"What would he say, Tony?"

"He would say we only get one shot at this, and it's time I told you I love you. I shoulda told you a long time ago, Ange."

Tony stepped into her, running a hand down her waist, the light touch of his fingers on her hip bone zipping a warm tingle through her. And yet, he didn't kiss her. His eyes darted down to her mouth and he brushed his thumb across her lips, to her cheek, captivated, as if he was drinking her in through his hooded chestnut eyes, committing this moment to memory. The moment before the delicate web of five years' worth of glances and touches and gestures, carefully woven into a love language all their own, finally gave way to a brand new life.

Wordlessly, he slid his hand from her lips into her hair, pulling her tenderly into a kiss, her lips parting eagerly with a satisfied hum as he explored deeper, as they had a few nights before. But this was something easier. Something warmer. Something new. Their first unforbidden kiss.

His hands began to roam freely as his mouth worked its way down her neck. But his hands recaptured her face and he joined his lips to hers, ravenous for another taste. She was finally, completely his, and as one hand dragged her nails through his thick hair and the other roamed from his chest down to his stomach, every nerve ending in his body was begging for more of her, right now, until tonight became tomorrow. Until tomorrow became forever.

She let out a whimper of pleasure as his hand skirted the side of her breast, and he began working at the back of her dress, eager to hear that sound again. The needle on the record player skipped, "Under my skin" crackled on, dragging him out of his spell. He groaned, remembering why they were here, and reluctantly pulled away from her, kissing her forehead, cheeks, and forehead again.

"Angela," his hoarse whisper brought her back down to earth as he pulled her into a tight embrace, "I fully intend to finish this with you tonight, but we've already gotten a little ahead of my ah, plan here."

"Mmm," she replied dreamily, her cheek pressed against his chest, the rhythm of his steadying heartbeat quieting her racing mind. "I've immensely enjoyed the first part of your plan. You lead the way, Tony."

He took her hand, leading her back to the table with the wine glasses.

"Angela, I need you to know, that before we even left for this trip, there was a big part of me that hoped – or maybe even thought – that somehow we would get to this point. I just didn't know how. A lot of things crystallized quickly in my mind since we got here, and I was a little overwhelmed. I wasn't very good company and I know you were disappointed. I'm sorry."

"I wasn't disappointed, Tony. I knew you needed some space. It's okay."

"I was so frustrated about everything. With us, with me. But when I talked to Aldo the next day, it felt like an opening for us."

"What did Aldo say?"

"That first morning he and I walked the property, he told me he wanted to give me the vineyard. He wants it to stay in the family – be in good hands, before he retires. I refused at first; I told him I couldn't take it, it didn't make any sense. My home is in Connecticut.

"But he insisted I could remain in Connecticut, and the foreman would manage the day to day operations. I could just come back every few months or so, for a week or two at a time. So I asked him to give me some numbers, draw up some papers, give me a little time to think. I didn't want to discuss it with you until I knew for certain that it would work, that it was something I could do without disrupting...us, our family...too much.

"That all sounds so reasonable Tony. I know we can make it work. And I'm thrilled for you – this just feels right, like something you were meant to do."

"I have no idea what I'm doing–"

"So? You didn't know how to be a housekeeper either, but you figured it out. You've streamlined the running of our home in a way no other person could have. I know you'll do big things here – this is an incredible opportunity. You're creative, dynamic, you have initiative...you're exactly what they need, Tony."

"And ay yo – even if I'm not technically your housekeeper anymore, I'd like to keep my responsibilities around the house."

"I'm sure we can come up with a way to make that work, if that's what you want. I'm just glad you know now...what you want," she smiled at him gently.

"It hit me after our visit to Antonio. I know I was kinda quiet that night, and I'm real sorry, Angela. I just had this...I don't know what to call it, sorta like an epiphany. Like everything we were doing, everything I was doing, was wrong. All I knew for sure was I wanted you. Why couldn't I just go for it? Clearly what we have is real. The rest will figure itself out."

