Ten weeks earlier
"Tony, I'm home!"
Angela closed the door behind her. She threw her coat and briefcase on the bench beside the door and pulled off her hat. She had quit work early because Tony and she had plans for tonight.
Tony rushed through the swinging kitchen door to welcome her.
"Oh, you really managed to come home early. Great! We can start right away," he said, handing her a dry Martini with two olives. It was Friday night, and mixing a Martini had become a tradition at the end of every working week.
"Give me a minute to change, then I'll join you in the kitchen."
"There's no need to hurry, Angela. We've got plenty of time."
Tony had lost a bet to Angela. One he'd never imagined he could lose. They had watched a boxing match together, and Angela had talked him into betting on who might come out as the winner. Being the sports fan he was, very familiar with the two opponents, their preliminary career and respective fighting stats, Tony had been absolutely sure about who would be winning this fight. But he had been wrong. Not only had Angela bet on the right horse, she had also predicted a knockout. Her stake had been an additional day off for him, his a home-cooked dinner of her choice. And of course she had opted for her favorite meal: linguine alle vongole. And tonight Tony was going to clear his betting debts.
It took Angela only a few minutes to jump out of her business attire and slip into a pair of slacks and a shirt. She tamed her blond mane with a ribbon, put some comfortable sneakers on her feet, which were still aching a little from being pressed into high heels for the entire day. Then she pulled a shopping bag out of the closet she had hidden there a few days ago. It contained an apron with an imprint saying, "Cooking Apprentice". She put it on, checked her appearance in the mirror, smiled at herself, and was ready for a fun evening with Tony. The kids were away for the weekend - all three of them. Jonathan was on a ski trip with his father, Sam at Bonnie's for a slumber party, and Mona had been invited by one of her countless admirers to a romantic getaway; she had signed herself out from work even earlier than Angela.
Angela scooted downstairs to meet Tony in the kitchen. When she pictured him at the stove she had to laugh. He was wearing a special apron as well, his saying, "While I have this apron on, I AM THE BOSS!" Looking down on herself she said, "It seems as if the roles are clearly defined."
It wasn't easy for Tony to stay earnest, but he tried to reply as sternly as possible, "Cooking linguine alle vongole is no picnic, Angela, it's a serious undertaking. And too many cooks spoil the broth. So I only want you to understand that this is my realm, and I'm the one who calls the shots."
"Very well, Sir!" Angela saluted. "What do you want me to do, Boss?"
"You start with peeling the onions and chopping them into small cubes."
"No problem at all," Angela replied.
"We'll see..." Tony mumbled to himself.
They both worked in silence for a moment. Angela really made an effort with the onions, but her cubes didn't come out as perfectly as if Tony had chopped them. Still, when she handed him the cutting board with the pile of onions, he smiled and praised her, "Good job." Then he brushed away a tear from her cheek with the corner of his apron. "Next time you use a sharper knife so chopping onions won't bring tears to your eyes."
"Thank you for the advice."
"You're welcome."
Both had fun in their interchanged roles. Tony showed Angela how to sauté the onions, then he added the red and yellow peppers as well as the garlic he had chopped while Angela had been busy with her task.
"Would you hand me the clams, please," Tony now asked, "they're in the sink, draining in the sieve."
Angela did as she was told - "Here you go, Master!" - , then looked over his shoulder at how he threw them into the frying pan. He added a bit of the clam juice and some sugar to the mixture.
In the meanwhile, a little metal object on the kitchen counter caught Angela's attention.
"What's this?"
"It's a pasta machine, Angela," Tony explained.
"We're making pasta from scratch?"
"Sure. My homemade pasta is legendary. The dish tastes so much better with homemade pasta instead of this second-class stuff you get in the supermarket. I prepared the dough this morning, and you're going to make linguine out of it."
"But I don't know how to operate this machine."
"Don't worry. I show you."
Tony approached Angela who stood at the counter looking down at the little chrome gadget in front of her. "Put your right hand here," he placed her right hand on the crank, "and your left hand here." He stood real close behind her now, his stomach pressed against her back. "Now you turn the crank like this," they turned it together, "and catch the linguine as it falls out of this slot here." He gently moved her other hand to where the pasta was supposed to come out of the cutter.
