission, I was lost in him. Five years worth of passion, waiting, friendship, and so much more just poured out of me, and I had no control over it. Nor did I want control. He felt so good, so solid and warm. Our moments of such abandon have been few, but somehow I knew it could be like that between us. And I wanted to take it even further. I was ready. It was the right time for me. But not for Tony. He needs time. For himself. For us. He needs time to think and plan his future. And looking back, I feel almost honored to know I mean enough to him that he would take such time and care to be certain that we're ready and able to hold on to all we've built and to take it all with us as we take the next step.

And so I will wait. I will wait for him to find his path in life. I will wait for him to be ready to acknowledge the feelings I so carefully believe he has for me. And I will wait to finish what was finally started on that beach. Because I believe it's coming. I finally believe there will be a time for us, and I finally believe my feelings are not unrequited, only quietly waiting for the right time to emerge.

This tension and emotion was more firmly enforced just recently as I let the simple but obviously blissful marriage of two of Tony's friends invade my dreams, recasting Tony and me in the roles of husband and wife. And it was so real. I woke up on Mrs. Rossini's couch still feeling the love he had for me and the security of our "marriage." But also the fear of his expectations. And it warmed my heart later when our conversation on the fire escape revealed his open mind about any roles we might hold. And I should have known he wouldn't mind bending tradition a bit – after all, he's been doing it for over five years now.

And then just the other night, we sat on the couch reading the provocative words of D.H. Lawrence, a writer so controversial that his books were repeatedly banned throughout the country during the 19th century. And a hundred years later, his imagery had Tony and me clinging precariously to the fragile threads of our self-control. The words drew us together like magnets, easing us into the warm folds of passion. I never thought the Dr. Seuss book Tony jokingly said we might need to "cool off" would prove to be quite so necessary!

So now, I believe we've settled into a comfortable, unspoken agreement. We will wait and see. We will take things slowly, very slowly, making sure the ground is firm before taking each new step. And Tony will focus on his goals while I prepare myself once again for a shared existence, a bonded relationship that I want very badly, but still might not be as ready to commit to as I felt when under the influence of a moon-drenched night on the beach. I was not lying when I said I was unprepared to accept a proposal. But I hope that one day, those fears and insecurities will be cast into the shadows of the love and promise of a life with Tony. Because I also wasn't lying when I said I don't care if he mows lawn in Central Park. I'll be here. Waiting. Waiting for Tony. Waiting for us.