"And, Angela," he admonished, "Not for nothin' but it kinda breaks my heart that we are still in a place where you would ever think I would jump on any opportunity that came along if it would mean leaving you. Without talking to you, Ange? Come on. It's me, Tony. You know me better than that. Who told you I was moving to Italy?" he asked softly.

She looked up at him with a pained expression, bracing herself for his admonishment. "Rosa."

"Rosa?" he grumbled, with a pinch toward the heavens. "That woman is going to put me in an early grave, I swear it."

She chuckled, then looked at him again, this time solemnly. Guiltily.

"Tony, there's something else. I – I read your card."

His mouth turned up into a gentle smile. "You did? That was supposed to be for, well, later."

She nodded. "I'm sorry – I was upset, and I thought it might provide some clarity. Which, it did, of course. More than I expected," she smiled, running a hand down his arm to take his hand. "But Tony – it was the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. Well, besides maybe, climbing a ladder in subfreezing temperatures to keep me from a very imprudent marriage. Selling his only baseball card from his pro career to buy me a beautiful Christmas gift. Recreating my prom in my living room."

Even as she said it, it was as if she was seeing it all clearly for the very first time. That all these years, even when he couldn't say how he felt, he had always found a way to show her.

"Well, I needed you to know. You've been it for me for a long time, Angela."

"Somehow, I think I just realized that."

And this –" he gestured toward the table set up with neat pairs of wine glasses and bottles, "Is how I was hoping to make up for all those years we lost."

She looked at him quizzically as he pulled the cork off of the first bottle with a flourish. "Now this Angela, this here is a 1984 Duca di Salaparuta Micelli." He poured each of them a glass and handed her hers.

"1984 is when I showed up at your door. September, to be exact. And I was already pretty sure I was in trouble a few weeks in when you were shooting hoops with me in the driveway in your ballgown."

She gave him a knowing smile and stepped toward the table. "I wish my date hadn't showed up. I don't even remember his name."

"Mitchell," he grumbled.

"Ah, right! Mitchell," she said, surprised, and a little touched by his memory.

"That was when I knew there was something different about you, Angela. That somehow, even though we came from different worlds, there was something about us that just worked. That was the first time I wanted to kiss you," he admitted a bit sheepishly.

"Really. I would have thought it was the first time you saw me getting out of the tub," she chided, her eyes doing a little dance with his. Tony's eyes widened and he smoothed a hand over his chest, puffing it up nervously.

"Ah, now that - that was a different first, Angela, and you'll have to excuse me but a gentleman doesn't divulge his most private thoughts. Besides, back then you were only a fantasy."

"A fantasy?"

"Come on Ange - you were this gorgeous, blonde Madison Avenue executive. I just came from a job driving a fish truck. The first time I laid eyes on you I was in awe. I had never even met anyone like you, ever. And ay yo, I'm a pretty confident guy, but I can assure you that there wasn't any part of me that thought I had a shot in hell at a future with you at that point. I was cleaning your toilets. So sure, you were a fantasy - a dream."

He reached out to stroke her cheek. "I guess now maybe I can say you're a dream come true."

Angela thought about how dark her world felt then, when Tony and Samantha showed up on her stoop. She was closed off, hardened out of necessity, and yes, she admitted to herself, unattainable – but not just to Tony, to any man who was truly worthy of her. Wounded and deflated, she was only attracted to men who validated her insecurities, and, at times even exploited them.

Of course, Tony had been a fantasy too in the beginning. Obviously she was immediately attracted to him; a woman would have to be dead not to be. But they didn't make any sense. They came from different worlds. He was her employee; he was out of bounds. In the beginning, it was almost laughable – hardly a thought worth entertaining, except at night, when those thoughts were, as Tony said, most private.

