She sat in the Alice-in-Wonderland chair in his room, reading an old book filled with wonderful prose that she got lost in every so often. He was out fighting again, she knew. Fighting vampires and werewolves icky, smelly demons that would cause him to hop right into the shower once he got home, that was unless he was hurt and then she would patch him up as always. She looked forward to that. Everytime a vision came, she didn't want him to go but he did. And she prayed and hoped that he wouldn't' get hurt, but some part of her wished that he at least got a scratch just so she could wrap him up in bandages he didn't necessarily need and just so she could feel his touch.

It wasn't the warmest skin that she had laid her hand upon in all her twenty-three years, but the sensation sent fireworks to her heart, making it jump every time he was near her. Heck, even the thought of it sent fireworks to her heart and she did jump, well at least her legs did, up onto one of the sidearms of the chair.

Suddenly, she didn't feel like reading anymore, she felt like training. It had to be almost three a.m. and Angel still wasn't home and she was bored out of her mind. She needed to do something, something that would keep her from thinking of the possibilities. Every night, she went to sleep and then the Sandman would visit, giving her dreams of plenty and every night it was the same dream: a sleeping two year old boy named Doyle sleeping with his head on Cordelia's lap and her body within Angel's. Like a family; a picture perfect family. But it was only in her dreams, and even though she hoped that one day she, they would raise a family together, it wasn't possible. Pulling her attention back to the book, she found herself not that interested anymore. Tossing the book aside, she leaned her head back and silently closed her eyes, her mind going back into her fantasy world.

Cordelia hung up the phone with fury as Dr. Yoro still refused to pay his bill. They had removed a large ass infestation of Hummer demons from his home almost eight months ago and just because he didn't believe in them, as he claimed, didn't mean that they weren't there. Just tell his decorator that. Her head claimed the wooden desk as she started to knock her noggin against it, giving up on the flamboyant so-called doctor. Doctor of what? Who really knew or cared? Lord knows that she didn't.

"Sweetie, you're going to knock all that prettiness out of you if you don't stop that." Lorne warned her as he grabbed the mail, searching for the magazines he was famous for snatching without even letting her look at them.

"Funny." She lifted her head up and pulled her hair out of her face. "What are you looking for?"

"Entertainment Weekly."

"Gunn has it."

"Gunn?"

"Gunn." She stated again, knowing Lorne was thinking the same thing. Gunn was reading a magazine and an entertainment magazine no less. "Lorne?"

"Yea honeybuns?"

"Can I ask you something?" Cordelia looked up and over at him as he reached for the coffee pot. "Okay, stupid question." She said aloud, getting up out of the chair and lurking around her good friend who always had an ear to lend and advice to give, whether he wanted to give it or not. "Do you think..." She was about to ask, when she stopped herself. She didn't want to ask, probably didn't even need to. "Nevermind."

"You sure?"

"Yea." She smiled back up at him and returned to her swivel chair, looking up the next client to call and ambush.

"Maybe later then."

"Later."

Eavesdropping was definitely not Angel's forte, but he couldn't help himself as he listened to Cordelia start to ask Lorne a question and then stop. Probably because she knew he was there. He couldn't help think about what she was going to ask the empath. Was she feeling the same anxiety he was? He was still cooking up his master plan to romance the seer but had only gotten as far as flowers. Lorne recommended the dinner plan and Fred was the next to come up with the fun at the fair option, then Wes & Gunn opted for the obvious option: gifts.

All three still lingered in the air, all just waiting to be snatched and set in its rightful place. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, reaching for the phone and dialing another pending client's number. He knew that the 'therapy' sessions had to be working at least a little bit, since every night when he came to bed, she was sitting right up in his bed writing her deepest thoughts onto sheets of off-white paper. He kind of hoped that most of the thoughts would be said aloud but that was her call and he wasn't going to question her again.

He remembered one night last week where he had come home from cleaning out a vampire nest and caught her in the skinny room between his and hers: the nursery, the one that either of them hasn't been in since she lost the baby. She had fallen asleep in the rocking chair and had the quilt wrapped around her to keep her warm. He remembered Dennis had motioned the book to him and somehow conveyed the message of getting her to bed. Angel had scooped her up in his arms and laid her in her own bed this time, instead of taking her back to his. The queen sized mattress had not been slept in quite a while and even thought the silky sheets of his own bed sounded better, he couldn't help but slip in beside her, pulling the cotton ones over his and hers' lower bodies.

"Angel? What are you doing?" Wesley's voice behind Angel jolted him out of his recollection as he twisted around and looked at his other best friend.

"Can I talk to you Wes?"

"Of course." Wesley drank his store bought mocha latte as they went inside his office and shut both doors for the privacy. Wesley went behind his desk and sat down, still watching Angel watch Cordelia through the little slit of the sliding doors. "Angel?"

"Yeah, uh, since you're the boss and everything I need to ask about your take on..." Angel scrubbed his head with edgy fingertips, searching for the right words.

"Yes?"

"Well, okay," Angel finally sat down in a chair just across from Wes and just wanted to get this out of his head and into the air.

"Angel," Wesley leaned forward, setting his latte aside and tore off his glasses saying, "she likes pink roses, fun at the pier, Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream and likes to go shopping no matter what time of day it is."

"So, that means yes?"

"Yes. Just ask her out before we all die of old age or too much anticipation, whichever comes first."

"Pink Roses?"

"Pink Roses."