Stella Kowalski is a wonderful woman. Oh yeah. Ray knows that from his boots up. And most days, he didn't need to think it. But today, oh today, one of those days that just keeps going, rolling on until you're sure it's been at least ten years since breakfast and there's a century 'til noon. Today's the day. Stella is a wonderful woman and he is the luckiest man alive.
And he is as sure of that as he is that his suit is Armani.
Er.
Vecchio and Stella are good together and everyone says so. Anyone who can get a word in edgewise, anyhow. So they're yapping on at each other, and anyone who'll listen, all the time and they're macking on each other like sex-starved teenagers the rest of the time and it would be embarrassing if they weren't so damn cute about it and he's pleased for them.
No really.
When Stella was fifteen she bled through her panties in the diner where she was hanging out with her girlfriends and Ray biked all the way across town with her on his lap so no one would see. That's history, see?
When Ray got into college he got so drunk he puked through his nose and Stella pulled off her slip to clean him up. That kind of history, that kind of gross, disgusting...history, you can't erase that.
Can't wash it out. Ew. What the hell?
Ray straightens his tie and pats down his hair... Makes a fair attempt at it, anyhow.
Vecchio's rambunctious family piles up like a snowdrift down one side of the hall and Stella's gaggle of girlfriends and co-workers start to shrink a little in comparison. The place is done out nice, you know, for a bowling alley and Stella doesn't care too much anyway. She's had her white wedding. This one's just for them.
She takes a deep breath and catches the eye of the JP, who smiles at her distractedly. She picks up her skirts and strides down past the booths. She's shaking like hell but her smile is a hundred miles wide. Ray Vecchio is a great guy and today's the day.