Yet over time, Tony had punctured the dark sky of her life with tiny pinpricks of light that never wavered, always bathing her in a warmth that was safe and loving, gentle and secure. Bit by bit, he had coaxed the light in, gently reminding her that life is best lived not in the office, but with the ones you love. For every time he somehow happened upon her ruminating over a mug of tea in the kitchen at 1 in the morning, every batch of triple chocolate fudge brownies he made on family movie night, every reassuring squeeze of her shoulder when she doubted in her ability to resuscitate a dead pitch, he was quietly crafting a new constellation, a backdrop for a world where they made sense together.

And somehow along the way, in the background of their lives, her sky had become blanketed with stars, but more importantly, for the first time in her life, she realized she had found someone who wanted her to see them.

Tony gently interjected into her thoughts, "You gave Sam and me a home. You welcomed her like she was your own daughter. You even pretended to be married to me, for Sam. Somewhere in there it dawned on me that I had a partner again. Someone to share parenting with, someone to share life with.

"And then you helped me move on from losing my father, and I found myself opening up to you more than I'd ever really opened up to anyone. I can't tell you how much it meant that you came. I already felt this...intense connection...with you. But you were my boss, this incredible high-powered executive in Manhattan. To me, you were untouchable, like a goddess. In a million years, I didn't expect you to become that person for me. And I don't think I even knew I needed that, but you knew it, Angela. You knew I was hurting.

"Then we had that first Christmas together...it felt so right all of a sudden. Like all the pieces were falling into place. A home, a family, a friend I could confide in, a kid I loved like a son, a...Mona," he joked. She laughed. "Our first Lindy by the tree. Christmas morning with the kids. It was almost more than I could have dreamed of in a job." He swallowed, and added quietly, "In a life."

Angela looked at him thoughtfully, tears pricking at her eyes. "And here all this time I thought it was you and Sam who saved us."

He adjusted his tie nervously, a bit flustered from his soul-baring revelation, and raised his glass in a toast. "To 1984." She smiled at him, and clinked his glass coolly, but a lump was forming in her throat and a warm, tingly feeling was taking hold in her belly, the same warm feeling that snuck up her when Tony bought pink roses for the house, or when he shot her a look from across a party that was just for her.

Angela took a sip. "Ooh, it's delicious, Tony," she smiled appreciatively. "Subtle but very smooth."

He threw a napkin over his arm, waiter-style and assumed a faux Italian accent.

"I agree. A perfect 1984 wine. You can return to whichever glass you like when we are finished with the tasting, signora," he teased as he fixed her a cracker of cheese and honey. "A little Pecorino Siciliano to cleanse the palate?"

"Mmm, how can I resist?" She opened her mouth, and he eased the cracker in, swiping a little honey from her lip with his thumb. As if in slow motion, she looked straight into his eyes and sucked the honey off his finger with a tantalizing smile, finishing it with a kiss.

"Now this, Angela – this, is the 1985 Vega Sicilia Gran Reserva Micelli. A little more robust and fruit-forward than the last one."

"I'm going to let it air out a bit on Aldo's suggestion." He took her hand and slid his arm around her waist, pulling her into an easy dance.

"So, ah, speaking of our Lindy by the tree, that was the first time I realized that dancing with you was the only way I could be as close to you as I wanted to be. Without, you know, ah, anything between us having to change." He leaned in and growled in her ear huskily, "That's why I danced with you every chance I got."

She smiled. "I've noticed the dancing has picked up a bit more lately."

His lips grazed her ear, "Your ah, sleep talking confessionals may have emboldened me," he admitted. "But I cut it close there a few times. It was becoming a bit of a struggle to remain professional if you know what I mean."

She pulled back and smiled at him coquettishly, "I guess we don't have to worry about that anymore."

"You have no idea what a relief that is. So...1985. That was a pretty big year. A lot of Michael, eh?"

She pulled back and met his eyes with her narrowed ones. "Too much Michael."

