Things returned to normal as everyone settled back into their pre-Michael routines. The kids went to school together, played and bickered like they always had, and a sense of balance was regained. Angela's relief at having her life back was tremendous and she relished the care Tony gave her. He was more attentive to her, more focused on her needs. As such, she felt herself drawn to him, to his company and mere presence. While he cooked, she often sat in the kitchen with him, watching as he prepared food while they chatted about their day. She found a level of intimacy and friendship with him that had sorely been missing with Michael. And, with Tony she felt safe, protected, cherished. He was a much better husband than Michael, she mused to herself, the thought catching her off guard. Now that she had built a friendship with him outside of his employment situation, she saw him differently. She saw him as a true friend and partner of sorts, and her affection for him kept growing.
As the weeks, then months went by, Angela's healing progressed slowly but surely. At first, she relaxed and stopped cringing, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Tony. He knew then that he had made the right decision in staying. Then, the crying jags became shorter and further apart. She stopped crying herself to sleep every night, though she still had the occasional difficulty falling asleep, thinking about her pregnancy loss and the violence she had suffered in her erstwhile marriage. On the work front, Angela was unbeatable. She won account after account, plunging herself into her work full force. These business successes helped her compensate for the feelings of failure that lingered unpleasantly since Michael's departure. She worked so hard that she was nominated for a prestigious advertising award.
"I'm really proud of you, Angela", Tony told her when he found out. They were all at dinner when Angela announced that an awards banquet and ceremony was forthcoming. For now, she only knew that she was nominated, but she was hopeful. The work she had done on the Crunchy Crawlers account had not gone unnoticed, and right now she was the talk of Madison Avenue. She was brash, they said, ballsy for a woman, young, with a fresh perspective. The jealous dinosaur types criticized her for her sex and invented smutty innuendo, but Angela was used to it, even when it came from her own Vice President, Jim Peterson. She inured herself to the insults and chose to focus on the positive. And right now, the nomination certainly was positive.
"So, can we go with you to the banquet?" Samantha asked, as they all ate dinner together. "Is it really fancy? Do you wear a ball gown?"
"Oh Sweetheart, I wish I could take you," Angela told her. "And yes, I do wear a ball gown of sorts. It's a fancy smancy event, for sure. That's why I need to bring a date with me, you understand."
"You mean fancy schmancy, Angela? Take Dad," was the quick reply out of Sam's mouth, full of half masticated noodles.
"Oh, I don't want to overstep," Tony started, "but if you need a date, Angela, I'd be happy to attend with you." His heart skipped a beat when he uttered the word 'date'.
"Of course, Tony. I'd love for you to attend. I figure we have lots of things to celebrate, including the fact that you've started your College courses. We should have a swanky night out."
"Yeah, you want me to be your date?" he asked. He didn't know why he could not simply accept without repeating that word, over and over. He needed it to be a date. He wasn't a mere housekeeper now; he was also a College student and on the road to a better future.
Angela smiled at him, at his sincere boyishness. "Yes, Tony, I want you to be my date," she said, and meant it.
The evening of the advertising banquet, Angela took her time getting ready. First, she went to the hair salon and let them fix her hair in a stylish up do. Light bangs framed her face, and her chignon was high up on her head, showcasing her long neck. They also applied her makeup, giving her a sexy cat eye sweep of liner on her upper eyelids, and then subtle makeup throughout. This had the effect of making her eyes pop beneath the light fringe of hair. She admired herself in the mirror and smiled. No trace of Michael's past abuse was visible on her face now. She had recovered her health and strength and had a rosy glow on her elegant cheekbones.
Tony could barely contain his excitement when it was time for the Advertising Awards Ceremony and Banquet. He rented a tuxedo, had his hair trimmed and splurged on a new aftershave lotion. That evening, while he was getting ready, his thoughts drifted to Angela, who was herself preparing for the evening in her room next door. She had said she wanted him as her date. She had used the very word to describe their outing this evening. Tony pondered, wondering if it was a date date, or was Angela simply referring to him as a date because he was accompanying her to a special function? No. She had also said they needed to celebrate his starting College courses. So, he was not a mere escort. They were planning an evening together to celebrate both of their achievements. He felt almost giddy as he tied his bowtie.
