A/N: More romance than a Hallmark movie! Which couple is your favorite?

Chapter Fourteen: Wedding Bells

Wednesday, December 31, 1986

"Come on, girls!" Mona yelled from the entryway. "It's time to get pampered!"

Sam came bounding down the stairs first. "Ooh, this is gonna be fun!" she said, turning back to look up at Angela. "I missed out on the mani-pedis before you and Dad got married," she reminded her stepmom.

"Just manicures today, sweetheart! It's much easier going to a wedding as a guest than it is being part of the bridal party."

"Speak for yourself. I want these hooves smoother than a baby's butt," Mona said.

The ladies nearly ran into Tony and Jonathan as they crossed paths through the front door. The guys had just picked up their freshly tailored and pressed suits from the mall, and Tony hung them from a hook by the mirror. "Have a nice time, girls," Tony said, giving Sam a kiss on the cheek and Mona a playful shoulder bump. Angela hugged Jonathan goodbye, then pulled Tony against her by his leather belt. Their bodies aligned, and their foreheads joined.

"I can't wait to start another year with you," she told him, allowing her nose to nudge his.

He reveled in the feel of her breath against his lips. "I thought 1986 was going to be our year," he teased, going in for the briefest of kisses. Her whimper was nearly inaudible, but it sent a rush of desire through him.

"It was the best, but 1987 will be even better," she whispered, connecting their mouths again.

"Good lord, people. When will you give it up?" Mona complained.

"You and Ricky are just as bad," Sam argued.

"We're worse, but only when we're alone," she responded, hooking her daughter with one arm and dragging her out of the passionate lip-lock. Tony handed over the keys to the Jeep and closed the door behind them. The trio walked toward the curb and got into the vehicle.

"So you think he's gonna pop the question tonight?" the teen asked, popping her head between the front seats as the engine turned over.

"What?" Angela shrieked, letting the already warm Jeep idle. "You think Ricky's going to propose?"

"I do," Mona said with a wide smile. "I just wonder which ring will be on my finger at midnight."

"You think she's gonna say yes?" Tony asked Ricky in the kitchen.

"I have a good feeling," he replied. Mona had been positively beaming while they shopped for rings the day after Christmas, and her bedroom behavior was remarkably tender as of late.

"You're a brave man," Tony said. "I was lucky enough to be on drugs when I proposed."

"Just because I've resolved to go through with it doesn't mean I'm not scared."

"Don't drop the frankincense or throw up on the baby Jesus," Jonathan said on his way in from outside.

"Ha!" Tony said while Ricky tried to decipher the odd statement in his head. "How's that new South American tree lizard doing?"

"Great! I found six spiders to feed him. Gotta go upstairs before I lose any of them," he said, peeking into the translucent container he'd brought out to the garage. "One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Too late," he shrugged.

Mona went to her apartment immediately upon returning from the nail salon. Her bag was already packed, but she wanted to throw in a few last-minute additions. Ricky was inside, spending time with Libby. She could hear him faintly, telling the pug that she was a "pretty, pretty princess" and "the smartest little dog" he knew. She opened the door.

"I'll be ready to go into the city in five minutes," she exaggerated.

"So, half an hour?" he confirmed. "Check-in doesn't start until four, so take your time. We'll go for a walk. Right Libby? You wanna go outside?" He used the same voice with animals as he did with his infant grandchild. She couldn't wait for their upcoming visit to Atlanta, when she would finally meet Kelly, Chandler, Cory, and little Baldwin.

Michael stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He put a dollop of styling cream in his palm and began distributing it through his damp hair. The mirror was obscured with steam, but that was preferable to facing his unclothed reflection. "It's only a first date," he told himself, trying to calm his nerves.

Frankie's colleague was hosting a New Year's Eve party, and she had a plus-one. It wasn't an ideal way to get to know a woman, but it had its advantages. He felt confident making small talk with white collar types, whether the topic was sports or theatre. They'd politely laugh at his jokes and listen intently to his stories from the field. He'd rib them just enough to create a false sense of camaraderie.

As for his date, he'd have an excuse to dress up and make a good impression. If there was mutual interest, he'd choose a more relaxed setting for a second date. The ten minutes he and Frankie had spent chatting at Mrs. Rossini's had piqued his curiosity about her. She seemed to be very intelligent, hard-working, and focused on her goals, but she was also family-oriented and liked children. It was important that Jonathan be comfortable around any woman he dated seriously.

