Chapter XI

Angel stared at the dull, drab walls around him thinking how appropriately they fit his mood, not to mention his life at this moment.  The very last place he wanted to be was stuck in a motel room too many miles away from the only thing he had ever cared about.  Not that it would be much better if he and Buffy were in the same room, he thought dismally … and whose fault was that?  His arms crossed dejectedly behind his head, lying against the flimsy pillows, ‘Mine,’ he sighed sadly, ‘mine.’

He had spent the day with programmers having his brain picked and his theories inspected with a microscope.  Buffy might have been worried about his uneasiness among strangers, but Angel hardly noticed them.  He had hoped, in fact, that the meetings would be a distraction from his brooding thoughts, but he found there was no easy escape.  At one time his mind would have been totally engrossed in number and letter sequences, or how to apply findings to unraveling impossible riddles.  Now, he gave perfunctory responses, hardly able to keep his attention on the task at hand.  He caught himself doodling profiles of Buffy’s face on the edges of his notes and again later, tracing her figure on napkins instead of eating his lunch.  He couldn’t even bring himself to get rid of those tiny bits, but carefully secreted them in a pocket of his briefcase.

He had one more day to go.

He sorely missed his office … no … that wasn’t true … he missed his officemate.  Reservations had made been for him to stay two nights – but he wasn’t.  He didn’t care how late they kept him the next day, he couldn’t take the distance.  He was going to the airport and taking the first flight home if he had to sit there all night to wait for it.  He couldn’t be with Buffy, but at least, he could be near her.  He’d take what he could get.

He did wonder how much he would see her when he got back.  Buffy had been finding a lot of reasons to be out of the office.  While things were strained between them, to say the least, her absence made it feel as if all the light and air had been sucked out of the room, leaving a cold, static void.  Since being assigned to help Lindsey McDonald with his case she had been spending more and more of her hours during the day with him.  There had been some work at night too, supposedly to gather more information and research it immediately.

Angel didn’t even try to stave off the wave of jealousy that sluiced over him.  He would once he returned, but here at least, he could give rein to his true feelings.  He wanted Buffy to be happy, that was why he had left her.  He saw the appreciative gleam in McDonald’s eye when Buffy was near.  Angel would rather see her with someone like Lindsey then scum like Riley Finn.  But it didn’t mean he had to like it.  It didn’t mean he didn’t feel like ripping her possible suitors limb from limb.  He just had to make sure she didn’t know it.  He prayed for McDonald’s sake that if he was interested he’d better be very careful how he treated her.

Leaving Buffy’s apartment that last time had been the hardest thing Angel ever had to do.  He left his heart ripped out and bleeding before he closed the door behind him.  No stranger to pain, he had endured it for a lifetime.  But leaving her there crying, knowing he was the cause of her heartbreak, was the worst agony he had ever known.  He had told her the truth, of sorts, he desperately wanted her, needed her, loved her, but the life he had to offer wasn’t something he wanted her to share.  He would deny his own heart and soul before allowing her to settle for the shell of a man he was.  It was better for her to move on to someone worthy of her love, before she wasted any more time on him.

Little did Angel know that his sister had already made her way to Buffy with the exact opposite thoughts in mind.

He lay awake for a while, then finally rose and found the sketchpad.  Settling his large frame on the motel bed, he leaned back against the headboard.  He had tried to read earlier, but couldn’t keep his attention on the words for even a few sentences.  Restless and feeling at odds, he had searched out a store to find a few pencils and the pad he now held.  Glancing through the surprising number of pictures he'd already drawn, he shook his head.  He couldn’t seem to help himself, the drawing had become addicting, the only thing able to bring him any peace.  In some way he felt a link to Buffy as she materialized in the charcoal lines, drawing her close if only on paper.

The picture he couldn’t get out of his mind, the one he had to draw now was of her fast asleep in the chair that sat by his before the fireplace.  He saw her wearing a beatific smile, blissfully dreaming in her slumber.  She had never been in his house, yet she looked as though she belonged there, should be there.  How many nights had he dreamt of her, curled like a kitten, warm and soft?  How many times had he been surprised not to find her there when his eyes opened, almost touched her before she faded from his sight.

But now he had captured her in the only way left to him.  Tangled locks cascading over her shoulders, covering her breasts, cheeks pink from the fire and his caresses, slender arms and legs snuggled deep into the cushions and eyes closed with the smile that played on her lips as she dreamt.  The hair, the face, the hands … every feature he adored, brought to perfection by his hand.  So small, so perfect, so loved.