When Tony was ready, he waited at the bottom of the stairs for Angela to come down. Mona and the children waited with him.
"Considering the amount of time, it's taking her to get ready, I expect her to look spectacular," Mona said.
"Come on Mone, you know she will," Tony replied. He had purchased a small wrist corsage with a single pink rose on it. He knew it was elegant enough to complement any colour of dress.
He saw her silver shoes first, as she came down leading with those long legs of hers. He looked up and gaped, his mouth hanging open. Angela wore a sapphire blue gown threaded through with silver. It was strapless with a tight bodice that showed off her curves to perfection. The skirt flared out at the bottom lending the gown elegance and ease of movement. It was a dress designed for dancing. She stepped onto the landing and did a little twirl for everybody's benefit.
"How do I look?" she asked her family.
The children exclaimed with ooohs and aaaahs while Mona complimented her daughter. "You look stunning, dear. That's some dress. Going to wow all the Ad men with that one. Tony will have to beat them off with sticks."
"Thank you Mother. When I saw it, I simply had to have it," she said.
Tony couldn't help thinking that seeing Angela now, he simply had to have her. Instead, he presented her with the wrist corsage.
"Oh Tony, how sweet, thank you," she gushed. "And my, don't you look handsome tonight."
Tony did a small twirl of his own and then bowed before Angela. "Angela, you look beee-aaa—uuu-tiful. I'm going to be the envy of every man at that banquet."
"Aw, you're very sweet. Wait, I have something for you." Angela took off in the direction of her study and disappeared for a few moments. When she returned, she was holding a small box. She presented it to Tony. "For your classes," she said.
"You got me something?" he asked, moved by the gesture. He opened the box and found a fourteen karat gold pen inside.
"It's inscribed," she told him. "Lift it up and read the side."
Tony smiled as he removed the pen from the box. The inscription read, 'To Tony, for your learning adventures. Love A.' Tony felt the weight of the gold, its coolness between his fingers and his eyes lingered on Angela's words, the word 'love' jumped out at him as though its font was twice the size of the other words. He felt a small lump in his throat. Love, he wondered. She signed her initial with love. His heart seized for a moment and he very much wanted to know what kind of love.
"Angela, this is … this means so much. Thank you." He gave her a huge grin, before adding, "I love it." He couldn't help himself. He needed to say that word in some context before it exploded out of him and he embarrassed himself.
"Oooh, you're welcome. I'm so proud of you, Tony." She gave him an impulsive squeeze and the scent of his new, expensive aftershave wafted up her nostrils. She inhaled deeply. "You smell wonderful," she blurted out, then blushed. "I mean, I like your new aftershave."
Tony smiled and thanked her. "Shall we M'Lady? Shall we go get your award?"
"I'm only nominated," she reminded him. "It's an honour just being nominated," she said, a mantra she had been repeating for the past few days in order to cushion the blow in case she did not win.
"Well in that case, would you do me the honour of accompanying you now, Ms. Nominee?" Tony helped Angela with her gossamer thin wrap and placed his hand on the small of her back, escorting her out the door.
They arrived at the banquet hall, taking in its dark oak wood paneling, graceful chandeliers and crisp white table clothes. The silverware glinted in the soft light, a small quartet playing in the corner added to the elegance of the evening.
"Wallace and McQuade is seated over there", Angela pointed to the table where her VP's and creative directors were seated.
"Our Queen arrives," Jim Peterson said, in a tone that made it clear he did not look upon Angela as any kind of queen. Tony glared at him. He hated Jim Peterson with good reason. The man had tried to spread smutty rumours about Angela, so jealous was he of her success. Tony had thrown him out of Angela's house previously and he would not hesitate to throw the man out of this banquet if need be.
"I see you brought your housekeeper with you," Jim taunted. "Will he be mixing drinks tonight?"