"I'd have to agree with you there, but I –"

Angela put her fingers to Tony's lips, quieting him. "Tony, first let me say something." she said gently. "Michael- his surprise return, and the threat of you leaving us, was the first time I think I really understood how much you had already come to mean to me. I realized when you left, that my marriage had been dead a long while. I should have been happy having my husband home, but I was bitter, and resentful, and the love between us just wasn't there anymore. And at some point while you were gone, I recognized that void that he wasn't filling - had never filled - had already been filled by you. I missed you terribly."

Tony's eyes were soft as he spoke. "I missed you too, Angela. That was a weird, confusing time. I didn't know...where I should go. I didn't know where my home should be anymore. Sam and I felt so at home with you, Jonathan and Mona. But Connecticut suddenly didn't seem right for us at my fancy new job. And yet, I wasn't sure we could ever go back to Brooklyn."

"I'm sorry, Tony."

"Naw - no, Angela. You needed to get through that with Michael. We turned out ok. And besides, it wasn't you who kicked us out in the first place." His expression was genuine and true.

"That's true," she said quietly. "And then you came with us to California. And you helped me fight Michael for Jonathan. I think it was around then that I realized I wasn't sure I could ever see my life without you in it. I don't know how I would have gotten through that alone."

"Well hey, you weren't alone. You had us – all of us. We are a family. And I love Jonathan like my own kid. I wasn't going to let him go without a fight."

"I'm very grateful for that. More than you know, Tony."

"And anyway, there were some good parts in there too. Like our first Thanksgiving in Brooklyn. When I realized I wasn't really looking for a nice Italian girl to take care of me anymore."

He pulled apart from her just enough to look her in the eyes. "You know you're Meryl Streep, right?"

She blushed as she met his eyes, "I maybe hoped so."

He studied her a moment. "I've...changed how I see the world, since I met you," he said, thinking aloud, looking directly into her eyes. "This is maybe the first time I'm realizing that."

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing," she replied, meeting his gaze. In the quiet of Sinatra's crooning, their eyes slipped into an easy, practiced dance – their first language – and out of old habit, instinct, or anticipation (she wasn't sure which), Angela's chest was suddenly full of butterflies, seeking a safe spot to land.

Once borne out of necessity to express what couldn't dare be said, this language they already shared with their eyes was now, she realized, a wonderful bonus of falling in love with a partner who already knew her as intimately as she knew herself.

He interrupted her reverie. "And then before that there was our first kiss, Ange."

She put a hand to her cheek, "Don't remind me. I'm still so embarrassed."

"Ange-la...that was hot. That kiss. I didn't know you could kiss like that." His growl was playful, his eyebrow cocked.

She cast him a sultry smile. "It was pretty hot, wasn't it."

"Hey, I thought you didn't remember!"

"Well...I do. A little. It's the after part I had trouble remembering." she smiled. "And you kissed me."

He smirked. "Yeah I did."

She smacked his chest. "I knew it!"

"But ay-yo, you enjoyed it."

She met his eyes with a blush. "Definitely."

"And," he gestured at the wine glass, "No matter how much of that you have, you're going to remember it tonight."

Her cheeks flushed a deeper crimson. "Definitely," she said again, throwing back the last sip of her tasting.

He topped off her glass. "And then we went to Jonathan's camp. Madonna-mi, Angela I am still not sure how I got through that night with you, and I was still thinking about that kiss from earlier that summer. I wanted you so bad."

"You know what I wanted that night, Tony? More than just...well, you know."

"What?"

"I just wanted you to hold me. Our relationship already felt like it was in a place where that was a natural thing to want. We were already so close."

"Oh, oh that's very cute Angela, but no."

"No?"

"No. You have to know that even our bodies touching like that was absolute torture for me all night long. Torture, Angela. I would have loved to hold you but it would have been the beginning of the end. After everything that happened that night? After what you said? How things could probably be good the way they aren't? That was an opening, Angela. Old Tony would have run right through that opening and ravaged you right there on that tiny little bed. It still may be my greatest achievement of all time, keeping my hands to myself that night."