Once more what he felt, what every fiber of his being craved, found its way from heart to paper.  He fell into a fitful sleep, her picture on his chest, still clutching his pencil.

*****

Buffy spent all day Saturday mentally going over everything Cordelia had told her.  She ran errands, went to the gym to exercise, shopped for clothes.  Even if she had tried, there was no getting Angel out of her mind.  And even though she never saw him on the weekends, except that one momentous Friday night, she missed him.  She called Willow late in the afternoon to see if her redheaded friend wanted to go out to a movie.  But Willow apologetically told her that she and Tara were just getting ready to leave for a concert.  After kicking around the apartment for another hour, Buffy decided to go to a movie by herself.  Once there, she found she really didn’t care about what was showing or sitting there for two hours.  Spying Willy’s across the street, it looked like a better alternative than just going back home.

She hadn’t planned on finding anyone she knew inside and was pleasantly surprised to see Lindsey McDonald draped over a stool at the end of the bar.  As she walked towards him she wondered if she should say anything after all.  He was staring into his beer mug and didn’t look like he was in the mood for any company.  He glanced up before she could move away and called her over.  Buffy thought he was insisting out of politeness.  When she tried to refuse, he was adamant.  He guided her to a table, bringing along a pitcher of beer and two mugs.

Buffy had been working with Lindsey for a good share of the last two weeks and found she really liked him.  If she wasn’t so deeply in love with Mr. ‘I’m No Good For You’, she thought she might not have minded getting to know Lindsey better.  But she figured she would need to take a number.  Lindsey McDonald was handsome, smart, sexy and understandably popular.  He was easy to talk to and very down to earth.  So Buffy found it odd that such a temptation to the general female population was sitting there unattached.  It didn’t take her long to find out they were kindred spirits.

According to him, Linds was in the same boat she was … well almost.  Lindsey was in love with Faith Knight.  And Faith, well, that was his problem, he wasn’t sure where he stood with her.  Lindsey told Buffy that all he and Faith seemed to do best together was argue.  They’d had an on again, off again relationship for a while and though he tried to remain aloof, it wasn’t working.  Being apart made Lindsey realize just how strong his feelings were and Faith’s reluctance to commit was tearing him apart.

Lindsey seemed relieved he had found someone to share his woes with, someone who could identify with him.  He rambled on for some time, so deeply involved in his own love life he never noticed how quiet Buffy was, across from him.  She thought he needed an outlet and knew exactly how he felt, so she sat and listened as he poured his heart out.

At length, Buffy commiserated with him, but only to a point.  “At least you have some kind of relationship,” she said sadly.  Lindsey refilled her empty glass and then his own.  She’d had a couple glasses already and knew she probably shouldn’t have much more.

“And you don’t?” he asked, finally realizing how much of the evening and conversation he had monopolized.

She knew Lindsey had seen her with Angel a couple of times now and thought he was probably curious.  “A relationship takes more than one person,” she sighed.

“I thought maybe you and Angelus …” Lindsey said, letting the end of his sentence drift off.

“Yeah, … me too,” she told him, “but I …” she stopped suddenly, looking at Lindsey entreatingly.  She hated to ask Lindsey, but now that she had the opportunity she couldn’t let it go.   “Linds, I know you aren’t supposed to say anything about what happened to Angel … I, uh, mean Angelus,” she said, cursing herself for never being able to not call him that.  “But I really need to know.”

“Buffy, you know I can’t divulge privileged information,” he said, unwittingly falling into his professional demeanor.

“I don’t mean to make this sound dire, Lindsey, but I’m not just asking out of curiosity.  Please,” she begged, not meaning to get so emotional, “it’s really important to me.  I know he won’t tell me if I ask.  I love him and I think it has to do with why we aren’t together.”

McDonald wasn’t one to pry, but he had often wondered what it was that made Angelus set himself apart.  What could have caused him to isolate and insulate himself so completely from everyone?  Violent as that storm had been, he was sure that what had landed the strong, stoic man in the hospital was much more deep-seated than a simple fear of the elements.  Much more.  He genuinely liked the taciturn ex-agent.  Lindsey thought if anyone deserved a break that it was Angelus.  He had thought on occasion that Liam Angelus needed someone in his life, that he seemed too painfully alone.  Although he didn’t think it was apparent to anyone else, McDonald was sure that his former boss was strongly attracted to Buffy.  If Lindsey had any doubts left after Buffy’s party, the way Angelus had watched over every move the little blonde made during the kickboxing class dispelled them.  He knew Buffy was probably right.  Angelus wasn’t one to share and his strength of will was formidable.  Whatever his reasons, Lindsey doubted Angelus would tell her.

