Chapter 5

The band returned from its break and the first bars of "I Could Write a Book" filled the thick silence between them. He seized the moment, standing and nervously adjusting his tie as he offered her his hand. "Angela, I think we should continue this discussion on the dance floor."

Surprised, she slowly took his hand. He escorted her to the small dance area and deftly spun her into a dance; that wasn't the answer she had expected, but she never passed up an opportunity to dance with Tony.

"This is a Sinatra song. Whoever this guy is is really good. Harry something? Connick?" Tony remarked.

"He is," she said quietly, a little perturbed by his clear avoidance.

"Angela...you know I would never want to do anything to hurt you," he started carefully. He needed her to know this first.

"I know that, Tony. But I also know that this is a wonderful opportunity for you, and for Samantha. It could take your whole life in a different direction. You can give her things with this job that you never could on your salary with me. Even if you are the best paid housekeeper in Fairfield," she smiled.

"But that's just it, Ange. Maybe I don't want my life to go in a different direction. Because I'm not just your housekeeper. And we both know it."

"No, you aren't. You are my best friend. You're family."

"If we're a...family, you and I are partners, a team. And that's why I would never make a decision like this without your input," he said solemnly, spinning her in a new direction.

"And I appreciate that more than you know, Tony. I just don't know how we proceed from here."

He pulled her close. "Hey, we got this Ange. We'll figure it out together."

If they asked me

I could write a book

About the way you walk and whisper and look

I could write a preface on how we met

So the world would never forget

Tony was singing softly in her ear. She could feel herself melting into the moment, his arms, the lyrics, his effortless, masterful dancing, the dim lighting, this special place he had only ever been with his one true love. He had wanted to return here with her. Her heart swelled with an indescribable mix of elation, uncertainty. Fear. Hope.

And the simple secret of the plot

Is just to tell them

That I love you a lot

The obvious parallel of the lyrics gave her the opening to say, "Tony, you not working for me removes a lot of...barriers for us, if we ever…" she trailed off as their eyes met,

Then the world discovers

As my book ends

How to make two lovers of friends

"Yes, it does," he replied simply.

"But if we did, or if we didn't, either way, it complicates our living situation significantly," she ventured carefully. "Because we can't really...with the kids…"

They were wading into murky waters – that place they had only gone fleetingly over the years, usually for mere seconds before the moment passed and they resumed their professional facades: in the kitchen, where they shared an inebriated moment of passion; at Kissing Rock, and thereafter stranded in the cabin, when they mightily resisted the magnetic pull between them and acknowledged things between them could probably be good between them...the way they aren't; on their anniversary night, when Tony lustfully suggested they discuss their relationship by the fireplace, and then again at the hospital, when he professed his love from the brink of anesthetic unconsciousness. At the wedding, when they shared an unspoken understanding that they were maybe, possibly, heading toward a future together one day.

Yet in this moment, he didn't have the new job, he just had the possibility of one. She was still his boss; nothing about their circumstances had changed. If they did ever become romantically involved, could he truly handle being her employee at the same time?

And what about Angela? He knew they both felt the connection between them, as co-parents, partners, and certainly a flirtatious attraction. But did she - could she really feel more? About him? Her housekeeper? Did she see a real future with him, or just the security and ease of a built-in companion, protective of the strong family unit they had created? She wasn't a snob, that he knew for certain. No, he knew deep down that she loved him, on some level at least, as much as he loved her. And maybe that was enough to say what he needed to say next. He led her back to the booth, where their dinner awaited them.

"Angela, I'm ashamed to admit this, but I - I honestly hadn't thought this all the way through. On some level I guess I had; I knew I'd still be in Fairfield, and assumed we'd still be living together. For whatever reason, I...assumed we would always live together," he admitted. "And I guess I was thinking, if I were mostly in D.C. at first, maybe it would be ok to come back and visit since Sam is still staying there. But I would also need help with Sam in the beginning, if I were commuting to D.C. more frequently, and I figured she's older now and we could tag team that like we always have. But you're right, you wouldn't be my boss anymore. And I shouldn't have assumed any of that."

"Of course you should have, Tony! I want the best for Sam too, and want nothing more than to keep her exactly where she is. I'm glad you assumed that. I mean gosh, we've assigned each other as guardians for our children in our wills. Of course I want to keep her with me. And no one can hold a candle to what you do for us, but we can find some subpar help to cover you. Perhaps Mother," she joked.

"But then when I move back?"

Then she said, thinking aloud, "Well I suppose you could move back into Mother's apartment, and Sam could stay in the house?"