"Tony is my guest, and my friend," she replied, barely glancing at him.
"I see, friends. Isn't that special?"
Normally Angela would feel the need to defend her choice of date, but she could not stand her Vice President and already knew that he thought poorly of her. She was sure he actually believed the rumours he had started about her and Grant. And, she shuddered to think, those rumours could have been true if Tony had not intervened during his first night at her house all those months ago. She was extremely grateful to him and gave his hand a small squeeze under the table. She chose to ignore Jim and pointedly avoided looking at him. Given that the man wanted to be noticed, the best comeback was to act as if he was not even there. Being snubbed by the President would not sit well with him. For Angela did not care what anybody thought of her bringing Tony as her date. Tony was her true friend, her best friend, and the person who had saved her as she recovered from the most traumatizing events of her life. She wanted him by her side, and Jim could suck it.
"Shall we get drinks?" Angela turned to Tony, eager to escape Peterson's prying eyes.
Tony nodded and stood up. He pulled out Angela's chair. "This place is swanky and I'm really happy to be here with you, but .."
"But Jim Peterson," she finished for him once they were out of earshot.
"Yeah, I can't stand that guy, Angela. How can he still work for you after all that stuff he said about you at your party?"
"The board of directors loves him, and he's good at his job. I can only hope that having a woman for a boss will help change his archaic attitudes toward women."
Tony rolled his eyes. "That guy? No way."
"If that's the case, then I'm not doing my job properly," she told him, as they rounded up to the bar. "I'll have a Martini, dry, two olives please," she told the bartender.
"Uh same," Tony said. He turned to Angela, "Angela, you're the best boss, of either sex that I've ever had. You do everything right, but what you heard from Jim Peterson the night of the party was only the tip of the iceberg. I won't get into specifics, but suffice it to say that the man is vile." Tony refused to tell Angela that Jim accused her of giving each member of the Board of Directors a blow job in order to secure her presidency. That disgusting comment had pushed Tony to his limit the night of the party. He couldn't look at Jim Peterson without wanting to deck him. His presence was definitely a mood buster for his 'date' with Angela.
"How about we drink our martinis over here instead of at the table?" he prompted. He led her to an elegant upholstered sofa at the edge of the room. "No Jim Peterson here."
"Definitely sounds like a plan," she replied. They clinked their martinis together and sat on the isolated sofa. The other guests were all at their tables waiting for the dinner and ceremony to begin.
"So, I love this pen," Tony told her. He took it out of his jacket pocket and admired it again.
"You brought it with you?" she giggled.
"Yeah, well, I've never had a gold pen before. I want to keep a close eye on it," he told her. "It's very generous of you."
"It's the least I could give you, Tony. After everything you've done for me over the past months. You deserve more than a simple pen." She took the pen from his hands and looked at it. "My father gave me a gold pen when I started high school. It meant a lot to me, and to this day, I still use that pen. I hope you will use this one for a long, long time to come."
"This pen? Are you kidding? Why would I ever go back to using a plastic pen when I've got a gold one now," he enthused. "Besides, I really like the inscription here, Angela." He glanced up at her, his dark eyes smoldering with the love he felt for her but dared not express.
Angela shivered when he gazed into her eyes. He took the pen from her hand and their fingers touched briefly, sending a jolt of electricity up Angela's hand, or at least something that felt a lot like an electric shock, but pleasurable. She stared at him, not wanting to tear her eyes from his. Their eyes remained locked like this for what felt like a tiny eternity, and Tony tried to convey his feelings through sheer will.
"You two coming? Dinner is ready." One of Angela's creative directors had come looking for her. "You don't want to miss the starter salad, or the nominations, do you, Angela?"
"Thank you, Hank. We're coming."
Tony and Angela ignored Hank and lingered a moment longer, gazing into each other's eyes. The air around them was charged, and it gave them both goosebumps. Finally Hank's "ahem" woke them from their fervent trance and they rejoined the others.