He didn’t have to see the tears suddenly glistening in her eyes to understand how intensely serious Buffy was in her request.  He silently weighed what was at stake – his own well-being or someone else’s.  Imparting details of the maneuver that had cost Angelus and Finn their positions as agents could very well jeopardize his own just for sharing them outside the Bureau.  But Lindsey knew that was nothing compared to Angelus’ wrath when he found out.

“It’s not that …” he started to answer her.

“Please, don’t tell me no, Linds,” she pleaded, the tears slipping silently down her face.  “I know he’ll be mad if you do,” she went on as if reading Lindsey’s mind.  “But I swear if I tell him, I’ll take the blame for it.  Please?” she asked one last time.

Lindsey knew it wouldn’t matter if Buffy told Angelus she forced the information out of him.  Angelus would, rightly, hold him responsible for breaking his trust.  Lindsey almost told her no, but he couldn’t find it in himself to refuse.  What if Faith wanted to know something about Lindsey himself and someone told her.  He tried to be objective about it.  He would be angry, but if it helped bring him and Faith together, he knew he would at least try to understand.  He just hoped Angelus would.

“I'll tell you,” he finally said, unable to bear the look of sheer desperation in her eyes, “but if Angelus is angry, I'm not afraid to deal with him myself.  I never learned,” he added with a faint smile, “how to say no to a beautiful woman.”

Lindsey told Buffy everything he knew about the unfortunate episode.  He had only been an eyewitness to the outcome.  Still, he found it difficult to describe the scene that morning more than two years ago.  He remembered arriving moments too late to help the men Angelus had batted out of his way like toy soldiers.  Lindsey had felt the raw pain the large, muscular man had radiated as he flailed wildly at anyone who came near him.  When they had finally managed to subdue Angelus, McDonald knew he would never forget the dark, empty eyes that stared at nothing, nothing at all.

Lindsey remained quiet after he finished telling Buffy what she wanted to know.  She still had tears trailing down her cheeks that were now from knowledge rather than supposition.  This time it was Buffy who lifted the pitcher and poured the beer for both of them.  Neither one spoke until the glasses were empty once more.  Both were silently thinking of where they wanted to be instead of where they were.

Buffy knew she’d had too much to drink but realized she didn’t care.  She was so wrapped up in Angel thoughts she couldn’t think straight anymore.  Everything that both Cordelia and Lindsey told her was swirling somewhere around in all that beer.  At first she hadn’t been able to stop the tears from escaping and trailing down, thinking of the terrible things Angel had silently endured over the years.  But then she found herself getting increasingly angry.  Now that she knew what was behind his actions, Buffy was deeply hurt.  Why hadn’t he told her?  Didn’t he think she could deal with his past?  Or wasn’t her love enough to help him put that past behind him?  The more she drank, the angrier she became.

Neither Lindsey nor Buffy was sober enough by the end of the night to drive home.  Lindsey called a cab after Buffy agreed it was a good idea that they both pick up their cars the next day.  When they finally tumbled out onto the sidewalk and into the cab, they were far too inebriated to notice the dark convertible following behind them.

*****

Not wasting a moment once his last meeting was over, Angel drove the rental car, already packed with his bags, to the airport.  He had made his own reservations for the flight home, not willing to wait for the scheduled one in the morning.  It was late and he was tired, knowing he wouldn’t catch any sleep on the plane.  He hardly slept the night before which hadn’t come as any surprise.  Sleep had become almost nonexistent the last couple of weeks, only coming with total exhaustion.  He didn’t feel any better for the little he did get.  Nor had he eaten much during all that time either.  The effects were leaving their marks.  The loss of weight on his already slim frame and the dark circles under his eyes made him noticeably haggard and drawn.

The flight was long and tedious.  He had opened the sketchbook looking for a fresh page.  Instead he leafed through the drawings he had created when after waking a very short time the night before, sleep once more had refused to rescue him.  He became immersed – enthralled and lost in the study of his unattainable subject.  The eyes that pleaded with him, the lips he could never kiss again, the soft hands that he wanted to feel holding him – they were whispering from the pages.  Cold comfort, but comfort nonetheless, soothing him as his books no longer could.

