Tony sat up in bed, reading by lamplight. He couldn't focus on his book, and it was taking everything to keep from creeping back downstairs to check on Angela. They might not be together-together, but he didn't trust Matteo, and as her friend, he did feel protective toward her.

The door creaked open and Angela's head popped around the opening.

"Hi," she said quietly, entering the room. "I thought you might be asleep. That took longer than I thought."

"Hi. No, I was, ah, waiting for you. Everything go okay?"

"Well, yes, as a matter of fact. I think I may have landed a new account," she said crisply. "One with a potential upside in the tens of millions." Her tone changed and she choked out a somber, "I'm sorry."

Tony swung his legs out of bed and crossed the room, running his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to get in your business. I didn't have a right."

"You did have a right, Tony. I'm in Italy, with you. I'm sorry I said what I said. I was feeling hurt, and he was paying attention to me, so I probably was flirting back a little. But I hope you know I care so much about our relationship. And I would never actually...get together with Matteo."

"I appreciate that, but I have a newsflash for you, Angela: you are a gorgeous, confident, blonde American woman. Every man in Italy is going to think you're the most beautiful creature they've ever laid eyes on," he teased.

She blushed and looked down, nervously lacing her hands together. "He apologized after that moment you saw; I told him if we were going to work together, I needed to maintain professional boundaries. He said he got caught up in the moment. He has been very professional since then," she rambled.

He nodded his forgiveness, his face colored with earnest warmth. "I'm glad. I'm happy you got the account. And proud of you. You deserve it." He paused and searched for her eyes, which still refused to meet his. "Angela, what was that about back there? What did I do?"

She set her clutch down on the table by the door and drew a breath. "I was hurt by something Rosa said."

"The minute the woman learns a little English she's meddling," Tony said with an eyeroll to the heavens. "What did she tell you? Angela, I've been sitting up here trying to figure out what I could have possibly done to prompt a reaction like that."

"She said you begged her for another room."

"Well yeah, I did," he said sheepishly.

"She said you were angry, almost panicked, and that you did not want to be in the same room with me."

"I was. I didn't feel like I had given her any reason to assume we were together. And all that stuff she did with the rose petals was so suggestive, and we didn't need any more...suggestions. It wasn't appropriate."

Taken aback by his straightforward admission, she said, a little uncertain now of her understanding of the situation, "It felt like you were threatened, or didn't trust me, or didn't want to be with me." Saying it out loud, she felt silly. She cast her eyes downward; she couldn't explain exactly why it upset her, except that it felt like a tacit rejection, like they weren't on the same page after all. Why were they here at all, if not to possibly explore if there was more between them? At least, she thought she was reading between the lines. For years now, Tony had been chipping away at her armor of self-doubt, her fear of rejection, but tonight it had rebuilt itself anew, steeling her for heartbreak.

He stepped closer. "Angela...no. Of course I want to be with you. And of course I trust you. I just – didn't trust me."

"You?"

He tipped her chin up to meet his gaze.

His voice turned husky, raw with honest emotion. "Are you kiddin' me, Ange?" His hand curled around hers.

She froze, locked in his gaze, her breath in her throat, her heart quickening. Longing glinted in his eyes. A shift.

She wasn't sure who moved first, but suddenly their teeth crashed together, and her eyes slid closed as his prying tongue was eagerly greeted by hers. Her hands found his hair while he pulled back just enough to grin into the kiss, before pulling her closer, one hand settling on her hip and the other tracing a tingly trail along her back.

He tasted delicious, of sweet wine and desire. She emitted a blissful "mph" as he melted back into her, feeling his warm, sturdy body against hers. He tightened his grip around her as he began trailing kisses down her neck, then returned to her mouth desperately, as if it was some new source of oxygen he'd just discovered he couldn't live without.

Encouraged, her hands found their way to his waist, and she slid them underneath his pajama top, caressing his chest. His fingertips traveled to her stomach, moving their way up her shirt, her mouth devouring his, when he stopped.

"Wait," he gasped, breaking off the kiss. He pulled her into him, planting an apologetic kiss on her forehead.

"Mmm?" her eyes still closed against his soft pajama top, inhaling his familiar scent.

"We can't," he breathed, his voice cracked and tortured.

"Right." She blinked, coming back to earth with reluctant hesitation.

He squeezed her hands. "Angela - I want to. You know I want to. But no matter what happens here, when we go back home, you're still my boss."

"Yes, I am."

"And no matter how much either of us want this, that really complicates things."

She pulled away and shook her head a bit, in an effort to return reason and rational thought to her dazed mind. Clearing her throat, she said slowly, "Tony, don't you think we've already...complicated it?"

His eyes remained locked in hers. "I don't know, maybe." He sounded so unsure.

She bit her lip, cursing back the tears prickling her eyes.

"Tony, what is it that you want?"

His eyes darted around the room, seeking refuge somewhere, anywhere, before finding hers again. He licked his lips ever so slightly, conjuring courage.

Resolute, he replied simply, "I want you."

Her heart was pierced; she was stunned to silence, her head spinning. She hadn't expected him to say that.

She looked up at him, replying slowly. "But it's not that simple, is it?"

He shook his head sadly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Tony, since almost the day you walked through my door, you and I have been a team. Sort of like we're in a boat. The kids, the house, the chaos of life is all around us, carrying us in whatever direction they want. But for the last four years, we've been in this boat together."

"Yeah, that's true," he said, wondering where she was going with this.

"But we haven't been really steering the boat. I'm not even sure we have an oar. We were brought together by our circumstances, and then carried by them, with no idea what direction we're going in. It's always been so hazy, undefined between us. But we have had this unspoken understanding that we'll always be in this boat together, and that we're going somewhere...together."

