AN; I forgot mention in the first chapter that this was loosely based on the novel "Heartbeat." Also, the restaurant mentioned in this chapter, "The Bistro," and any sequential mention to "The Bistro" is homage to waiterrant. Give Buffy and Angel's relationship a little time to unravel, and trust me, it is going to be a good story if it kills me. And also, I don't own these characters.
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The stairs leading to her apartment were narrow and old, but she told Angel they were essential to New York apartments, especially one facing the road so near to China Town. It was in a bad neighborhood, but the inside was beautiful and cozy; so like her own home in California that she couldn't bear to leave it behind, squeezing Angel's hand that day four years ago, saying, "baby, please, it's perfect," and he'd given in and emptied his wallet on the counter for a down payment. This was their home and it was perfect. They'd finished paying for it the year before, and they had taken care to frame the copy of their last mortgage payment. It was a crowning achievement for them as a young couple. How far they'd come from then was incredible. They were no longer starving New York City transplants. They were actually making it. Buffy reached into her pocket to make sure the folded check was still there. He'd written it from his own checkbook, out to Buffy Summers, for the cool sum of ten thousand dollars. Her heart was thumping and she turned her key in the doorknob, and glanced into the apartment.

"Hey," he answered warmly, peeking out through the kitchen. "Good day?"

"Amazing day!" she exclaimed, rushing from the doorway into the kitchen. She buried herself in his arms, "I got a raise!"

"That's really-"

"And a promotion!"

"Wow, Buffy, I-"

"And a bonus!"

Angel stood, bringing Buffy with him. "You," he answered, giving her a soft kiss. "Are awesome." She smiled up at him, and then produced the check Spike had written. Unfolding it, she waved it in his face. "Let me see!"

Buffy proudly handed him the check, and took a seat at the kitchen table, helping herself to Angel's drink.

"William Robinson, huh?"

"Yeah, he's our new exec. I came in late to the briefing this morning and he was there all like, 'Buffy you're always late blah blah promotion blah blah blah.' "

"Buff, do you remember when I was first starting out on Wall Street as the go-to guy at the Smith firm?"

"Yeah?"

"William Robinson was the first client I bought for. He got me fired from Smith because his stocks plummeted."

Buffy's heart stopped. She remembered how devastated her fragile husband was then. He didn't like for bumps to come up on his road to success. He was very straight and narrow. "Angel, that was four years ago," she replied softly. "Water under the bridge, right? Now you've got a better job at a bigger firm. You're going to be partner any day now and—"

"This guy is an asshole." He tossed her check onto the table.

Willow emptied her coffee cup, savoring the last of her skinny latte. Buffy was, not surprisingly, twenty minutes late for their regular Monday evening meeting. They were meeting at The Bistro, as they had for the past six years. "Sorry," her friend breathed, sliding into her usual spot at the booth across from her friend. "Skinny latte?" she asked, picking up the cup on the table. She took a long drink then set it down, beaming at her friend. "New hair?"

Willow's long brown hair was braided loosely and pulled to the side. "Yeah," she said, fingering the braid. "Like it?"

"Oh, well...it's okay, but nothing's like your usual red."

"Yeah. Anyway, tell me about William Robinson!" Buffy loved this about meeting up with Willow. Nothing was better than the sweet smile of her best friend as they gossiped and caught up from the past week. Lately even their text messages had fallen off as Willow was just getting into a new relationship and Buffy's career was taking a sharp turn up.

"Ohmigawd, Will. He's gorgeous firstly...totally different from Angel. And he's cocky and British. And!" she reached into her purse. She slid the check across the table and watched as Willow raised her brows.

"He lives in the Trump Tower," Willow said, running her finger across his name and address. "Impressive!"

"Exactly. He has a lot of money. And now I have some of it!" She couldn't help but laugh.

"Are you going to cash this check?"

"Yeah, eventually. I want to savor having it first."

Willow laughed, and signaled for the waitress to bring another coffee. "So? Anything else new since last Monday?"

"Not much," Buffy admitted, "Except – IthinkI'mpregnant," she said, covering her mouth with the coffee cup.

"You what?"

"I think I'm pregnant. I've been throwing up in the mornings, I've gained three pounds, and I'm two months late."

"How are you gonna tell Angel?"
"I'm not sure how," Buffy confessed, staring into her coffee. "Angel and I have always said kids weren't part of the plan. But now that I'm here… I don't know. It just seems like maybe it happened for a reason."
"Maybe he'll surprise you," Willow speculated, but her tone revealed her true thoughts. Angel didn't stray from his plans. Not for anything.

"Angel, I have to tell you something."

Angel stared at his wife from across the table. She had cooked him a real meal for the first time in months. "Let me guess. It has to do with Spike Robinson?"

"No, no. Nothing with him."

"Okay, I give up." Angel smiled up at his wife expectantly.

"I'm late."

"How can you be late to your own house for dinner?" Angel laughed, and grabbed his wife's hand. "Baby, dinner at seven thirty is fine."

"No, Angel, I'm late-late." He blinked, searching her face for answers. Her hazel eyes were cloudy, and he wondered briefly what he could do to chase away the storms. He loved this woman with such completeness.

"So, we'll take care of it," he answered, assured. "Make an appointment tomorrow. Pull the money out of that bonus check."

"Right," she answered sullenly, setting her fork down. "I'm not hungry." She thought of the money sitting in her bank account: her accumulated small fortune. She and Angel split the bills right down the middle, from the groceries to the utilities.

"It's okay," her answered, taking her plate and putting it in the sink. "Thanks for dinner." He put his hand under her chin, and kissed her softly. "After we get this taken care of, everything will be perfect again," he whispered. "Goodnight." Buffy offered a small smile. She should've known this was how it'd go.

She sat at the table in silence, and watched the city lights burn outside. "Maybe," she told herself, her voice steady and calm. "Maybe I don't want perfect."