"It's only a first date," he said to himself again. It was difficult not to let his thoughts go down the bridal path. His therapist had advised him to take a break from dating and not go on the rebound from Heather the way he had after his first divorce. Consequently, it had been months since he had enjoyed the company of a woman. Casual encounters were just not his cup of tea.

He removed his towel and used it to clear a small circle from the mirror. A close shave was important for the inevitable kiss at midnight. Would it be perfunctory, or something more? There was no way Frankie was this anxious. Or was she? The woman projected enough confidence to border on arrogance. Perhaps she was actually insecure, underneath her perfect bone structure, great figure, and high IQ.

"This ain't no hot-sheet motel," Mona said, stepping into a suite overlooking Times Square. She was drawn toward the floor-to-ceiling window.

"I want tonight to be special," Ricky said, coming up behind her. "We have three hours before the party starts."

"Let me slip into something more comfortable," she said.

While she took her bag into the bathroom, he quickly undressed and put on a robe. When she didn't come out after a minute, he looked in the mini bar. There were splits of champagne, chilled white wine, gin, vodka, rum, and tequila, plus a variety of mixers. He grabbed a mini bottle of gin and a can of tonic, making two weak cocktails. They had many hours of celebration in front of them, and he didn't want either of them to be impaired.

As the carbonated beverages fizzed, he decided to turn some music on. Luckily, the public radio station was playing light jazz. He spun the dial to a moderate volume and heard the bathroom door open. Mona strode out in a green negligee with marabou trim and matching mules.

"You're a vision," he told her.

"Tell me about it," she said. "You're not so bad yourself."

"Have you ever done it looking out on the city?" he asked.

"Not with you," she answered honestly, pulling on the tie to his robe.

Wendy proudly carried out her duties as Isabel's matron of honor, while Paul's identical twin brother Doyle served as his best man. It was a brief ceremony, aside from a "moment of reflection" that confused onlookers into whispered questions and hushed speculation. Afterward, Sam and Jonathan were led to the kids' table by Marci. Angela and Tony got appetizers and sat with Wendy at Table Six.

"Have you met Isabel's cousins from Buffalo?" Wendy asked them, jerking her head toward their tablemates.

"Fred and Ginger. Not 'thee' Fred and Ginger," the man joked. His wife chuckled as though she hadn't heard it a million times before.

"Tony and Angela are newlyweds, too," Wendy told them. With the introduction complete, she stuffed a piece of rumaki in her mouth. The liver was dry, and she waved down a server with a tray of champagne. He offered a flute to each of the five guests.

"Could I get an iced tea?" Angela asked.

"Be careful with the caffeine," Tony advised when the server went to retrieve the beverage.

"I'll only have two glasses," she promised. "I'm driving, and I need to make it to midnight."

"You're letting your wife drive?" Fred asked incredulously.

"I've got a guaranteed designated driver for nine months!" Tony said with a smile. Fred and Ginger stared at him, not understanding the implication.

"I'm fifteen weeks pregnant," Angela clarified.

"Oh!" the couple said together, still looking rather blank.

Wendy widened her eyes at Angela, sending a silent signal of her annoyance with Fred and Ginger. She noticed the server returning with iced tea and downed her glass of champagne. Herb had declined to attend the event. Instead, he was planning to sit at home with a book until Wendy called for a ride. "Could I get another?" she asked, holding up the empty flute.

"I'd like some, as well," a dark-haired man with a sad plate of hors d'oeuvres requested. "Would you mind if I join you?" he asked the table. "I was seated with the other singles, and it's pretty pathetic over there."

"You think the married couples are a better option?" Wendy deadpanned.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is your husband sitting here?" he asked.

"I'm on my own," she said. "Make yourself comfortable."

"Geoffrey Wells," he introduced himself. "Geoffrey, with a G."

"Wendy Wittner. This is Tony and Angela Micelli and Fred and Ginger…I'm sorry, I didn't catch your last name."

"Bland," Ginger said.

"Figures," Wendy said under her breath.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all."

"So, how do you spend your time, Geoffrey-with-a-G?" Wendy asked. If Herb was going to bail, she could enjoy an evening flirting and dancing with a handsome stranger.

"I practice law. Mergers and acquisitions, mostly."

"How interesting!" Angela said. Tony looked up, hoping the man hadn't taken his wife's sincere remark as sarcasm.