"Yeah, that's not bad, not bad, but then what? Is that just delaying the inevitable? I can't move into a garage apartment without Sam forever. And honestly I know I won't be happy doin' that - we already tried that, remember? We were both miserable living apart. And I mean Angela, I can't believe I'm only just realizing this, but if I don't have a job with you, even if we...or maybe especially if we…" neither of them could vocalize the words, "Angela, if I don't work for you, I don't think we can live together until we're married."

Instant shock washed over his face – and hers – as the words escaped his mouth and betrayed his heart.

"Un...Until?"

"Uh, no, I don't mean until, I mean unless."

"Unless?!" she repeated.

He stared at her in shock, and swallowed hard, admitting, "Maybe...the thought crossed my mind."

She stared at him, gobsmacked and secretly delighted. "You've thought about us getting married?"

"Maybe...the thought crossed my mind." Her face was covered in shock, with the exception of a tiny, encouraging smile. "I mean, Angela, we live together. We are practically married already. We begin and end every day together. It would be almost crazy not to ever think about it." He stopped suddenly. "Do you mean to tell me you've never thought about it?"

The question took her by surprise and she struggled to respond truthfully. "No, no of course - of course I have, on some level," they had never been this honest with each other before. "It's just...there's so many obstacles and so much at stake. I don't know how we would get there, so it's hard to let my mind wander there for very long." She hoped that was a satisfactory answer; there was so much more she felt but couldn't yet say.

Tony continued, heartened, "That's exactly what I said to Sam."

"Sam thinks we should get married?"

"Uh, well, yeah. She hoped we would, some day. She said we aren't even trying to see other people. She's also the one who pointed out we are practically married by almost every definition of the word."

"She isn't wrong."

"I've been thinking about what she said all day. I mean, we've never known how to define "us" because "us" is so complicated. It's so complicated we never talk about it. But it's there," he said. "You know and I know there's an "us," Angela. It's not a romantic us, per se, but it's an ice cream at midnight in the kitchen "us." It's a person I make every parenting decision with "us." It's an, I'd rather stay in and watch old Cary Grant movies with you than go on a blind date with some stranger "us." And if I'm being really honest, or maybe it's already pretty clear, I can't imagine my life without you in it. And I'm truly not willing to make a permanent move to Washington to find out. But even if I think there's an "us" – in the more traditional sense – I don't really know what the future holds. I'm your housekeeper, Angela."

He glanced down, for the first time in the evening feeling a little embarrassed. He avoided her understanding gaze, peering back up at her under his eyebrows. "Remember? 'What's funnier than that?'" he winced as he remembered Fred and Ginger's biting words at Isabelle's wedding, and their heated discussion afterward.

"Hey," she said gently, "You know I don't care about that. You know I don't see you that way."

"But I care. I don't have anything to offer a woman like you. That's why I've actually been thinking about going to college if this doesn't work out."

"You've been thinking about going to college? For me?"

"Well, sort of. Not completely for you, but that's part of it. I guess I know there's more I could be doing with my life, but college felt like something I could do without imploding our family." He added, "Like we're trying to avoid doing now."

"Tony...I...I don't know what to say," she stammered. "Of course - I can't imagine my life without you in it either. It's my greatest fear, losing you and Sam. It would be devastating to all of us," she looked away, summoning rational thought and pushing back the tears that were springing to her eyes. "I want you to be fulfilled though. And I would never want to start a relationship with you if you didn't feel on equal footing with me. That has really been a bigger barrier for us, hasn't it? It isn't maintaining the professional relationship...it's that everything could change, the way we see each other could change. And then we would lose it all."

"I think that's probably right. But know this. You're the one who made me believe I could do something - have a real career. Where I come from, a job is how you make ends meet. What you do doesn't define who you are. And for a short little while, my baseball career was my whole life - my dream, my one shot. But when that dream died, and it was just me and Sam, *she* became my life. From that point on, I didn't know if I would be a garbage man or working behind the fish counter or what for the rest of my days. But I was back to the old life again. There's no way out for a guy like me - there's no time to change course, go back to school, find a passion. You do that, you're out on the streets. You make ends meet, get home to your family. So that's what I was doin' when I met Mona."

Angela smiled warmly, and Tony continued. "And from that point on, I was so much happier. Almost from the very beginning, Sam and I instantly felt like we had a real home and a real family. And what's better than making ends meet while being there for your family? At least, for a guy like me, that's everything; I don't care if people see my job as woman's work. I work hard, you and I know that. That's all that matters to me."

"I needed someone who made me not feel guilty about leaving my son every day to pursue that, but also you gave me more reason to want to be home. You taught me that it's the moments between the job, the people you're with. I think that's why we work. We balance each other, Tony."