Angela swallowed hard. The blood was rushing in her ears. She didn't get too much of what Tony was explaining to her. She was too distracted because of his muscular body pressed against hers. She could feel his breath on her neck and his big strong hands on hers. His cologne was intoxicating. She was quite sure that it wasn't necessary to stand so close in order to explain how to use a pasta machine. He was flirting with her, grabbing at the opportunity to establish physical contact. She faced two possibilities now: she could push him back, destroying the heated moment, pointing out that they were cooking, eating and making small talk, or she could play along, showing him she was willing to participate in the flirting and bantering.
Angela opted for #2 without deliberately thinking about it. This was going to be real fun!
"Here, you have to spread some flour on the counter to prevent the pasta from sticking to it."
"Flour? Wouldn't that be a risky ingredient to use?" She was alluding to the night they had baked a chocolate birthday cake together in this very same kitchen. Back then, a little flour fight had gotten out of hand and had ended in their first kiss. If Tony hadn't proved to be the man of honor he actually was, they probably would've ended up doing something stupid.
"Not as long as we're sober, Angela!" With this he turned around and held out a glass. "Some wine?"
"Are you trying to stupefy me in order to...you know?"
"Of course not!" he protested. "We need to taste the wine. We don't want it to taste corky if we use it for the pasta sauce."
"I see..." Angela took the glass of white wine from his hand and took a tiny sip. "No. No corky taste!"
"Good," Tony said with a complacent grin on his face and poured some into the clam mixture. "Why don't you make the linguine, using the pasta machine like I showed you, and I'm going to set the table."
"Okay."
"Have an eye on the sauce and stir once in a while. We want it to simmer, not boil."
"Aye-aye, Sir."
Angela gave her best with the pasta, but the dough was so unwieldy, and what came out of the little machine didn't look like linguine at all. The noodles were either too long or too short, they were uneven and lumpy, and they stuck together - maybe she should toss more flour on them, but she was afraid to do so. She sweated, railed, and was annoyed by a wild strand of her hair which kept tickling her cheek.
"Easy, easy," she suddenly heard Tony whisper into her ear. That cologne intoxicated her once again. He put the strand behind her ear in a slow, tender movement, then he brushed some flour off her cheek with his thumb.
"Look, you take a pasta sheet and hold it up in the air like this, then you drape the bottom into the cutting roller. Slowly and evenly turn the crank and the linguine will come out perfectly cut. See! Put your hand here," he motioned her hand into the right position, "under the cut pasta, then put in down and sprinkle it with a little bit of flour. That's it!"
"Aw, you're so good, Tony!" Angela moaned.
"You bet I am!"
They gazed at each other awkwardly because of the ambiguity implied in the words they had just uttered.
"Uh," Tony cleared his throat, "I guess we should cook the pasta and finish the sauce."
He lifted the lid off a huge pot with readily salted and boiling water and put the linguine in, both his perfectly cut basket as well as Angela's indefinable lump. He masterfully chopped some parsley and added it to the clam mixture, followed by a little bit of whipping cream. He seasoned it with salt and white pepper, stirred once again, then held the wooden spoon up for Angela to taste.
He looked at her how she opened her mouth, how her lips embraced the spoon, and how she closed her eyes savoring her favorite pasta sauce.
"What do you say? Do you like it?" he asked eagerly.
"Mmmm, perfect. You've once again outdone yourself, Tony!"
"I didn't do this alone, you contributed your share! Don't hide your light under a bushel!"
"Well, let's say you managed to keep me from spoiling it."
"Nonsense! You're a good cook."
"Tony! I'm in advertising, remember? I recognize a bald-faced lie if I come across one, but thanks for trying to make me feel good."
"I love to make you feel good...uh,well...I meant...er, you know what I meant!"
"Yes, Tony, I know what you meant."
