Tony weaved his van through midtown Manhattan traffic, eager to reach Angela. He still could not get Samantha's words out of his mind, and they came back to haunt him now, as he searched for street parking near Wallace and MacQuaid. Dad, Jonathan says his dad yells a lot, and makes Angela cry. He smashed your brownies all over her storyboard. Tony gripped the steering wheel tighter and clenched his teeth. Finally, spying a departing car, he squeezed the large blue van into a too small parking spot, not caring that the car behind him would be trapped. Tony grabbed something out of the backseat and ran to the doors of Angela's advertising agency.

Angela felt as though she was surgically attached to her phone all morning. She had been fielding calls from various clients, their neediness grating on her already frayed nerves. After her fight with Michael on Saturday night, they had spent a noticeably quiet Sunday, barely speaking to each other. Angela had ended up shutting herself up in her study, finishing her storyboard, and starting in on two others that were not due for some time yet. She had also gone for two walks around the neighborhood to avoid Michael's accusatory glares. Dinner had been a sedate, depressing affair on Sunday evening. They had ordered a pizza since neither one was up for cooking, nor particularly gifted in that respect. Angela was sick of eating mediocre food, and especially missed Tony's Italian dishes, Linguine Alla Vongole being her absolute favourite. Tony. She thought of him now, and his kindness and gentle support of her work and life. As though her thoughts could generate reality, her secretary Rosie knocked at her door announcing that Tony was here. Here? Now? Angela felt her cheeks grow warm and her heart begin to hammer in her chest.

"Should I let him in, Boss?" Rosie waited for a response, seemingly puzzled by the slow reply. Her boss appeared to be out of breath.

"Yes, of course. Bring him in." Angela ran her hands down her skirt and adjusted her blouse. She meant to quickly comb her hair, then felt that her hair was up in a bun, so she swept her bangs off her forehead and straightened her posture.

"Hi Angela," Tony greeted her. He was carrying a Tupperware along with a waft of chocolate.

"Tony! Hello. What brings you by?" Her voice was high and awkward, and she cleared her throat. "Twice in a week. Is Samantha okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, Sam is fine. I, um, I wanted to see if you were free for lunch. And, er, I wanted to give you these. Here." Tony practically thrust the Tupperware at her. "I hope I'm not buggin' you or nothin'. If you're real busy, I'll just go, but I was nearby at Randall's Jewelry anyway, so ya know, not far …" he trailed off.

"Yes, I'd love to have lunch," she replied. "How sweet of you. What do we have here?" She opened the Tupperware and frowned at the new batch of Walnut Fudge brownies. "Oh."

"Oh?" Tony chewed on his lip. Angela appeared displeased, or rather somewhat offended. "Ya don't like 'em anymore?" he asked, disbelieving.

"No, no, of course not. They're delicious. Thank you." She forced a small smile and accepted them graciously. She was not about to explain to Tony that Michael had ruined brownies for her, that the very sight of them gave her anxiety because her husband had violently smashed them all over her storyboard. That she had had to start a brand-new storyboard and clean up his mess, and that the aroma wafting from the container was now sickeningly sweet. She closed the container and placed it on her desk.

"So, where were you thinking for lunch?" she asked, pleased that he had come by. He looked so handsome today, wearing a suit and tie, the crisp white shirt a sharp contrast to his olive skin.

Tony shrugged his shoulders. He had not thought that far ahead. He had only known that he had to see Angela today and speak with her. Samantha's revelation about the situation at the Bower house disturbed him greatly. "It's gotta be somewhere we can walk to. Parking here is the worst."

"Okay. How about a deli? There's Katz's a block from here. They make the best pastrami on rye I've ever had," she told him.

"Sold." They shared small smile.

When they arrived at the deli and paid for their sandwiches, they sat together in a padded burgundy velvet booth, and Tony remarked on the vintage feel of the place.

"It's been around since the turn of the century," Angela explained. They have amazing pickles, and their homemade rye bread is to die for. "I eat here at least once a week, and we sometimes get takeout for lunchtime meetings. Go ahead, try your pickle."

"Oh you're right, they are good!" Tony said after biting into his pickle, the greenish juice dribbling down his chin. Angela grabbed a paper napkin and dabbed at his face. "Och, you should have warned me about how juicy they are," he said with a chuckle. Their eyes met for a moment, before Angela quickly looked down, drawing the napkin away from Tony's chin.