Dinner was a sedate affair, typical banquet hall chicken served with assorted vegetables and roasted potatoes. Throughout the meal, Jim regaled the table with his exploits, imagined and otherwise. He also shot the occasional jibe Angela's way, but she remained regal and dignified, choosing to ignore him. Tony was impressed by how cool she acted in the face of blatant male chauvinism. He was proud of her and it took all his strength not to pummel Jim Peterson's face. He did, however, kick the older man's shin under the table when he delivered a particularly raunchy, sexist joke.
Throughout the dinner, Angela tuned out her Vice President, though she would have some harsh words for him at the office on Monday. Right now, she could not think about him or listen to his diatribe. She was too focused on the man sitting next to her. She looked over at Tony; he was merely cutting a potato in half, yet she sublimated an intense longing to touch him, to look into his eyes again, to kiss him. She had always found Tony extremely attractive, but never before had she wanted, no needed physical contact from him. Right now, it was taking all of her willpower not to throw her arms around him and kiss him senseless. Her feelings for him distracted her so much in fact that when the emcee began the awards ceremony, Angela's only thought was wondering how Tony's lips would feel against her own.
"Angela, they're talking about your commercial." Tony waved his hand in front of her face, her expression dreamy and distant.
"What?"
"Your nomination," he told her.
"Oh, right, yes, thank you." She came to sudden attention and sat up ramrod straight in her chair. She listened as all the commercials were nominated, including hers for Crunchy Crawlers.
"And the winner is …. Angela Bower for Crunchy Crawlers," the emcee announced.
"You won! Angela, you won!" Tony practically shouted. He clapped her on the shoulder and reminded her to stand up.
"What? I won? Really?!" Angela stood up and took a deep breath. She wanted to jump up and down and pulled Tony to stand with her. She held onto his forearms and did a small hop. "I won, Tony!" she exclaimed.
"Of course you did. Congratulations!" Tony pulled her into a quick hug and released her so she could claim her trophy. She headed to the stage on wobbly legs, a feeling of pride radiating from her.
"Thank you so much," she said once at the podium. "I couldn't have done it without the help of my art directors and vice presidents. It was a team effort so I share this trophy with them." She looked at each of her employees seated at the table with the exception of Jim Peterson. "And I have a special friend to thank tonight. Thank you for believing in me, Tony, and for all of your support. It means so much." She kissed her trophy and held it in the air. The room applauded and Angela descended the stage to return to her table.
"Well gee, it's so shiny," Tony commented when Angela returned to the table, trophy in hand. He held the gleaming award and admired it. "You deserve this," he told her.
"Tony, after the year I've had, you have no idea how good it feels to win something like this."
"If Michael could see you now, eh?"
Angela stiffened upon hearing her ex-husband's name. "Michael wouldn't care," she replied. "Or he would resent me for winning something in my career."
"I'm, uh, sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up." Tony busied himself with his napkin, folding and unfolding it.
"It's okay, Tony. It's okay because I no longer care what Michael thinks. He doesn't have that power over me anymore." And she knew her words were true. She was no longer subject to his moods, his tempers, or his fists. And she knew that Tony was extremely proud of her so she shared her victory with him. They sat through the rest of the awards ceremony and Angela cheered when her art director also won an award. She was pleased with how well the agency was doing under her leadership. When the awards were over, Wallace and McQuade had won a total of three trophies. Angela was delighted.
The little orchestra in the corner began playing its music louder now, not as an accompaniment to dinner but as the entertainment. People were encouraged to get up and dance.
"Well how 'bout it, Ms. Winner?" Tony said, his hand proffered to Angela. "How about a celebratory dance?"
"I would love to, er Mr. College," she bantered back. She took his hand and stood. Tony looked at her in awe, for beneath the flattering chandelier lights, the silver threads in her dress shone, and her skin glowed ivory. She was absolutely breathtaking. He led her onto the dance floor where a few couples had already begun dancing. The music was slow, so he held her in his arms, his hands resting on her gentle curves.
For her part, as soon as she was in Tony's arms, Angela's heart began to thrum faster than the musical beat. She glanced into his now dilated eyes, seeing the chandelier lights reflected in their warmth and she swallowed hard.
