A/N: Thank you for your patience. I hope my fellow Americans had a great Labor Day Weekend!

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Closure I

Saturday, December 22, 1990

Andy stirred half-and-half into his coffee and looked at his watch. It was 6:51am. Several weeks earlier, he had traded shifts with a colleague to ensure he wasn't on call the night of Christmas Eve, and he was now regretting it. What if Angela wanted to make up? What if she was pregnant and his first act as a father was to prioritize work? They only had an hour to spend together before he had to leave.

He shouldn't have called her crazy. She was, but he never should have said it. Anyone that wild in bed was bound to be off her rocker. It was a price he was willing to pay. He thought back through his romantic history. None of the women he had dated previously were as self-sufficient and successful, and the truth was that none of them were as attractive.

Finally, at 6:59, Angela opened the door and looked around, waving once she saw Andy in one of the narrow, two-person booths. He stood to greet her, not quite landing a kiss on her cheek before she abruptly sat down and slid across the vinyl. "Good morning. What can I get you folks?" a harried older woman asked.

Back in Fairfield, Tony absently flipped a postcard between his fingers while the coffee brewed. The kids wouldn't be up for a while, but Angela had left before he got back from his run. She was with Andy, probably in a neutral location, telling him that she wasn't pregnant. What would that do to their relationship? How did they even have a relationship after everything that had come out in therapy?

The coffee finished brewing, and Tony poured himself a cup. He heard the newspaper thump against the front door and decided to do a little reading on current events to distract himself. When he carried his mug out of the room, he left behind the postcard.

There were several articles about the Gulf War and an interesting feature about a new technological development called a website. Tony was fascinated by the idea that some day you could use your computer and phone line to see information in other places.

Mona entered the kitchen looking for coffee and maybe something to eat. What she found on the counter was a postcard. On the front, a fleur de lis pattern with pink text reading "Pretty!" On the back "PiP Enterprises" and a local address. The address was typed, and the message read "Tony" in large handwritten letters, followed by a pre-printed block: "Your back-ordered item is now in stock. Please come in soon to ensure availability."

How intriguing, she thought, that Tony had found a specific item he wanted to buy at the Pretty in Pink Lingerie Boutique. Their mailers were discreet, but Mona had received many gifts from the shop and recognized their signature pattern.

Angela read the Bridgeport Flyer Diner nametag. "Good morning, Karen. I'll have coffee and French toast."

"Mediterranean omelet," Andy requested. Karen jotted something on her pad of guest checks and departed as quickly as she had appeared.

"Thank you for meeting with me. I think we need to talk."

"It's good to see you, Angela."

She brushed off the pleasantry. "Andy, I'm sorry for the way I left. I lost my temper and said some things that were misleading."

"I knew you weren't cheating on me. Let's just forget all about that."

"It's true that I didn't sleep with Tony."

"Thank god."

"But what we did definitely counts as cheating in my mind. I won't give you details, but there was intimate contact. That was wrong, and I'm sorry."

"All is forgiven, Angela. You had a momentary lapse of judgment. I'm just relieved there's no possibility that the baby is his."

"I'm not pregnant, Andy. And I'm very glad of that fact because lately, I haven't been doing a very good job of being there for the children I already have."

"Child."

"Sam may be eighteen, but she still needs parenting."

"She's not yours, though."

"That's between her and me, Andy. Even Tony can't comprehend the amount of mother-daughter drama we've been through to get to this point, but he does accept that we each have a special place in the other's life. Just like he has with Jonathan."

"I should have spent more time with your son before I asked you to move in."

"Andy, I was never going to move in. Jonathan was never going to become attached to you. I didn't want him to because I wasn't that serious about this relationship."

"French toast for the lady, and a Mediterranean omelet. Coffee refill?"

"Yes, please," Angela answered while Andy shook his head and waved his hand flat over his mug.

"Looks good," Andy said when the server walked away. He was stalling their conversation without a plan.

Angela cut into her French toast. It was mediocre, but she feigned enthusiasm. There was one item left on her agenda, and it was sensitive.

"You said you were tested. Can I see your results?"

"Yes, of course. I have a copy at home. Why don't you come over this evening? I have a couple of your things to return." Andy was hopeful. If he could just get her into bed, he could fix everything.

Jonathan came downstairs around 8:30, just as Angela was returning from breakfast.

"Good morning, honey!" she called up to him as she hung her coat.

"Good morning, dear!" Tony called back, looking over his newspaper briefly. He cringed when he saw Jonathan and hid behind the pages again.

"Mom, can you take me to watch Sandi's Christmas program?"

"I don't know, darling. I'm going to need a little more information."

Tony folded up the paper and listened.

"She's playing with a chamber orchestra in a gallery at Yale at 12:30 today."

"Oh, sure I can take you. Do you need money for a ticket?"

"There are no tickets. It's free for whoever shows up."

"Maybe we could all go," Tony said, walking over to Jonathan and putting a hand on his shoulder. He captured Angela's gaze and held it.

"That sounds lovely," she said, feeling immobilized by his brown eyes.

Jonathan squeezed out from between them. "Thanks, Mom. I'll tell Sam."

Angela took a step forward, filling the space. She couldn't stop looking into Tony's eyes. He set a hand on her arm, and she dropped her focus to his lips. Then he asked, "How was breakfast with Andy?"