"It really is!" he replied earnestly. Wendy rolled her eyes at Tony.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked her, standing up and holding out a hand. She was obviously in need of an ear for her grievances. Besides, she could be bitingly funny. It was bound to be more entertaining than sitting with the Blands.

"Yes!" she yelped, allowing him to pull her to her feet. They spun around a couple of times and looked back. Angela was nodding intently across the table at Geoffrey as he droned about some legal issue or another.

"Sometimes I can't believe how lucky I am to have found that perfect combination of attractiveness, intelligence, sensitivity, and humor," Tony said. "And other times I can't believe I ended up with a geek."

"You love her, though," Wendy said.

"More than anything," he confirmed, smiling in the direction of his wife. Angela felt eyes on her and smiled back, blowing him a kiss.

"I don't think Herb and I are going to make it," she confided. "He's totally checked out."

"Really? I'm sorry to hear that. Do you think he's depressed?"

"Maybe. He's definitely bored with me. God knows I'm bored with him."

"Well, I like Herb, but maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing for you two to go your separate ways."

"I can't believe I'm thinking about divorce at a wedding," she said, biting back tears. "Jenny deserves to have a happy home."

"Hey, I may be way off base, but I'm not sure she has a happy home with you and Herb together."

"I thought things were tolerable, but then Paul and Isabel got together. And then you and Angela came back home. It's hard to see couples who are really in love."

"Wendy, we're all on our second marriages. Maybe you and Herb aren't meant to be together forever. Maybe there's someone else out there for you. And you know what else? We all have children. When you find the right partner, Jenny will just have another person who loves and cares for her."

"You're right, Tony. I'm going to make my New Year's Resolution to leave Herb. Thanks!" Wendy grabbed another flute of champagne off a passing server's tray and went back to Table Six.

He stood there stunned for a second, wondering if he had been too persuasive and pushed the Wittners into ruin. Wendy was leaning over to say something in Geoffrey's ear. He smiled broadly and stood up to dance with her.

Tony sat down with Angela. "I think I just convinced Wendy that she should get divorced," he said.

"Really?" she asked, looking entirely unconcerned. "Geoffrey is so great. He's going to do a complimentary review of our business formation documents and give us his recommendations on risk management!" she said excitedly.

"So, Tony, how do you support your wife's little diversions?" Fred inquired.

"What?" Tony asked. "You mean her advertising career?"

"Ha! If you want to call it that. I'm sure you're the one providing a steady income," he said. Ginger nodded along in agreement.

"It's so great that your husband lets you work, Angela. I had to quit when Fred and I got married. We felt it was important to have someone at home taking care of the children."

"Actually, I'm a college student. Angela's the big success. She's the one supporting our whole family," he said, feeling a bit dejected.

"But she's pregnant?" Ginger asked him. "Maybe you should have been more careful and waited until you found a good provider," she said, leaning toward Angela.

"Tony is a good provider! Our baby is very much planned and wanted. We waited until we were able to give her a wonderful life without sacrificing our other children's wellbeing," she protested. "Come on, honey. Let's dance," she said, dragging him away from the table.

"You don't have to defend me like that," he said, taking her in his arms. "Fred and Ginger are just saying what a lot of people must think."

"I don't give a fig newton what anyone thinks! I know you're the best husband and father this side of the Mississippi."

"Only this side?" he asked, holding her a little closer.

"Whichever side you're on, you're the best," she said with a grin. "I love you, Tony, and there's nobody else I'd want to have this baby with."

"I love you, too, Angela. I just wish I didn't feel like such an embarrassment."

"Are you kidding? You're the sweetest piece of arm candy a girl could have." She leaned in to kiss him, taking his upper lip between her own. He tilted his head and slid his tongue across her bottom lip.

"They're totally making out!" Marci said, pointing out the couple to all the other young people at her table.

"Nothing new," Sam said. "You should have seen them earlier."

"I still don't get it," Jonathan said. Jenny gave him a long look, and he felt a strange tingle. "Do you want to dance?" he asked, speaking without thinking.

"Alright," she agreed.

"And that was the day that I learned giraffes can kick sideways and not just backwards."

Three of the partners from Frankie's Wall Street law firm exploded in guffaws. "Where'd you find this guy, Candino?"

"Michael is a friend of a friend," she explained. "Or more of a friend of the family of a friend of the family."

"You were set up?" another partner asked.