Tony's eyes met hers, and like before, began to lose himself in their dark depths. He could feel the heat flood his face so he pulled her toward him, holding her so her body was aligned against his. His arms trembled slightly as he held her and she snuggled into him, moving in a gentle rhythm, more slowly than the music. They no longer heard the music, for they were only aware of each other, bodies pressed together, hugging while slowly moving their feet.
"Er, could I have a turn with our big winner tonight?" Jim Peterson tapped Tony on the shoulder. "After the band returns from its break, of course," he laughed. "You two, tsk tsk," he joked, wagging his finger at them.
They pulled apart, surprised and then embarrassed. Angela looked at Jim and frowned. She did not want to dance with him, not after the things he had said about her. She wasn't clueless; she had heard rumours about his rumours and the mere thought of touching him to dance made her cringe. And cringing was not something she ever intended to do before a man again.
"No thank you, Jim," she replied. "I don't wish to dance with you. I may have to work with you, but that's where I draw the line." She tilted her face up and straightened her shoulders, grabbed Tony's hand and led him over to the sofa where they had had their pre-dinner martinis. Tony followed her, glanced back at Jim and smirked.
"So we're here again," he commented when they arrived at the sofa.
"A bit of privacy, away from that moron," she replied. She looked around and saw that nobody was near them. Right now, she wanted to be alone with Tony because she still felt a high from their dance, her senses imbibed with him and she didn't want to lose that. She kept holding onto his hand, and pulled him down to sit with her, never letting go. He looked down at their joined hands and gently rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.
"That was, er, that was some dance," he said, daring to find her eyes again.
She nodded. "I didn't hear the band leave."
"Me neither."
"Angela …." He started to say but did not know how to finish the sentence without declaring his love for her, and he wasn't sure she was ready to hear it.
"What is it, Tony?"
"I'm going to kiss you," he told her instead.
She nodded and leaned into him. Their lips met tentatively and they pulled apart. He saw only a summons in her languorous expression, her dark eyes dilated now. She bridged the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her. This time, there was no hesitation; their mouths joined naturally and they kissed each other with passion. They released each other for breath and dove in again, her hands in his hair and his on her bare upper back, caressing the soft skin there.
"What are we doing?" she murmured between kisses.
"I'm kissing you senseless," he whispered against her lips.
"I feel a bit faint," she said, breathless now.
"Then I'll catch you," he said. He pulled away from her and studied her flushed face. "You okay?"
"Ummmm," was the only coherent response she could give him. She plunged in again and joined her lips to his, tasting the sweetness and relishing their plump softness beneath hers, for Tony had extremely kissable lips.
Tony kept on kissing her back, delving into her, saturating himself with her scent and taste. He did not wish to ever stop. After several minutes, she pulled away and took a deep breath. "Ouf," she said. "That was, um …"
"Amazing," he finished for her. "I've wanted to do that for a long time," he admitted.
"You have? Oh Tony." She clasped his hands together and squeezed them tightly.
"I er, hope I didn't overstep," he said. "I wouldn't want you to regret that just now."
"I won't regret kissing you," she reassured him. And to bring her point home, she gently placed her lips against his and gave him one more, soft kiss.
"So …"
"So …"
At a complete loss for words, Tony took out his new gold pen. He turned Angela's hand, palm up and wrote on it.
"Are you giving me your number?" she teased.
"No. Read it."
She looked at her palm and read his words, 'I love you'. Her eyebrows rose and her mouth formed a soft O. Her eyes moistened and she knew she felt the same way.
"Is that okay?" he asked her, worried now.
She nodded, unable to speak for the lump that was forming in her throat. She took the pen from him and turned his hand upwards, and scribbled something on his palm.
Tony looked at his palm and saw the heart doodled there with their names inside of it.
"Does that mean what I think it means?" he asked.
"It means I love you too," she replied. She put her palm against his and held it there.
"So where do we go from here?" he asked.
"Wherever we want to, Tony. Wherever we want."