"So, how is Samantha doing?" Angela asked, eager to start a conversation. She took a bite of her turkey on rye and relished it.

"She's great, Angela. I can't thank you enough, again. She's managing just fine and went to school like normal and all. I gave her some painkillers for the cramps, and a hot water bottle to take to bed." He sounded proud of himself.

"You're a good dad, Tony. It can't be easy being a single father, but you're doing fantastic with Samantha. She's a lucky little girl."

"Not so little anymore," he replied, his eyes downcast for a short moment. "But hey, she's growing up into a terrific person. Very caring, you know?"

"Yes, yes, I suppose Sam is a caring child," Angela replied, sensing that Tony was going somewhere with this.

"She cares about her friends. She cares about Jonathan, and about you ….", he trailed off. "In fact, she cares so much about Jonathan that she checks up on him at recess every day." Tony glanced up at Angela.

"That's extremely sweet of her. Tony, why do I get the feeling you're trying to say something more?" Angela put her sandwich down and looked Tony square in the face. "Is there something you need to tell me?"

"Yeah, well, it's like this; Sam talked to Jonathan yesterday at school," he began.

"Wait, wait, does this have to do with why you're here? Why you brought me a second batch of brownies?"

Tony looked down for a moment and took a deep breath. "Angela, is everything okay at home?" He dared to look up at her and saw that she was blushing and extremely uncomfortable with his line of questioning. "'Cause if it's not, and I don't think it is, I'm worried about your safety. Yours and Jonathan's."

Angela's jaw dropped. "What?! I'm not unsafe, Tony."

"You sure there? I heard what happened to the first batch of brownies," he said. "What the hell possessed Michael to smash them up?"

Angela looked away and was silent for a long moment before speaking. "Michael is frustrated by his desk job. He resents my work. I've told you this already."

"Not much of an explanation for destroying my brownies, Angela. Does he have a problem with me?"

She swallowed hard. "He, he doesn't like me to spend time with you. He's jealous."

"So, this lunch …"

"He wouldn't like it," she told him. "But Tony, I'm a grown woman and I can choose my own friends."

"But he thinks there's more than friendship going on?" Tony was perplexed at the level of jealousy Michael exhibited.

"I don't know what he thinks about you specifically, but he's extremely possessive of my time. He feels that because he quit his jungle job, that I should devote myself to him now. He doesn't like that I have my own life, and my own things to do, my career, my friends, or my alone time." Angela realized it sounded bad and she tried to backtrack but once the words were out of her mouth, there was no way to get them back. And hearing them made her cringe.

Tony wanted to cringe too. He did not like this one bit and worried for Angela's wellbeing. He was also concerned that his presence interfered in a rocky marriage. Then again, he was not about to let Angela navigate this all by herself. He surprised himself by the next words that popped out of his mouth, "When's he leaving on that two-week trip?"

"Day after tomorrow," she replied.

"I think you should keep the brownies in your office," he said. "Just to be safe."

"I am safe, Tony. And I have not forgotten about our dinner to celebrate you getting into Ridgemont College. We're going to do that while he's away."

"You bet, Angela. You bet. But here's the thing," he hedged. "We should be able to have that dinner anytime. We shouldn't have to wait until your husband is out of town. I mean, it's not a date or anythin'."

"Of course not!" Angela sounded vaguely offended. "It's a family dinner."

"Yeah, family," he agreed.

"I just think we'll have a better time without Michael's resentful glares," she said.

He nodded. "Come on, let me walk you back to the office. Unless you want dessert?"

"Brownies, remember?"

"Right." Tony got up and helped Angela clear her tray. "Thanks for bringing me here; this deli is terrific."

"Anytime, Tony, anytime." She took the arm he held out to her and felt his muscle, strong and steady beneath her fingertips. They walked that way the block back to the agency.

When they got to the entrance, he pulled his arm away and placed his hands on her shoulders, then looked her squarely in the eyes. "If you ever feel unsafe, you know you can call me. I'm ten minutes away, Angela. Only ten minutes."

Angela scoffed and shook her head. "I'm safe, Tony. Perfectly safe." But even while saying it, she couldn't tear her eyes away from his dark, intense gaze.

"But you can call me for anything," he persisted.

"Alright. Same goes, Tony."

He nodded and said good-bye to her. She watched as he walked to his badly parked van and a slight shudder ran through her. She thought back to Michael's fist pummeling the brownies and shook her head to dismiss the image. "You're wrong, Tony", she whispered.