"By this old neighbor of my father's in Brooklyn. A pettegola, he'd call her."

"A yenta," Michael translated helpfully.

"Oh, are you from Brooklyn, too?" the third partner asked, assessing Frankie's date.

"No, I'm a native of Connecticut."

"Whereabouts?" one of the partners asked. Michael was beginning to get whiplash from the three finely dressed men.

"A little town near Stamford." He preferred not to think about the fact that his parents still had a home in New Canaan, only a short drive from Fairfield.

"Ah. And where did you get your education?" It was no longer clear which of the partners was speaking.

"Here and there," Michael answered, feeling a panic attack coming on. "Hey, I'm not under oath, am I?" he joked.

"I think that's enough of the cross-examination," Frankie said. "Would you like to get some air?" she asked, noticing the beads of sweat forming on his brow.

"Sure," he answered gratefully.

They stepped through the French doors onto the terrace. "They're a little much," she said, apologizing for the inquisition. "You don't have to worry about impressing them with your credentials. Lots of smart people didn't go to Harvard," she assured him.

"It's just awkward," he explained.

"Most of the guys I've dated went to the school of hard knocks," she chuckled. "You must have had some college, though?" Her hand went to his chest, and he drew in a breath.

"You really want to know?" he asked. She nodded thoughtfully. "I did my undergrad in Anthropology at Yale and my Master's in Environmental Engineering at Brown."

"Wow, I didn't realize I had an academic on my hands," she said. Her wording clued him into the fact that both of her hands were on his shoulders, while his own hung lamely at his sides. He hastily stuffed them into his coat pockets and continued telling the story of his aimless youth.

"When I still couldn't figure out what I wanted to do with my life, my parents persuaded me to study Journalism at Columbia."

"Seems like you eventually figured it all out," she said, sliding her hands onto the back of his neck. He wasn't so sure, but her vote of confidence was intoxicating. "One more question."

"Yeah?" Michael choked out, his voice nearly cracking as it hadn't done in nearly three decades.

"Do I have to wait for midnight for you to kiss me?"

"Oh, um, no?" he stammered. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure Frankie could hear it. She stood on her toes and tilted her face to his as she tugged him down. He tried to pull his hands out of his pockets, the right coming to her hip, while the left got hung up on his watch. The kiss was over by the time he wiggled it free.

"I'll let you take the lead next time," she told him, turning to go back inside.

After changing into formalwear and taking the elevator up to the top floor, Mona and Ricky had a leisurely and luxurious dinner. Their gin and tonics had been neglected for other, more adult, activities, followed by what Mona called a "disco nap."

The sommelier recommended an excellent 1970 Bordeaux to pair with the confit de canard and wild porcini mushroom risotto. "This is the best meal I've ever had," Ricky said. "And the best view."

Mona sipped her wine and looked over his shoulder through the wall of windows. There was live music until one in the morning, but she wanted to go back to their suite as soon as the ball had dropped.

A waiter brought a covered plate over and set it on the table. "Dessert," he announced, though they hadn't ordered anything. She put her hand on the cover before the waiter could reveal what was inside. It had to be a ring box, she thought. Her stomach fluttered with butterflies.

"Could I have an espresso with lemon?" she asked, stalling.

"Of course. Would you like an espresso, sir?"

"No, thank you," Ricky said. He reached across the small table and took her hand. "Mona, if you don't want it, you don't have to have it," he assured her.

"Don't you want it?" she asked nervously.

"I don't know what to expect," he said, "but I'm sure it's amazing. Why don't you just try it?"

"Your espresso," the waiter said, putting a tiny cup in front of her. Before she could stop him, he whipped the metal cover off the plate. An assortment of miniature desserts was arranged before them, and not one of them had a diamond sticking out of it.

"Oh," Mona said, realizing that she was disappointed.

"Come on, sugar. It's everything you could have asked for," Ricky told her.

"You're right. I'm going to taste everything," she promised, picking up her dessert fork.

Frankie pulled Michael into the guest bedroom where all the overcoats had been laid out. They'd had a chance to talk some more, mingle some more, drink some more, and then he'd whispered in her ear, "I'm dying to kiss you again."

One of the partners' wives and a junior associate stumbled out of the ensuite bathroom. He left the bedroom first, straightening his tie and checking his zipper. "You never saw this," she said, wagging her finger at them and nearly knocking herself out on the door frame as she departed.

