12: The Perfect Day

True Confessions: The Perfect Day Late afternoon sunlight slanted through the tall windows of the Hyperion, turning the lobby a soft, lazy gold. It had been one of those rare, blessedly quiet days—no visions, no clients, no apocalypse knocking on the door. Cordelia was stretched out on the red couch, head on a throw pillow, one foot resting in Angel’s lap while he absently rubbed the arch with his thumb. The simple touch had become normal somewhere between the honesty pact and the almost-kisses, and neither of them commented on… Read more 12: The Perfect Day →