Angela cast Tony a warm smile and got one equally warm back. They tore their eyes away from the other and inhaled deeply. Boy, cooking really could be a sensual undertaking!
"Wellll...the pasta will be ready in a few minutes. Would you like to have a glass of wine? I'd propose our cooking wine, it'll go perfectly with the sauce."
"Yes, why not? Do we have time to change?"
"I don't think we need to change, but we should take our aprons off, don't you think?"
"Does that mean that you're not the boss any longer and I'm not the apprentice?"
"Yes, that's exactly what it means, Angela."
"So, we're two friends having dinner?"
"Exactly. I'm just paying my dues after having lost a bet."
"No need for fancy clothes then."
"No."
"No romantic mood whatsoever."
"Not at all."
Their voices were deceiving them though. What they had assured each other of just now had rather been like whistling in the dark. The kitchen was loaded with so much chemistry that Angela was afraid to light a match, for she thought the whole place might explode. And when she entered the living room, the entire setting reinforced the impression.
Tony had laid the table by the chimney and had already started a fire. The flickering flames were creating a cozy, homey atmosphere. He had dimmed the lights, put a white cloth on the table, and chosen the Wedgewood china as well as the lead crystal wine glasses. In the middle of the table, he had placed the silver candlesticks and had lit the candles. He had deliberately placed the table near the fire. On their last dinner for two, it hadn't been put that close, so they had been obliged to move after they had finished their meal. And although he was lacking an appendix to burst this time, he thought that getting rid of the necessity to move at some point of the evening might be nice. Moreover, it was a cold January night with snow piling up in the streets, so sitting by the fire would make them feel warm and comfortable.
"May I bring you to the table, Ma'am?" Tony said, holding his arm out to Angela.
"You may," she replied politely, and together they walked the few steps over from the kitchen door to the fire place. Tony pulled one of the chairs out and let Angela sit down. Then he took the wine bottle out of the cooler and poured two glasses.
"To Larry "The Steelhammer" Dooley, who lost a match he wasn't supposed to!"
"Well, I'm glad he lost," Angela commented Tony's toast.
"Because you don't have to give me an additional day off?"
"No, because had he won, I wouldn't have had the pleasure of sharing this evening with you."
"Ah, well..." Tony was flattered and the way Angela was looking at him let his heart beat faster.
Both enjoyed the meal and each other's company. They talked about Angela's work and Tony's exams, about where they might go on their next family vacation, Tony told Angela the latest neighborhood gossip, and Angela reminisced about how she had started her agency with his help.
After the plates had been cleared and the wine glasses emptied, Tony announced, "I'll get the dessert."
Angela was surprised. "We didn't prepare a dessert."
"No, we didn't. But did you really think I'd treat you a dinner without a dessert? I made my great grandmother's fabulous tiramisu. The recipe you like so much."
"The one which needs to sit for two days until it's done?"
"That's the one!"
"Oh Tony, you shouldn't have."
"Only the very best for my gir-...er, boss!" Tony jumped off his chair because of what had almost slipped out of his mouth. How come this evening felt more and more like a real date and not so much like an ordinary dinner with his best friend anymore? "Let me get the tiramisu." That would give him some time to cool down and take a deep breath.
When he returned with two bowls and two cups of espresso, he found Angela staring into the fire. Her face was lit by the flames, her eyes were shining, and her blond hair seemed to glow. Seeing her like this, what the neighbors were wondering about suddenly made sense. He had heard more than once through the grapevine that they were asking themselves how two healthy, attractive adults such as Angela and he could live under the same roof keeping their hands off each other. And observing Angela right now, Tony asked himself the very same question.
"Here you go, Angela," he said, placing a bowl and a cup in front of her.
"Thank you. This really looks wonderful." She put a spoonful in her mouth and savored the sweet, rich, chocolatey dessert with closed eyes. "Mmmm, delicious as always. Tony, I've been to quite a few gourmet restaurants in my life, but your tiramisu is outstanding. I've never tasted something as perfect as this elsewhere."
