2 Sweet Baby Tony

How long has it been?

Wow!

His smile hasn't changed a bit.

At that moment, Marcella forgot about everything around her. The bright lights, the nasty smell, the chatters of the crowd around her, her pain… everything! Only his blooming face was in her view.

Antony Crawford… Tony…

It is him.

How did the scrawny boy who was the same height as me grow up this tall? Puberty hit him like a truck!

He turned handsome, like a man! He was a beautiful boy. It should be no surprise.

He's wearing a nice suit. He must be earning well.

No ring though…

"Ton~" she stopped herself. "Tommy? Is that you?" she walked to him.

It was wonderful that she recognized the "boy" she didn't think about much in the past decade even though he looked different.

Although she remembered him well, she didn't want to give him the pleasure of knowing, because he hurt her the last time.

It was not a big deal… Well, maybe it was.

It definitely was a big deal for her.

He refused to kiss her.

She was seventeen. He was the first boy she asked for a kiss. She wanted to have her first kiss at prom. But he refused. Her pride was hurt; her rose-colored expectations shattered to shills. It was hard for her to get over it.

He didn't like her that way and that floored her confidence.

Looking back, she was not mad at him. He could have taken advantage of her even though he was not interested in her. Everyone who approached her tried to take advantage of her for who her father was. He didn't. She respected him more for what he did (or didn't do) as she grew older.

Can she even blame him for not wanting someone like her? No.

Antony too was as shocked to see her. His eyes widened and he walked toward her. In her passive-aggressive heart, happiness rippled as she saw the slight dip in his cheery smile as she called him by the wrong name.

"It's… Tony… Antony Crawford. It's been a while, Bambi!" He held out his hand for a shake.

Ugh! Bambi… He called me Bambi!

Her father named her after the god of war, but he called her Bambina. "La mia Bambina", he'd say, "my little girl". The men in his close circle called her Bambi. She didn't like that and let them know, but no one cared for her poor little feelings.

Tony's grandmother worked in their house and he too frequented there. He never called her Bambi though.

Wait… is he being passive-aggressive too? Is he mad I called him by the wrong name?

Ah, but it's sweet baby Tony. He would never.

Marcella smiled in her heart. She couldn't get her left hand away from the coat as she was covering her bloody blouse. Her other hand was full.

"It has been a while, Tony," she nodded wetting her lips.

He has changed a lot, but her life was the same thanks to her father.

She looked around for the ruffians who chased her. She didn't see anyone around. She was relieved a bit. Maybe it would be better if Tony walks her home.

But how will she ask him?

"Antony Crawford, how do you do?"

Tony put his hands in his coat pockets. A gust of wind ruffled his hair. He looked at her with a smile. "Not bad, Marcella. Not bad at all…"

His curious eyes ended on her abdomen. The smile on his face dwindled. He stepped closer.

"What?" she yelped as he reached for her coat.

He looked at her, his perpetual smile returning to his face. With two of his fingers, he gripped the lapel of her coat. "Let me see," he said, his voice low as thunder.

It didn't sound like a command but like a mother's plea. The warmth from his boney fingers somehow found its way to her heart even though they didn't make contact with her skin.

How was that even possible?

His eyes met with hers and Marcella wetted her lips. There was something to him—a mystique. She couldn't figure it out back then and she still got charmed by the same mystique he hid behind his smile.

Back then too, he would appear magically in front of her whenever she needed help. He could very well be her guardian angel.

She found herself dancing to his tunes without knowing. Just like back then. Of all the boys who asked her to prom, she said 'Yes' to Sweet baby Tony.

"Fine," she opened her coat just for a second to let him see the bloody mess.

The smile in his eyes was still lingering. He sighed. "Do you need to see a doctor?" he asked.

"Not necessary. Just have to clean the wound," she said.

"Are your attackers still around?"

"No, I don't see them," she answered.

He nodded.

This is what she liked about him—the casualness in any situation. Although he looked boyish, he acted mature, having a solution to every problem, unlike those buffy jerks.

"Then let's go," he said loosening his tie, and as if it was natural, got her purse and the gift bag from her hand.

No unnecessary questions asked, no prying, no wasting time, just moving forward.

He hasn't changed.

"Tony!! Antony!!!"

Marcella looked back hearing the shout of a woman. She was wearing a hot-pink coat and was waiting to cross the street. Her blonde hair was perfectly curled and Marcella noticed her red-painted nails. A bright smile adorned that woman's face as she looked at Tony's tall frame.

Along with the sting on her abdomen, Marcella felt something else in the pit of her stomach.

"It's Cindy Thompson," Marcella said recognizing that woman. "You know her?"

"You know her too?" Tony raised his brows. He was in no hurry to look at Cindy.

"She works as a secretary in our office building." Marcella didn't want to tell him that she does not like that woman.

"Small world," Tony smiled.

"Yeah," she smiled back. "Small world, indeed."

Tony clicked his tongue as he spared a glance at Cindy. "I forgot. I was taking her to dinner."

"Is she your date?" Marcella reached to get her bags from his hand. The weird bitterness in the pit of her stomach intensified. But she chose to ignore it.

"You should go with her."

Cindy looked like she got ready having Tony in mind.