She laughed, her cheeks now deeply crimson. "Fair enough. And thank you for your service," she teased.

"But that there," he gestured to the sky, "is an excellent point I mean about us fighting the universe. For cryin' out loud, Angela - we were each other's first kiss? And now we live in the same house, where we do everything together but kiss?" His tone was suddenly exacerbated, frustrated – as if this was all someone else's terrible idea.

She grabbed his arm gently, stilling him, and met his eyes as her hand slid to his abdomen, the tips of her fingers lightly teasing at his waistband. She had long known the power of her touch to calm him, but to her delight, tonight she had access to uncharted territory. "Do you want to kiss me now?"

He licked his bottom lip, holding her gaze and murmuring hungrily, "You bet I do," and gently cupped her cheeks as he pulled her into a long, unhurried yet deeply passionate kiss. Angela began exploring his mouth a little more boldly, running her hands over his chest and emitting happy groans from her now very calm Tony.

He pulled away with some reluctance, murmuring, "Holy smokes, I could do that forever." He took a step back, pursing his swollen lips and smoothing his chest, then poured the aerated wine. "But. But. We have to wait just a little longer. Because we are only just now in 1985 and I have more to say." He handed her the glass and they toasted.

He raised his glass, "to 1985," and they sipped their wine. To her surprise and delight, Tony leaned in and kissed her again, casually, sweetly, as if it was something he did a hundred times a day.

Angela smudged his lips with her thumb playfully and rubbed her own lips together, tasting him - and the wine.

"Hmm...A little more fruit-forward. But restrained," she smiled.

"Tastes like potential," he winked.

"So this, this Angela is 1986: Vino Corvo di Castello di Micelli. 1986 was a very good year. Our accidental date courtesy of our Cupid Jonathan is still one of the best dates I've ever had."

"Oh Tony, that was such a lovely evening. Sweet and a little awkward, maybe. But I think Jonathan did succeed in bringing us closer together."

"Are you kiddin' Angela? If you had been anyone else, anyone besides my boss, I would have been banging down her door every day until she went out with me again. And you were a knockout in that red dress, madonna-mi."

She laughed, and his tone turned serious and quiet. "I was enchanted. All night. Just like I was tonight."

"And of course, there was our poker night - when I realized maybe opposites do attract. And I thought you wouldn't fit in with my crowd, but the guys were completely enamored with you. I think Tiny still has a not-so-tiny crush," he joked.

She smiled. "I had so much fun with your friends. And I'm glad they liked me too."

"Like I said, what's not to love?" He took the wine glass out of her hand and set it on the table, sweeping her hair through his fingers as he pulled her in for another kiss, his most confident kiss yet. It took Angela's breath away.

As he pulled back he murmured against her lips, "I wanted to do that so bad that night."

"Going to have to get used to that. It's not every day I'm kissed by an Italian." She smirked as she added, "Or as Mother would say, it's not every day I'm kissed at all."

Tony rolled his eyes, chiding her self-doubt. "Trust me, any man in a one hundred mile radius would be thrilled to kiss you, Angela. You just work too much."

"Or maybe I wasn't looking very hard. I already had the man I wanted at home," Angela said coolly, playing with his hair.

Tony blinked, and swallowed hard. For a moment, he seemed overcome.

"Some of my favorite memories are in '86, Angela. One of them was when you saved me from the feminine wiles of Miss Genevieve Pescher," he waggled his eyebrows teasingly.

"Oh stop, Tony. I know, I was being ridiculous. Genevieve is still one of my favorite clients. She asks about you, you know."

"You never told me that!"

"Oh? Must have slipped my mind," she replied, coyly raising her glass to her lips for a sip.

"I'll admit that was one of the first moments I thought maybe you did really feel the way I was beginning to feel. And of course our anniversary, how could I forget that." She felt his strong hands on her waist, spinning little designs onto her hip bone as he talked. "I got the five-star boss treatment. I sometimes think I kissed you that night."