Angela almost always praised his food and leaving aside the breakfast, which to Tony's ongoing dismay only consisted of coffee and juice, she honored his cooking efforts with being such a good eater. For a woman with her slight figure it was rather uncommon, so he really appreciated it. He couldn't count the many times he had surprised her in the kitchen having a midnight snack or some ice-cream. The way she used to look at him at moments like these, stricken with guilt, trying to justify her cravings with the quality of his cooking, thereby putting the blame on him, always amused him.
"Would you like to have a glass of cognac to top our dinner off? I found an old bottle of Hennessy dusting the cabinet last week."
"Hennessy? That was Michael's favorite. Could that be still one of his? It's been a few years since he left this house."
"Maybe. I didn't buy it." He shrugged. "Want one?"
"Why not? A small glass won't harm, I guess."
After they had emptied their glasses, the amber-colored liquid warming their stomachs, Tony started to clear the table.
"Let me help you, Tony."
"Oh no! You stay here by the fire, I'll take care of the dishes."
"We cooked together, we ate together, and now we're going to do the dishes together," Angela said and tolerated no dissent.
"If you insist."
"I do."
And that was how it came that ten minutes later Tony and Angela were standing next to each other at the sink, their sleeves rolled up, Tony with his hands in the water cleaning the dishes, Angela with a kitchen towel in her hand drying them. With every dried item she walked over to one of the cabinets to stow it away. They chatted and laughed and enjoyed doing this together.
When Tony had cleaned the last piece, one of the lead crystal wine glasses, he put it on the counter for Angela to stow it away. He dried his hands, threw the towel on the little peg beside the sink, and turned around to check whether she needed any help.
She did need help. She wanted to put the glass where it belonged, and that was the topmost cabinet where they put the things they didn't use very often. But she couldn't reach that high. She stretched for the top shelf, balancing on one foot. Her short, tight shirt rode up and revealed her slender waist. Tony stared at Angela's alabaster skin and bootylicious butt. The appealing sight took away his breath, and he couldn't help but think back to the day he had gotten a glimpse of her entire naked front side. It had only been a split second, but the beguiling curves had been branded into his memory ever since. Reminiscing about this incident in combination with the entrancing sight right in front of his eyes now made his pulse accelerate. He swallowed hard. Then he took a few big steps and got behind her, pretending to help her with the glass, but actually only longing to be near her. Angela hadn't expected anything like this, so she swung around and found him standing in front of her so closely that their noses almost touched.
They stared at each other for a short moment, none of them moving or saying a word. Then the inevitable happened and their lips met almost on their own. Their subtle desire for each other and underlying affection, which had been part of the entire evening, was finally breaking ground and there was simply nothing they could do about it. Their tongues developed their own dynamics and greedily reached out for each other. It was just like the night they had baked chocolate cake, only that this time they weren't drunk.
Their kisses got deeper and deeper. Tony's skin prickled and his arousal made itself felt in his pants. He lifted Angela onto the counter and started kissing her throat and cleavage. He thanked God for the invention of the v-neck. He slipped his hands under the hem of her shirt and touched the waist that had bewildered him so much just a few moments ago.
"Tony," Angela moaned when she felt his warm hands caressing her waist, "we've got to stop this," negating her words right away by pulling his head close and fondling his hair.
"I can't, Angela!" he stammered in between kisses. He let his hands travel higher, up to her breasts. He kneaded them through the bra. It was a plain cotton bra, this much Tony was able to feel. Well, she hadn't anticipated for something like this to happen, went through his mind, she might have opted for something kinkier if she had. 'What am I thinking? What am I doing? I'm touching Angela's breasts!' Tony's brain was slowly melting, and by the time Angela started fumbling at the buttons of his shirt, it was a complete core meltdown.
There was no chance of thinking straight anymore, of wasting a thought about the consequences, of reassessing whether it was such a good idea to continue, all there was was arousal and desire. 'Not here,' was all Tony managed to decide. He didn't want to take her between pots and pans on the kitchen counter like he was humping some floozy. She was a classy lady and deserved better than that; they deserved better than that. So he gently lifted her down, took her hand, and dragged her out of the kitchen. At the landing of the stairs, he suddenly stopped mid-stride which made Angela bump into his backside. In a short moment of awareness, Tony realized that this was the point of no return, the last chance to call a halt. He turned around and looked at Angela, but her eyes spoke volumes: she wanted him as much as he wanted her. She reinforced her intentions with a passionate kiss, and so they stumbled upstairs, fumbling and kissing and moaning.
