Angela came down the steps, crossed the living room, and paused before entering the swinging door to the kitchen. She had known all morning this moment would come, and she suddenly realized she didn't know what she would say when she entered the kitchen and finally come face to face to Tony. She was dressed in a confidence-inspiring navy and cream pants suit that showed off her height and bespoke authority. Her hair was down, with blond waves falling around her shoulder. She was the epitome of a composed, professional woman – until she stepped up to the door that would put her in the same room with him – alone – for the first time since their talk in the study the evening before.
Samantha and Jonathan had already left for school, and since her coffee with Peter the night before had turned into a very productive brainstorming session (nothing like work to take her mind off everything), she and Peter had decided to meet with John for lunch, leaving Angela the rare luxury of a late workday. Looking back, she couldn't help but wonder if it wouldn't have been better to have left with the kids. With the chaos they brought to the morning, there would have been no chance to talk to Tony. And she wouldn't even let herself consider that she had deliberately lingered in the shower, tempting fate to leave them alone in the vain hope that their discussion the night before would be revisited. She just wanted to forget the whole thing.
Then why was she standing with her hand on the door, too afraid to push through it? She could hear him moving around on the other side, presumably putting the breakfast dishes away. Any minute, he could walk through the door, on his way to see what was keeping her. Was he feeling apprehensive about facing her? Is that why he didn't pound on her door at 6 a.m. like he normally did? Is that why he hadn't hollered up the steps wondering why it was a quarter to nine and she still hadn't shown her face?
She couldn't really say she was mad at him. After all, she really had no right to be. But she would rather be mad than admit what the heaviness in her heart might mean. She felt betrayed, by her best friend, by the man she would rather have in her life than anyone. What had Tony found in Kathleen that he couldn't find in her? He hadn't exactly come to her seeking to change the status of their relationship. He hadn't voiced his feelings any more clearly that she had. She said it herself last night: Their relationship had always been their relationship. But now, what future did that relationship have? Learning he had been with another woman had nearly brought her to her knees. If Tony found someone he wanted to be with more than her, she didn't think she'd be able to carry on as if there had been nothing but platonic friendship between them. Was that something she could allow to happen? Was it something she had any power to stop?
She was certain he knew as well as she did that there was more between them than employer-employee, or even best friends. And that's what hurt the most. He knew there were deeper feeling involved, and still he had ...
Defensively, she pushed the thought from her mind and stepped purposefully into the kitchen – and caught her breath when she saw him standing at the sink using the faucet hose to water the plants. His jeans and sweatshirt were no different than the clothes he had on every morning, but the way they clung to him as he stretched over the counter caused her heart rate to accelerate ever so slightly. No one had ever made her feel this way. Just seeing him made emotions – not all of them bad – rush through her. Recovering from the blow to her midsection before Tony turned around, she said in a voice that sounded strained even to her ears, "Good morning, Tony."
"Ah, g'mornin' Angela," he said nervously, and immediately averted his eyes from hers back to the task at hand. Over his shoulder, mind racing to say something normal sounding, he continued, "Late start this morning? Not surprised since you got in so late last night," and then mentally kicked himself for admitting he had stayed awake until she got home – at two in the morning – and for reminding both of them that life hadn't started this morning, as they were both trying to pretend, and that what had happened yesterday was a reality.
"Yes, I was home late, but I don't have any morning appointments, so Mother can handle the office for a few hours. She did go in this morning, right?" Angela said, dryly knowing Mona's unpredictable ways.
"Yeah, yeah. She wasn't too happy about leaving by herself, but I told her you probably had a busy nigh ... ah, what I mean is ... you and Peter were probably ... ah," Tony searched desperately for any words to help get his feet out of his mouth, and finally sputtered, "I just thought you'd want to sleep in."
Faces flushed with embarrassment, Angela turned her attention to searching the refrigerator for the orange juice while Tony furiously dried every drop of water from a glass.
"Uh, Tony," How was she going to correct his mistaken belief about why she had come home so late. "Peter and I ..."
"That's okay, Angela, you don't owe me any explanation."
"No, Tony, that's just it. There's nothing to explain. We drank coffee, started talking about work, came up with some really great ideas, and then I came home."