"She's always drunk," Frankie said. "I don't think she even knows that I work at the firm."

Michael cupped her face and moved in slowly, giving her a chance to decline his advance. She held still and allowed him to close the gap and press his lips against hers. "I like kissing you," he told her.

"Good. We should keep doing it," she said, feeling her breath shorten.

"Can I take you out next year?" he asked.

"I don't know if I can wait that long. Why don't you come home with me tonight?"

"Let's get to know each other better first, Frankie. How about dinner on Friday?"

"Excuse me, everyone," the band leader said, taking the microphone out of the stand. "Could I have your attention for a special presentation?"

Mona turned toward the band. Ricky hadn't returned from the restroom yet. She hoped he wasn't about to miss anything good.

"There is a young couple here tonight. The gentleman approached me earlier and told me about his girlfriend. She's a recent college graduate, and they've been going out for over a year, so the gentleman thinks it's time they officially share their life going forward."

She felt a pang of envy. Some other couple, probably quite a few other couples, were getting engaged tonight. She thought it was her turn.

"Miss, there's a problem. Could you please come with me?"

"Oh dear!" Mona jumped to her feet and followed the maître d' toward the restrooms. "Is it my boyfriend? Is he alright?" she asked in a state of alarm.

"Please come to the stage, Ricky McEvoy and Mona Robinson!"

"What?" Mona asked. Ricky stepped out from behind a pillar and took her arm, leading her across the five yards between them and the stage. He confidently took the mike and started his speech.

"Mona, you were not an easy person to get to know. I think you did everything you could to keep me at a distance." Nervous giggles came from around the room. "Despite your best efforts, nothing you said or did could stop me from loving you, and I'm sure that I'm going to keep loving you for the rest of my life."

"Awww!" one woman exclaimed.

Ricky knelt down and popped open a ring box with one hand. "Will you marry me?" he asked.

"Yes," she exhaled, covering her face as if she could stop the tears from flowing.

The band leader took the microphone from Ricky. "I'm sorry, what was that?" he asked.

"Yes!" Mona yelled. Luckily, the mike wasn't too close to her face, just close enough to pick up her response.

Ricky pushed himself up and put the ring on her finger. Applause and cheers broke out as the newly engaged couple kissed.

The newlyweds were set to make their escape immediately after the countdown. They stood by the double doors and faced their guests.

"Ten…nine…eight…."

"It's been great spending the evening at Table Six," Geoffrey told Wendy.

"You're a good dancer," she responded. "It's too bad I'm married, or I'd let you kiss me."

"…seven…six…."

"I'm wired from those iced teas," Angela said to Tony. "If my feet didn't hurt so much, I could dance all night."

"I'm glad you're wide awake. There are plenty of things we could do with you off your feet."

"…five…four…."

"Jonathan, I don't think I'm going to be the next person here to get married," Jenny said, looking down at the bouquet she'd caught.

Sam and Marci were within earshot of the two, and instead of teasing the younger kids, they hugged each other out of pure joy.

"…three…two…one…Happy New Year!"

Paul and Isabel kissed quickly and ducked out the door, obscured by a cloud of confetti. Half of the guests were still caught up in kissing each other when the doors closed. Among them were Jenny and Jonathan, though their parents missed the moment entirely.

Tony and Angela enjoyed an unusually ardent kiss, for a public event. "I love you, baby," he said.

"I'm gonna tear this suit off you with my teeth," she growled, hands roaming inside his jacket.

Geoffrey kissed Wendy on the cheek. "Can I call you?" he asked without having a clue what his endgame was.

"I'll call you," she promised.

Angela squeezed her eyes closed and twisted the fitted sheet in her fists. "Don't stop, Tony. Please don't stop," she moaned. He held back from cackling at her frustration and continued exactly what he was doing. Only moments later, he was rewarded. He crawled next to her and propped himself up on an elbow. His grin would have put the Cheshire Cat to shame. "Are you laughing at me?"

"I'm not laughing. I'm just happy," he said. "God, you're so sexy when you let yourself go like that."

"The mouth on you," she said, still catching her breath. She turned on her side. "I'm not supposed to lay on my back for too long," she reminded him.

He slid his arm under her neck and kissed her deeply, letting her taste herself. "I can lay on my back for as long as you need me to," he offered, pulling her on top of him.

She glanced down at the floor and started moving her hips. "You were right," she told him. "That dress does look great on our carpet."