"I think you wanted to kiss me. But instead you told me you loved me," she deadpanned, tucking into his neck for a little nip.

His head curled upward, immensely enjoying her sudden playfulness. "I know, I know. I should have owned it, Angela."

Angela pulled back. "No, Tony, I know why you didn't. We weren't ready. We weren't ready the night at the cabin after Kissing Rock either. We're just...complicated. Like we said the other night. Timing is everything."

"And then I lost you your job."

"I should have given you a raise for getting me fired."

"Well, you did, a big one, after I helped you start the Bower Agency."

She laughed. "I guess I did."

"But hey yo, I know one time I almost crossed the line after that."

"The Fergusons' wedding," Angela finished his thought.

"We were dancing like this, but I wanted to be dancing like this," he feathered a kiss on her lips, and then began peppering a trail of lazy kisses down her cheek, back to the nape of her neck, which had quickly become a favorite spot of his. "From that point on I have –" he said between kisses, "a lot of regrets."

Angela sucked in a breath. "I don't. I think this is the path we were meant to be on. And," she said as he continued his ministrations of her neck, "you're doing a beautiful job making up for lost time."

He cleared his throat as he worked the cork out of the next bottle with his arms wrapped behind her back. "You're not doing too bad yourself, there, Ange. 1987 - this is one of Aldo's favorite bottles."

"Pretty neat trick, opening a bottle of wine with a woman attached to you."

"Well, Angela, as you said, I *am* Italian."

She laughed and gave his shoulder a playful poke, holding her glass for him to pour. "You forgot to mention one of my very favorite memories, from the end of 1986. The vase you gave me for Christmas with the money you got from selling your baseball card."

He smiled proudly. "I just wanted you to know I cared."

"Do you know, that whole night at his mother's I was thinking about you? I was so distracted; I couldn't believe you would do that for me. Just the coincidence of it all - that I would be the one to buy it back. All of a sudden things felt different, between us. I felt...intimately connected to you, by some invisible string. It may have been around then I was starting to see it was always going to be you. And things with Geoffrey were beginning to feel very, very wrong."

"Well, it took you long enough to break up with him," he teased, handing her the freshly poured glass.

She wrinkled her nose and swatted him playfully. "He was very...persistent." She added thoughtfully as she sipped the wine, "And I was confused. And it felt like after I broke up with Geoffrey you got more attentive. So maybe you were confused too."

"I've been confused awhile, now, Angela. I felt this gravitational pull toward you, no matter how much I tried to reason with myself. That's why I was so miserable when I moved out."

She pushed a loose lock of hair from his forehead and smiled. "We were both miserable when you moved out. There was one night I was up in the middle of the night making myself a mug of tea, and I looked across the way. Your light was still on. I wanted so badly to come join you."

"Why didn't you?"

She blushed, "I don't know, I didn't want to invade your privacy."

"Trust me, I would have welcomed the company, I was so lonely. That was when I realized I didn't even know how to date anymore."

She gave him a knowing smile, remembering what Philly Fingers had told her that night. "I was so relieved you wanted to move back in. But right after that, there was Frankie...and then you got that offer to move to Washington. I kept running into the notion that you and I might not be...forever. Which for some reason, I had begun to assume we were."

"Well, then I guess it was 1987 when I realized what I wanted, Angela," he said gently, tugging her head back into his chest. "Because I couldn't be with Frankie. And I couldn't go to Washington. I knew where my home was." He kissed her forehead and she ran her hands up his chiseled back, relishing her new ability to touch him freely.

She pulled back and looked up at him. "I'm glad you knew."

She picked up her wine glass and took a generous sip.

"This one is my favorite. So full-bodied, with a lot of depth. Robust, rich, chocolate notes. Sort of sneaks up on you at the end."