"But I think deep down, to feel worthy of a woman like you, I'd need a different path. It's not just because I work for you."

As he leaned in close to her ear, his lips grazed her cheek, "And let me make this clear, I want to be worthy of you." he whispered. His gravelly voice sent a chill down her spine.

She thought her heart might burst. Surely he could hear it. The wave of emotion was so complex - longing, desire, fear, uncertainty, confusion. She wanted this so badly, but was the timing right? Finally? She brushed her lips against his cheek and summoned the courage to purr back, "Maybe that's true. But I wouldn't care if you mowed lawns in Central Park. Actually I think I'd quite enjoy watching you do that - shirt optional."

She pulled back, her lips twitching triumphant satisfaction from her tease. He was deliciously, uncomfortably, aroused. But his eyes danced.

"And as for what you offer a woman like me, I'm surprised you don't know, Tony. You are the person I call from work when I land a big client. The person I watch old movies with and go dancing with; the person I cry into my ice cream with after a bad day. The person who cheers me on in my career. The person I raise my son with. And not just because you're there. You're my best friend, and the most caring, intelligent, remarkable man I know. A man couldn't give me more. I owe everything to you, Tony. My business, my child, hell you've even whipped Mother into shape."

He smiled, his eyes still locked in a careful dance with hers. "No easy task, that one."

She laughed. "No, she isn't."

Their dinner arrived, and they turned their attention to welcome distractions – eating, drinking, and dancing. The intimacy of the setting, and being away from their usual reasons to maintain their carefully erected boundaries, had allowed them to open up to one another in a way that was both refreshing and terrifying to them both. The heaviness of their conversation turned back to lighthearted discussions about the kids, other jazz clubs in Manhattan, that time Tony's father saw Frank Sinatra on the street from afar. Angela had heard the story before but never tired of hearing Tony tell it in his animated way. "Fly Me to the Moon" came on and he pulled her up onto the dance floor.

"This is one of my very favorites. I'll never tire of it."

"Mine too, Angela."

Angela gathered her thoughts again. "Tony, you may not be some slick Wall Street big shot like that Rick guy, but a career is not the measure of a man. I feel unworthy of you, too. You're charismatic, charming, confident; you're...seasoned. Women fall all over themselves around you. Why would you be interested in some boring workaholic WASP from Connecticut?"

"Are you kiddin' me Angela? I've never met anyone like you. You're so far out of the league of anyone I've ever dated...besides Marie, of course."

"Of course," she said.

"You're beautiful, and brilliant. You love Sinatra, and old movies. My daughter. And," he gestured with their joined hands, "dancing. And we may not be from the same background, but we're proof you can be from two totally different worlds and still see the world the same way."

Her eyes sparkled as he continued, "We may not make sense on paper, but I think we do make sense. Opposites attract. And, not for nuthin, but I'm starting to think maybe your mother was right."

She looked at him, jerked somewhat out of her dreamy reverie. "Mother? What in the world could she be right about?"

"Maybe there is some divine force pulling us together," he smiled. No, she was positive this was a dream.

She looked up at him and blushed as he cupped her face, ran his fingers into her hair, and as if in slow motion, leaned in for a tender kiss. "And also, you're wrong. I *could* give you more," he stated hungrily, peppering her lips with kisses.

"This is getting more complicated by the second," she said between kisses, "I'm not sure we've settled anything tonight."

"I'm willing to keep working on it," he breathed. She ran her fingers through his hair and he kissed her more forcefully. The ambiance, the drinks, the dancing, their sheer brutal honesty had become an irresistible force, and suddenly they were hopelessly engaged in one another's kisses, hardly mindful of the public setting.

She came up for air as a realization hit her. "Tony," she gasped, laying a hand on his chest, "I just realized, it's a quarter to eleven…we'll never catch the last train."

He pulled away from her with a new air of confidence, leading them back to the table. "Hmm, you're right. Stuck in this hotel with no way home. What should we do?" He cocked an eyebrow suggestively and perched his arm over the booth. "What would your mother do?" His eyes twinkled.

She said nothing, her nerves completely overwhelming her. She knew what he was suggesting. Instead she demurely turned to snuggle against his chest and face the pianist who had just begun "It had to be you," laying her hand on his thigh. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and he whispered into her ear. "Let's stay here tonight."

She turned around to face him, uncertainty and longing going to battle in her thoughts. "Tony, we –

He put a finger to her lips. "We have a lot to talk about. And tomorrow is Saturday. And *we* don't have to do anything we don't want to do. This is us, remember? We've got tonight. Let's take it."