Having finally banished every doubt about what they were on the brink of doing, Tony took Angela's hand and made toward her bedroom door, but Angela stopped in front of his room.
"No, Tony. Not my bedroom. I want the man to take me to his place after a date."
"But my bed is smaller than yours, and my duvet isn't as fluffy."
"I don't care," she breathed and gently pushed him through the doorframe into his bedroom.
As soon as they were in Tony's room, Angela wasn't able to control herself any longer. She had fantasized about being taken to this room, and had wanted to knock on this door at night more than once in the past. Now that she was really in there, being touched and kissed by the man of her dreams, she was ready to let anything happen. And because both had been attracted to each other almost from the start, and because both had bottled up their feelings for each other so long, and because this entire evening had been like dancing on a tightrope, there was no way of stopping this.
They made love, more passionately and frenzied than they had ever imagined possible. It was deep, intense and primal in a way. They were able to let go of everything which had been withholding them until this night. There was no business contract, no surrogate family, no platonic friendship, and no cultural divide between them anymore. They felt free to dive into physicality and sensuality. And they did, their minds being far away from such off-turning issues as safer sex or birth control. Between pulling Angela's shirt over her head and ripping his off his body he had popped the question of a condom, but when Angela had mumbled something about an infertile phase of her cycle, he had forgotten all about it in an instant. The universe seemed to have shrunk to the here and now, nothing else mattered - neither what had happened yesterday nor what would happen tomorrow. The past, as well as the future, became unimportant to both of them. That was what made this experience so special, for both: rational, cerebral Angela had never been this uninhibited in bed, and proud, macho Tony had never physically wanted a woman so badly others might consider way out of his league.
They were about to share a night which would change their perception of each other forever.
Tony's body and mind were slowly pulled back from the lightness the previous evening and night had offered him into this day's cold reality. He fought back eagerly, trying to stay in that peaceful slumber where things simply were wonderful. Last night had been carefree and sweet, devoid of any dissonance or contradiction. It had consisted of pure lust and the satisfaction of needs, both physical and emotional. But now the weight of the given circumstances was squeezing his ribcage and threatened to smother him.
Angela was lying beside him, still embraced by the tender comfort of sleep. Her facial features were soft and relaxed, her breathing slow and regular. Her head rested on his shoulder, the rest of her body clung to his; her arms embraced his waist and her legs were wrapped around his. Why couldn't they stay like this forever? There was no place on this earth he would've preferred to be right now, and no other person he would've wanted to have next to him. This was perfection, but it was about to fall into pieces - inevitably.
Tony heard the snowplows outside, piling up even more snow. It was still dark, but he had no idea what time it was. Maybe 5 a.m. or 5:30. That would give him another hour or so until this night would definitely be over. Angela was an early bird just like him, she would wake up soon. What should he say to her? What would she want to hear from him?
What had this last night been anyway? The beginning of a love affair, a romance even? Or had it simply been sex, insignificant and hollow? No, the latter wasn't possible. He had had insignificant sex before and had never felt this way the next morning. This had been very significant, but in which way? He was afraid Angela might blame him for this, for not having stopped himself. The first time they had kissed in the kitchen, he had acted like a gentleman and had withstood her approaches because they hadn't been serious. But last night Angela's approaches had been damned serious. Rejecting her would've probably been less gentlemanly than reciprocating. Well, he would find out soon what she thought about all this.
If Tony only knew what he himself thought about all this. How could something be so good and induce so much angst at the same time? How could something feel so wrong and then again so right? Why had Larry "The Steelhammer" Dooley only lost this fight?