"Oh, well, okay then," Tony said as he kept his relief from showing, then realized he didn't want to sound like he was accepting an apology. So, he continued quickly, "Not that you couldn't have, if you wanted to, I mean, he's a nice guy, and you said we should see other people," he knew he was rambling, but couldn't stop himself. "So, I just want you to know that if you, you know, want to see other people, then you should, you know, see other people."
Liar, he said to himself.
Again, they turned their attention to anything other than each other. When the phone rang a minute later, they both jumped before Tony grabbed the handset.
"Hello ... yeah, she's here, just a sec." Then, covering the mouthpiece, "It's Peter."
"I'll, ah, take it in the study," Angela said softly before practically sprinting from the kitchen. When she picked up the phone, Tony replaced the receiver and collapsed in the same chair Angela had just vacated.
What had he done? And why did he feel so bad about it? He and Angela weren't a couple. He was free to see and date and ... see ... whoever he wanted. Then why did he feel like he had killed his best friend? Maybe because his best friend looked like she had a dagger in her back that she couldn't quite extract.
Who was he trying to kid. He knew the minute he left that hotel room yesterday morning that what he'd done with Kathleen was wrong. What he couldn't answer was why he'd done it. Yes, she was pretty, smart, confidant. But she was hardly the only woman with those qualities he'd gone out with. Heck, Angela had those qualities – and more – in spades, and he'd never done that with her.
Uh-oh.
Was he pre-emptively sabotaging any future they might have for fear of failure? Was he trying to convince himself that his feelings for her were completely platonic?
But why would he have to convince himself of that? They knew they had feelings for each other. And even if those feelings were unexpressed, Tony knew how he felt about Angela. He felt ... he felt ... well, he knew, and that's all that mattered.
But obviously, that wasn't all that mattered. Just when he and Angela had begun to step away from the strict boundaries of their relationship, he had gone and hurt the one person who meant more to him than anyone. Last night, while sitting on the couch after she left with Peter, Tony realized that losing Angela would devastate him. She was his best friend, the only person since Marie he trusted with his life, and his daughter's. She was the most wonderful person he knew, so kind and compassionate, even if she was a bit uptight sometimes. But that's what made her so perfectly Angela. She was smart, educated, successful, everything he wasn't. But that never seemed to matter to her. She asked his opinion and advice – and often heeded it. She talked to him, laughed with him, shared her life with him. And what did he do, found companionship with a woman he barely knew. Everything he was searching for with Kathleen was standing right in front of him, and he was too scared to reach out to it – to her.
How many times had he and Angela stopped themselves from acting on and expressing their feelings. And for what? To preserve a friendship? Well, if there's one thing Tony learned with Kathleen, it's that there is no way he can keep his friendship with Angela and be romantically involved with someone else. It wouldn't be fair to anyone. And how would he feel if his and Angela's roles were reversed? Just thinking about it made his blood boil, and he finally, fully, understood what Angela must be feeling as a fresh wave a regret washed over him. So now his options were clear: He could stay just best friends with Angela and sacrifice romance and intimacy, or ...
"Tony?" Angela's voice calling him from the living room could have been a cannon exploding as it shocked him out of his thoughts. He jumped up so fast the chair tipped over, and his elbow knocked over a juice glass, which shattered on the floor. How long had he been sitting there? Five minutes, ten, thirty?
Angela rushed into the kitchen. "What happened? Tony, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Clumsy me, just dropped a glass." Tony said, trying not to let his voice shake. He went to the cupboard under the sink for the dustpan, unable to face Angela, as he feared his recent thoughts had suddenly appeared across his forehead.
"Oh, are you sure everything's all right ..."
"Yeah," Tony said, turning to face her. She was looking at him from the other side of the pool of glass, and ignoring her would be too obvious. "Everything's fine," he said, bending to sweep up the glass slivers. "Watch your step, you don't want to carry glass into the other room."
Say something, Tony said to himself. Don't let her leave, not when there's so much you want to tell her.
But before he could muster the courage, Angela said, "Well, I guess I'd better head to work, then. I'll see you tonight, Tony."
She took a cautious step away, waited a beat, then walked back into the living room. Tony didn't lift his head from his task of picking up shards of glass, which could very well have been the remains of their shattered hearts, until he heard the faint click of the front door closing.