Startling him, a low voice beside Angel said, “She’s beautiful.”  The speaker was an older woman in the adjoining seat.  Grey-haired, with glasses and a kind face, she looked like someone’s mother.  She was studying the picture he had finished the night before, then turned her friendly gaze up to his face.  She couldn’t help but see the love in his expression and in the artwork he grasped tightly.  “Is she your girlfriend or your wife?”  She wasn’t prepared for the look of abject pain and loneliness she caught before he brusquely turned away.  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, but dared say no more.  She could almost feel the heartbreak of the dark-haired man next to her and felt badly for causing such a troubled response.  They both remained silent for the rest of the trip, but she noticed his gaze never left the drawing, held like a lifeline in his trembling hands.

When he finally got off the plane and searched for his car in the airport parking lot, all he wanted to do was go home and try another attempt at sleeping.  The quickest route took him through Main Street in the small hours of the morning.  It was the weekend, which meant more people were still out despite the late hour.  Just as he came to a stop for a red light, he caught sight of the blonde head he’d know anywhere.  Lindsey McDonald and Buffy were standing outside the bar that everyone at work congregated at Friday nights.  Only this was Saturday and Angel didn’t think it was part of any investigation that McDonald was working on that would need Buffy’s help.  He could tell by the way they were both weaving and holding each other up as they fell into a cab together, that neither of them was even close to sober.

It was all Angel could do not to ram his car in front of the cab and drag Lindsey out through the window.  But he kept his hands clenched on the steering wheel as he trailed behind the taxi.  It was a short trip, ending in front of Buffy’s apartment building.  Parking the car some ways back from the cab, he forced himself to just watch, trying not to let jealous rage overtake him.  They emerged from the cab with difficulty, then stumbled to the entry door.  He saw Buffy drop her keys after she unlocked the door and kneel down to pick them up.  Lindsey offered her an unsteady hand and they fell in a heap on the doorstep.

Angel couldn’t restrain himself any longer, he slammed out of his car and stalked towards the unsuspecting pair.  He was at a distance though and before he got near enough, Lindsey had already helped Buffy up.  McDonald was staggering towards the waiting cab as Buffy opened the door to go inside.  Lindsey didn’t know he just saved his own life when he closed the door to the taxi.  Angel gave a fleeting look in its direction as he reached the entry door, catching it before it closed.

His steps were silent on the carpeting.  He followed behind as she jammed the key in the lock and fumbled her way in her door.  As she turned to close it, he was standing in front of her.  Her eyes widened as she stepped back in surprise, her lips curving in a smile of joy that split him with half elation and half anguish.

“Angel,” she said in that small breathy way only she could say it.

His breath was gone, he couldn’t speak, still processing the mix of emotions her smile alone had invoked.

"You've come back," she said softly, thinking he had changed his mind, that he wanted her in his life.

The anguish he felt won out as he realized why she thought he was there and he knew it showed on his face. “I saw you with McDonald, I was worried about you,” he tried to explain feebly.

Confusion crowded into her eyes as he moved forward and her smile melted into a bitter line of anger.  "That's why you're here?" she asked, the tone changing to match her look as she swayed a little before him.

"I just wanted to make sure you were all right," he shrugged miserably, feeling more torn by the moment.

She couldn't think straight, but she knew by his look he wasn't there to stay.  She couldn't do this, she wouldn't, she wasn't up to trying to make him understand.  She wanted to scream at him she was so angry, but she felt dizzy and her head hurt.  “So you’re what?  My knight in shining armor, come to rescue me – again?” she spat out.

He cringed, knowing he deserved her anger, but was still as concerned as before.  “No, I-I just saw you … the two of you in the cab and I …” he trailed off as he saw the look of anger go up one more level to furious.

“Are you stalking me?  You’re the one who told me you didn’t want me in your life, but you can spy on mine?” she demanded, her voice rising.

“I wasn’t stalking you!” he told her, trying to keep his voice low.  “I happened to take that way home from the airport and saw you get in the cab,” he said, realizing as he spoke he’d just made things even worse.

“So you followed us here?” she yelled.

“Buffy, please,” he tried to tell her, “calm down and let me explain.”

