"I can't believe you, Tony."

"What?"

"That girl at the bar was all over you and nothing! You blind or something?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. She was pretty."

"And you're not interested?"

He shook his head.

Making the final turn onto the campus, Ned said, "You gotta get over Angela one of these days."

Defensively, Tony replied, "It's only been six weeks!"

"And it's clear she isn't coming back. Have you heard from her at all?"

Again, he shook his head.

"You either gotta call her or move on. You can't keep wasting every night with me."

"Hey, she was everything to me. You don't just get over that in a weekend and with a few beers. I didn't just lose my girlfriend or fiancé, but my best friend, too. And every time I talk to my daughter, I know all I have to do is ask and she'll tell me how she is. She still gets to see her every day. But I can't ask. I can't let her know how much I think about her."

"Why not?"

Tony shrugged. "It's too complicated."

"She probably misses you, too."

"Maybe…"

Tony leaned back against the car seat and crossed his arms. Ned was right, and if Angela were any other woman, he might have asked for that woman's phone number. He hadn't felt this kind of loss since Marie had died. At least with Marie, he felt she was still with him. To this day, she never left his side. Angela was gone and living her own life without him. She was out of reach, and soon enough, she'd meet someone else to take his place.

For once, he was glad to be home. Ned wasn't the first one getting on his back about this, but he was the most insistent. Candy spent a lot of time lecturing him, telling him life is too short to feel sorry for yourself. While he agreed with the sentiment, he felt it wasn't a fair attack. He had his moments, sure, but when he was in class, he was Professor Micelli. On the field, Coach Micelli. It was moments alone he let himself feel bad.

His not dating had nothing to do with self-pity.

He checked his messages as he got in. One from Sam checking in and one from Dr. Graham about the upcoming staff picnic. He sorted through his mail as he half-listened, but his attention quickly turned to the machine when he heard Mona's voice.

Hey Tone, just me. I thought I would call and see how you're doing. I miss you, ya big lug! Everyone is doing fine, of course, Angela has seen better days. Ever think about calling her? There's no reason you two have to pretend the other doesn't exist. Then again, you've both been impossible from the start. Call me some time at least, yeah? I'm sure Jonathan would love to hear from you, too.

Stopping the machine, Tony let out a mix of a sigh and a grumble. He knew Mona well enough to know if she was making a request on Angela's behalf, it was likely the opposite of what Angela wanted. He wished it had been Angela reaching out. He'd give anything just to chat with her like old times. If only it were that simple. She didn't like to be pushed. After the proposal disaster, he learned to give her space when she needed it. Especially if he wanted to hold onto some shred of hope that someday they might make things work after all.

Was it crazy? Ned made a good point earlier. If she had an interest in working things out, she should have said so by now. Mullers have to stop mulling eventually. Something more than his long-distance career had to have driven her away. Narrowing it down any which way, all points ended with him. He'd done something, but what? Had he changed too much? Had she changed? The questions were enough to take Mona up on her plea, but even in desperation, he knew better.

Picking up the remote control, Tony turned on the TV to stop himself from falling down another Angela-centered rabbit hole. He'd been up half the night before because of her. He didn't have another sluggish day in him even if it was the weekend. He flipped through the channels, feeling as though he was staring through the tube as his thoughts inevitably continued.

He missed having her around. He missed squabbling with her when she told him to settle on a program before he gave her a headache. He missed surprising her with a mug of hot chocolate or a glass of wine. He missed showing off by throwing popcorn in the air and catching it with his mouth. He missed the dead weight against his shoulder or chest when she fell asleep before the end of the show or movie. Heck, he even missed this nest of afghans surrounding them. It was hell getting by without her when they commuted back and forth. Now it was permanent, and the longing for her only intensified as time went on. At what point would he accept that this seclusion was here to stay?

He had a new understanding as of late for Angela's decline. The evenings he faced alone were what she faced every day with no promise of the next day being different. He could bear a few hours before going to bed. He had paperwork to do most school nights or coaching responsibilities. For a workaholic like Angela, she had to have been in her own personal hell. And he'd known that on some level.

It was a vicious circle.

Why did she leave?

What did I do?

Was it really so bad?

Why did she pretend she was happy?

I knew she was lying.

The writing was on the wall.

She wouldn't have moved if she'd known it wasn't temporary.

Did she not love me enough?

She said she resented me.

I neglected her.

She could have talked to me.

We could have fixed things.

A compromise was out there.

Why did she leave…

The constant questions were maddening, especially with no one but himself to answer them.

Thinking back on Mona's message, he wondered if she would talk to him. At least he could gauge where Angela was with all this. If she was happy (or happier), he'd at least know whatever damage was done wasn't irreversible. If she was depressed, maybe it would give him the courage to reach out. If she had moved on, jealousy would push him to get on with his life as well. But this was Mona. He couldn't trust her not to put Angela unwittingly on the line and catch her off guard. They'd at least ended things amicably. There was no need to start a fire this far into their separation.

Another circle of thoughts.

He'd settled on a weather report at some point during his preoccupation. It was over now and it moved on to the nightly news. He started channel hopping again, focusing more this time now that he'd allowed his mind to run its course. Still, nothing caught his eye. He was about ready to call it a night when he landed on a movie channel planning none other than The Way We Were.

"Funny," he said, his eyes cast upward.

He stared mesmerized for a minute or two but turned it off soon after. It didn't take much to remind him of Angela. He'd learned how to brush it off, but this was too much. There was a fine line between being strong and being foolish. He tossed the clicker aside and bit his lip as he stood from the couch.

At least fending off his emotions helped to exhaust him. Maybe he'd be able to fall right to sleep tonight.