He nodded, clearing his throat. "Well...I'm going to college, sort of hoping to find a more clear direction. Solid ground, or as they say here...terra firma. For both of us."

"Terra firma?"

"Yeah. Look, I know how I feel about you, Angela. But you're not just any woman. You're...everything to me; my best friend. And yet, you're my boss. I know for us to move forward, I can't be taking a paycheck from you. I can't be your housekeeper for us to work."

"Maybe that's true. But Tony," she said gently. "That's four years. Are we supposed to do this dance – be adrift in this boat like this – for four more years? Four years is...Sam's in college, Jonathan's almost in college, I'm...at the end of my childbearing years," she said bashfully. Her tone was escalating, growing more panicked as she thought aloud, "You're out of college, but doing what? Just starting out in a new career. Will you be ready right then?"

"I don't know," he admitted honestly.

"Of course you don't, it's four years away. And is that what you want, Tony? To do this dance for four more years, not together, but attached? With nothing but stolen glances and smoldering flirtation to sustain us? And Matteo is certainly not an isolated incident. Are you going to fly off into a jealous rage every time a man looks at me at a cocktail party? There will always be more Matteos, and Frankies, and Geoffreys. Would you blame either of us for needing to...indulge our need for more intimacy over the next four years? Especially when, and I only say this hypothetically, we don't know for sure that what we'll...work...in the end?"

"Hey yo, we'll work." He couldn't resist sliding a hand longingly back to her waist. Their emotions were running high, and clearly, a little confused. She leaned against the door, acquiring distance between them, needing her guard to remain up while they talked this through.

"But I've already been there, Angela. I can't get serious with anyone else. I already know that for me, *that* doesn't work anymore," he said, so quietly it was almost a whisper. His admission worked to defuse her.

She looked at him a moment, then it dawned on her. Frankie.

"That's why you –"

His eyes scanned the heavens, almost pained. "Of course it was."

She was stunned.

He held her glassy gaze again and added sadly, "The course of true love, Ange."

"But you did..."

"Yeah, I did," he admitted guiltily. "Probably out of what you just said. Just...needs. But then, I couldn't. It wasn't right. I had this pit in my stomach the whole time, like I was cheating. And like...I wasn't getting what I needed from who I needed it from," he said. Heat, shame, and desire were coursing through his whole body. He swallowed hard as he continued, "And really, I think it was right then that I knew for sure."

"Knew what?" Her heart was pounding with dizzy, confused elation.

"What a mess this all is. Me falling for you. Our family. I knew I had to find a way out of it. That was when I started thinking about college. There isn't a lot of upward mobility in housekeeping. I knew then that I needed to get my act together, because as much as I wanted to, I couldn't date my boss. I can't be a kept man."

"Oh Tony. You know it wouldn't be like that."

"Of course I do, Angela. But I also worry about how I would feel, eventually, if we just succumbed to whatever we're feeling in the moment. We've had so many opportunities, Angela. And as much as I want to, each and every time, I know what's at stake if we take that risk. I just - I gotta figure me out, before we can figure us out."

She thought quietly for a moment, before saying, "I do get it, Tony. It disrupts the family, our rhythm, our home."

"Our family; our rhythm, our home," he repeated solemnly. "That's just it. We already have all that," Tony said.

"Yes we do."

"Most people, when they get together, they don't make the family first." He smirked at his own expense, "Well, sometimes they do, but if they do they at least get to have a little fun doing it. I mean, hey, not for nothin, but we missed out on the best part," he teased, his eyes twinkling.

She chuckled lightly. "That's true."

"And then after they make the family, sometimes it doesn't work out. They realize, maybe they didn't belong together. It happened to you; it happens all the time."

She nodded. She understood this all too well.

His eyes met hers, and she was surprised to see they were glistening. He pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "Angela. The thing that makes this so hard is, I know..." he swallowed, fighting to retain composure, "I know we belong together."

Her lip quivered, and in spite of her steely resolve, she began to cry too.

"I've known that for a long time. And I know how I feel. How I feel doesn't change our circumstances. But I know I want you in this boat with me. And yet, I also know you and I need to be on terra firma - solid ground - and in control of whatever this is, before we can really be together."

She turned away from him and dabbed fat, stubborn tears from her eyes with the backs of her hands. His heart crumpled; he hated making her cry. Suddenly he wasn't sure what the point of any of this was. You don't think about these things, you feel them – right?

He took her by the shoulders, and gently turned her to face him. "Angela, maybe we just, take this slow. Not rush it."

She smirked, "Well, now that certainly isn't uncharted waters."

"No, it isn't." He took her hand. "I do want to move forward; and I think we should probably lean into how we're feeling a little more, rather than keep things exactly how they are. It feels like that's the right path, it's what we both want. But I also know that if we don't proceed carefully, we could both lose everything. It's my greatest fear, Angela."

She nodded, feeling tears pricking her eyes again. "Mine too." Her stomach churned, but whether it was out of nervousness, or anticipation, she couldn't tell. "So we'll just, take it slow? You lead the way, toward terra firma."

"Toward terra firma, together." He palmed her cheeks with both hands, sweeping away a rogue tear with his thumb. His callused hands slipped down her arms, and found her soft ones with a reassuring squeeze. "And hey oh, for what it's worth..." his gaze joined hers as he said in a low, confident growl, "I'm very confident that reaching terra firma will be worth the wait."

She kissed the back of his hand, still joined in hers. "Me too."

He pulled her close for one last embrace, and she settled into him sleepily. He feathered a tender promise on the top of her head. She sighed. Toward terra firma. Together.