“I don’t want your explanations,” she seethed. “Who I’m with is none of your concern, you made that clear.  She glared at him, “I’m not in your life, remember?  You don’t want me there,” she repeated harshly.  “I’m of no concern to you.”

Shocked she would think that, let alone say it, he reached for her, “That’s not true. You know I care what happens to you.”  Before he could stop them, the words were out of his mouth, “I love you.”

Her face crumpled at his declaration, “You can’t have it both ways, Angel,” she cried, her voice falling off to a whisper, tears streaking down her face.  She turned away suddenly and lurched unevenly towards the hallway, holding one hand to her mouth, the other to her stomach.

Angel kicked the door shut without thinking and caught up with her as she got to the bathroom door.

“Just leave,” she managed to eke out as she crossed the room and fell in front of the toilet.

“I can’t,” he told her honestly as he grabbed a washcloth and turned on the faucet to soak it.

He reached for her, gently pulling her hair back, just as she wretched violently into the basin.  Keeping a delicate hold on her, he waited until she was finished.  After a few long moments she sank back onto the floor.  Very carefully he drew her into his lap, tenderly soothing her face with the cloth.

“Angel, please …” she tried weakly to move as she spoke.

“Shhh ...” he whispered, as he continued to brush the damp cloth over her face.

Buffy had no fight left.  She hadn’t been sleeping or eating any better than Angel.  The drinks and the shock of seeing him at her door combined with the emotions he caused were more than she could handle.  She couldn’t help that she felt like she was right where she should be … and she didn’t have the strength to even stay conscious.  She fell asleep as he held her, just as she’d dreamt of doing every night.

Angel sat there for a very long time just holding her.  He smoothed the damp strands of gold from her cheek, staring down at her fallen lids.  The sight of her never failed to take his breath away.  She was so very lovely and now looked so vulnerable and fragile.  He could see the dark smudges under her lashes and feel how light she’d become.  Lighter than the last time he’d held her, he could tell.  His hands couldn’t stop moving over her, caressing her lightly, tracing whisper-soft love into the lines of the face he saw every moment, in dreams or in waking.  How could he keep leaving her when the most important part of him stayed with her?  He knew she was right, he had no right to be jealous, had no right to be where he was at this moment.  He shouldn’t have followed her and made her angry.

He finally rose to his feet, cradling her in his arms, her weight no more to him than a feather.  Laying her gently on the bed, once he reached her bedroom, he looked in her dresser for a gown.  Lifting her with great care, he removed her clothes and dressed her in the nightgown, tucking her under the covers.  He wanted nothing more than to crawl in beside her and curl around her.  But he didn’t, he knew he would never leave if he did.  Instead he let his tired body collapse on her couch.  He would stay until daylight, just to make sure she was all right.  He knew no sleep would come for him.

*****

Once again Buffy fell asleep in the arms of her lover … and woke to find him gone.  She had been ready for it this time or at least she thought.  She didn’t know if it was seeing that he had changed her and put her to bed or looking at the indentation his large frame had left on the couch.  But it made the tears she didn’t want to cry fall anyway.  Curling into the cushions, the unique scent that was Angel’s surrounded her.  Every time he had been in her apartment had made her heart break a little more with each visit.  What made it that much worse was he showed even more each time how much he loved her.  He wouldn’t stay with her, but he couldn’t seem to keep himself away.  She thought wryly that if he loved her any more, it would kill her.

She forced herself to shower and get dressed, in spite of the pounding headache the generous amount of beer left in its wake.  Willow agreed to give her a lift to her car when Buffy phoned her and asked for the favor.  She was grateful Willow had picked up easily on how out of sorts she was and not pressed her too closely about what she’d done with her night out alone.  Poor Willow, Buffy thought, hadn’t been in her best friend’s confidence as she used to be.  Oddly enough, she and Willow had spent very little time together since Buffy had started working in the same place.  Both had expected to fall back into the same routine with each other as before, but that hadn’t happened.  She idly wondered if it was because Tara had replaced her in Willow’s life or Angel had replaced Willow’s in her own.  Granted, she hadn’t spent evenings with Angel, but seeing Willow and Tara together often reminded Buffy of how lonely she was.  And, unfortunately, it was Angel’s company she enjoyed the most.

She took her car back home, trying to keep Angel thoughts to a minimum.  It was impossible.  She could still remember, even through her alcoholic haze the evening before, how her heart had leapt at the sight of him in her doorway.  Those strong arms were just where she wanted them to be … and he had left … again.  The anger she’d felt the night before started welling back up.  She loved him, but she was so frustrated and infuriated with him she could scream.