He could squirm and writhe as much as he wanted, this needed to be talked out. There was no way he could sneak out of this bed and pretend that last night hadn't happened. Not to mention the fact that this was his bed. Angela had had the greatness to share his narrow bed for their lovemaking instead of taking him to her four-poster master bedroom luxury lady bed as if he were some boy toy. He wasn't anything like that to her, he knew. She had never treated him as a domestic, and she definitely didn't see a kept man in him. Maybe things would be easier if she did. They could finally establish a relationship half their neighborhood suspected they were having anyway; no feelings would be involved, nobody would get hurt. But Angela wasn't that kind of woman. She was honest and sincere, a person of integrity and decency. She would never take advantage of another human being, let alone of an employee. And he was her employee, not matter how you looked at it. Angela treated others with respect and politeness, this was exactly what scared Tony to death. That what they had had last night was nothing but casual sex to her was simply unimaginable. Her intentions were serious, maybe too serious for him to handle.
Tony's shoulder hurt, the one which had been injured during his baseball career, the very same Angela had rested her head on. He moved his upper body, just a little to make Angela put her head on the pillow, but he woke her up instead. When she opened her eyes, they fell on Tony and instantly started to shine.
"Good morning," she said in her mellifluous voice.
"Uh, morning," he replied clumsily.
Angela sensed Tony's tension right away, although she wasn't completely awake yet.
"You okay?"
"Well, yeah."
"You don't sound especially convincing." She disentangled herself from him, even though she couldn't easily let go of his body. She propped her head up on her arm and dug deeper, "Is something the matter?"
"I don't know. Is it?"
Angela narrowed her eyes and frowned.
"If you're asking me, Tony, I'm fine, but I have the feeling something is bothering you. Have I done something wrong? Are you...uh...disappointed in me? As...a lover, I mean?"
"No! No, no, no! Not at all, Angela! Don't even think that this might be the problem. It was...great! Uhm...you were great."
"But there is a problem."
Tony's awkwardness was palpable. He sat upright and leaned his back against the header of the bed. He stroked his hair. He had no idea how to start the conversation.
"Tony, I didn't expect this either. At some point, things seem to have gotten out of hand last night."
"So, you're also surprised that it happened?"
"Sure."
"Oh, good!" he exclaimed somewhat relieved, and it was exactly that display of relief which hit Angela to the core. He wasn't at ease with what had happened, this much she could already tell. For her part, she felt uplifted after having made love to Tony, at least she had been until this minute. His reticence and taciturnity spoke volumes and told her that his feelings differed substantially from hers. When she had drifted off into that peaceful slumber last night, after having been given the sweetest pleasures, she had somehow expected to wake up to a wonderful new life with Tony. But her hopes were being crushed by the aloof way he was treating her now.
"What do you propose we do now?" Angela asked openly, desperately trying to hide her expectations.
"I don't know. We could look at it like a memorable one-off experience."
"A one-night stand?" Angela was dumbfounded. She had expected he would ask her for time, that he would prefer to take things slowly in order to adapt to the new situation step by step. But it turned her world upside down that he was willing to chalk this heavenly night up as something which didn't need to be repeated. Had she really misinterpreted his signs that much? Had she been nothing more than an object of sexual desire for him? And now that he had slept with her, his interest in her waned? Was he just like so many other men? Even her husband had eventually lost interest in her.
"If you want to call it that," he said, his voice lacking emotion.
No, Angela didn't want to call it that. Not at all.
Her heart shattered into a thousand pieces, and she needed to muster up all her self-control in order not to burst into tears. Could it be true that although Tony had been the most giving and devoted lover last night, he hadn't really been into it? Was it possible that he had only pretended his yearning for her? Had the sweet words he had whispered into her ear been empty, shallow phrases he told every woman in bed? And hadn't calling out her name the moment his entire body had been shaken by ecstasy been a sign of his adoration? Could he really not be in love with her and make love to her like he had last night?