"I agree. It's my favorite too," he winked.

"I'm looking forward to 1988," she said, with a sultry twitch of her lips. She scanned the table and realized there weren't any bottles left. "Or am I?"

"Ah, well 1988 is a bit of a different situation, signora," he gestured with his finger in the air.

She looked at him quizzically. "It is?"

He nodded and took her hand. "Come with me." He slung his coat over his arm, took one of the candles and led her by the hand, down a barrel-lined corridor, to the back where the hallway took a sharp left into some shallow stairs. Tony pulled open the heavy door to reveal a smaller room. He lit the staggered, drippy collection of candles in the center, illuminating the beautiful vaulted brick ceiling. Arched openings, also constructed of ancient brick, were neatly carved into the walls; contained within were wine racks holding hundreds of bottles of wine. Angela admired the room as she shivered, rubbing the chill of her bare arms.

Tony stepped behind her and slipped his coat over her shoulders. "Thought you might be cold back here," he smiled. She stepped into his arms as he helped her put it on, then wrapped his arms around her from behind, warming her up. She could die happily here, she thought, here in this candlelit cellar, Frank still faintly crooning on the scratchy record player, Tony's strong arms holding her close.

"This is the famiglia's cellar. The bottles are only drunk with permission of the owner. And this –" he gestured with his candle, "Was my father's section. Aldo brought me here earlier. These bottles were all placed here before my mother and father left Sicily. Every bottle of theirs is tagged."

She gently slid a dusty bottle from the rack. "Operazione Husky, 1943," she read. "Tony...this is incredible."

"All the tags on these bottles were written by my father. There's one from every big moment in his life. I'm sure he planned to drink them with my mother when they returned. But of course, they never came back," he said quietly.

He pulled another bottle from the rack. "Look at this, Ange. He sent this one from America and had Aldo tag it for him."

She read aloud, "Anthony Morton Micelli, 1951...oh Tony. How incredibly special to have this. Maybe we can open it when Sam has a baby."

Tony's eyes narrowed.

"Far, far down the road. Decades from now. In the next century," she added hastily.

His eyes softened. Suddenly his voice went quiet and earnest. "Ay yo, who says we can't drink it sooner? In a few years maybe. That is...I mean, only if you want to of course."

Her mouth grew into a thoughtful smile as his meaning dawned on her. "I'd like to, if we can," she replied, suddenly blushing, suddenly nervous though she didn't know why. "I guess we'll just see, won't we?"

His dark eyes flickered with hers in the candlelight, pulling her back into their unspoken dance. All at once, her heart felt it could hardly hold everything he was telling her, everywhere they had gone tonight.

He pulled out another bottle, brushing the dust off the label. "Ana Cammisa, primo bacio, 1943, Maggio," Angela read the faded scrawl on the manila tag. She looked up at him and asked softly, "What does it mean?"

"Ah, Ana Cammisa, first kiss, May 1943. I thought we should open it tonight, you know, since they aren't here," he said quietly, suddenly aware his nerves were betraying took out the corkscrew and dusted off the cork, preparing to open the wine. "I uh, thought we could open it to celebrate our first kiss. Well, not our first kiss, but our first kiss as the start of something...new. On terra firma. In 1988."

"Tony," Angela breathed softly.

Completely at a loss for words, instead she kissed him again, freely and hard, through fresh tears that had just sprung forth, and his strong arms enveloped her, welcoming her, drinking in this new freeing feeling of fulfilled longing, of touching and loving and being loved completely in return.

He gently worked the cork out of the bottle, and they marveled at how intact it was. Angela took the glass from him and raised it. "To terra firma."

He raised a finger and said quietly into her eyes, "To la luce della mi vita. On terra firma, at last."


A/N: These Sicilian wine names are totally made up, but they are loosely based on bottles that exist from that year. My apologies if there are any aficionados in the group; I confess I know next to nothing about Italian wines so just try your best to not let it distract you :).