Buffy stormed through her apartment like a tiny tornado.  She whipped around looking for a victim for her wrath.  She spied the stove standing innocently before her, seeming to cower beneath her vengeful eye.  She no longer thought of anyone’s head in it, except Angel’s.  She felt like stuffing all of him inside and turning it on high.  As she dug underneath the sink for the oven cleaner she went over that heart-wrenching conversation with him, the night he had thrown Riley out, for the thousandth time.  Every word of it had been burned into her brain.

Donning a pair of gloves and arming herself with a scrub brush and the cleaner, she attacked the oven.  As she made long vicious swipes with the brush, she punctuated them with broken sentences, thinking out loud. “You always hurt me.  You left me bruised.  Nothing is my fault because I’m perfect!”  She poured more cleaner on, daring the stove to stop her.  “I’m so precious that you have to do what’s right!  I’ll do what’s right, Angel!  If you can think with your head and not your heart so can I!”  Sitting back looking at the battlefield, she found she’d conquered the dirt all too easily.  She moved on to the refrigerator to start a fresh fight.

Finally exhausted, she collapsed onto the couch and lay there, staring at the ceiling.  All this time since their ‘talk’ had been a breakthrough for her.  She had looked back on her relationships, something that she had always buried rather than exam too closely.  It had been a sometimes painful, but honest evaluation.  She had tried to be objective about Pike and her father.  She finally found, to her amazement that she had done all she could.  She had been there for them.  She realized the fault lay with them, not her.  Where were they when she needed them?  They left her behind without any consideration of what it would mean to her, when all she had wanted to do was help them because she loved them.  But their own needs and feelings had been more important to them than hers.

Angel leaving her was different.  He didn’t want to, she could see it, hear it, feel it, in every part of him.  He wasn’t abandoning her.  She knew he would never be free of her.  He thought he was letting her go to something better.  She knew there would never be anyone better in her life for her than Angel, ever.  She had to make him understand that she had no life if he wasn’t in it.  He needed to know that.

She had Angel to thank for all of her revelations.  If she didn’t love him so much, if he hadn’t hurt her so deeply, she never would have looked as closely at herself as she did.  She hadn’t been able to push it down and hide it away as she always did before.  She loved him too much to lose him.  Her heart and soul had cried out as one when he walked out the door and she thought she would die.  The pain was so intense, she couldn’t ignore it, she had to deal with it.

But he’d given her insight.  It wasn’t just knowing that he did love her, but knowing she was important to him, so important he was trying to protect her.  It had taken her a while to figure that out, that his protection of her was more than physical.  More than beating up Riley or anyone else who threatened her.  He would defend her against even himself if he thought it was necessary.  He told her he wouldn’t let her be part of his darkness, but he needed her light.

And he’d given her back her strength by letting her see his own.  If he could love her so much that he would give her up to keep her safe, then she could love him enough to make him see she was only safe with him.  If he didn’t want to spend ‘this life’ with her, he’d have to work with her to make a new one.  She refused to let him go, no matter how noble he was trying to be.  If he could make her raise and deal with her own demons, she knew he had to exorcise his own.  She understood his were deeper, more firmly rooted by the pain and time that had held him.  But she knew he’d come further with her than with anyone in his life and if he didn’t let her help him, he might never be free.  She was more important to him than he realized and she had to make him see.

Somewhere in the last week, between her conversation with Cordelia and waking up to find Angel had watched over her, it finally dawned on her.  Angel was right … and he was so very, very wrong.  She had been thinking with her heart.  She automatically assumed she was to blame for things not working out, even though Giles had warned her against doing exactly that.  She had forgotten there were two people involved in that decision.  And she realized with blinding clarity he hadn’t given her that option. He had made the decision for both of them.  He never gave her a chance.  He had done the same thing she did, he assumed.  He assumed to know what was best for her without even asking her.

Just because she understood now why he had kept himself from her, it didn’t make her any less angry.  It made her furious.  She knew what an uphill battle lay before her because she knew how very strong and thickheaded Angel was.  The stove and refrigerator weren’t even a good warm-up for what lay ahead.  She had to think of how to get through to him and she knew it wasn’t going to be easy.  That thought alone enraged her all over again.


[end chapter 11]


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