Angela felt very naked all of a sudden. Her body was naked, but she also felt her heart and soul being exposed and unprotected. She pulled the duvet up and stuck it tightly around her upper body and under her armpits. She longed for a garment to put on her body and cover her vulnerability, but her clothes were scattered throughout Tony's room and out of reach. The same applied to his clothes. That might be the reason why he also stayed in bed, keeping every body part from his chest downward covered, carefully keeping a big enough distance from Angela in order not to touch her. What she interpreted as reluctance was nothing else than self-protection on Tony's part. He knew that the moment he felt her warm, soft, naked skin, he'd be aroused once again. And that he wasn't able to control himself once he was aroused by her had been proven last night.
"Any idea how to solve this…problem?" Angela now asked, meaning their present dilemma of how to leave this bed in dignity as well as how to move on with their lives.
"You close your eyes and I get my clothes, then I give you privacy to get dressed," Tony answered at least one of her questions.
Angela let out an uneasy, mocking laugh. "This is ridiculous, Tony! We saw each other naked last night. We had sex, remember?"
"I do, Angela. But that was last night, and things are...different this morning."
"Why do they have to be different?"
"Because you are you, and I am me," Tony tried to explain.
"So you really want to pretend that last night never happened?"
"Angela, let's be reasonable here! What would we tell the kids? That we share a bedroom from now on? And besides, do you really want to be in a relationship with someone who cleans your toilet? I can picture the faces of your Country Club friends when you introduce your new boyfriend, the housekeeper and student. It won't work, Angela!" He shook his head and repeated dejectedly, "It just won't work."
"If you say so."
Angela had a different view on their relationship, but what good would it do either of them if she voiced her dreams and hopes now? Tony had decided for both of them, and he was being very clear and resolute. He wanted to go back to their platonic friendship. He wanted to forget what had happened, or at least he wanted to go on as if it hadn't happened. She didn't know whether she'd be able to do that. She'd be seeing Tony every day like before, but from now on without being allowed to fantasize about them anymore, and she wasn't sure whether this wouldn't eventually kill her. But did she have a choice at all? If she wanted to protect herself, she would have to expel him out of her life. But it would mean she'd destroy their family. She'd deprive Jonathan of his beloved surrogate father as well as Samantha of her home. And she'd deprive herself of the closest friend she ever had. No, firing him definitely wasn't an option.
"So, are we back to normal then?" Tony asked and turned his head to look at Angela. Until then he had avoided her eyes.
When Angela met his gaze, she read resolve in his eyes, but not only, there was something else she couldn't quite identify. It didn't seem to be regret or rejection, it rather looked like sorrow and apprehension. And distress, there definitely was distress in them, some deeply buried pain she couldn't find an explanation for. She asked herself whether he would ever confide in her about what he was trying to hide at this moment. He might if one day they succeeded in returning to their extraordinary friendship despite having crossed a line last night.
But was it really possible to go back to normal? They had opened Pandora's Box last night, and Angela wondered whether they could really deny the consequences. She didn't even know yet what the consequences consisted of, but she was afraid they might be serious with respect to their relationship. Tony had once said that making love would mean they lost each other as friends. His wish to not lose her friendship had kept him out of her bed the night of their first kiss so many years ago. He had also said that if they ever did lose each other as friends he wanted her to remember it. Well, that much he had accomplished. She would never forget her one and presumably only night with Tony. Even more so, she would treasure it, lock the memory in her heart like a piece of jewelry in a chest. At least she had been given that single night, it could be worse. Many women never had the chance to be together with a lover like Tony. It was something that would help her through rough waters whenever they occurred.
So Angela finally agreed and uttered the words which left a bitter aftertaste on her tongue: "Back to normal."
"Wonderful."
Tony's childlike relief touched Angela. He acted like a little boy who was told by his mother that everything would be okay. How she loved this man! This man, who now motioned her to close her eyes so he could sneak out of the bed he had shared with her and gather his clothes. She couldn't prevent herself from smiling when she put her hands in front of her eyes, parting the fingers a little bit just to get one last glimpse of his gorgeous butt. She should've better kept herself from peeking because it felt like a stab in her heart. This would be damned hard. Living with Tony the way they had used to would be like aspiring to a goal she knew was out of reach.
But she'd manage.
Somehow.