January 8 — Tuesday

Daylight came through the peeks between the curtains, and Gael woke up after having the longest sleep he had since the new year. The clock on his nightstand said it was a quarter to nine in the morning. Seven hours of sleep was already long for him.

Looking to his left, his gaze landed on a soft angel sleeping next to him. Angela snuggled to his side, her hands loosely balled under her chin. After their conversation last night, they shared the dinner he sent to her and went to bed. They talked a bit more, and she fell asleep an hour later.

Rolling to his side so that he was facing her, Gael lightly fingered the lock of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. He was reminded of their fight last night, and his jaw clicked, displeased at the scene in his head. It wouldn't be the first time he verbally fought with a woman, but it didn't hurt him like it did last night. Sure he was mad, but it didn't mean he liked what he'd said to her. There was just something about Angela that hooked him in, and that hook remained pierced inside him. He was now way into deep with her.

And he wouldn't want it any other way.

Angela softly moaned next to him, then her eyes opened. Her gaze slowly traveled up until it met his gaze, and the corners of her lips curled up into a beautiful smile. "Good morning," she said in her usual hoarse morning voice.

"Morning, beautiful."

"Have you been staring at me again?"

"I can't help it. Waking up next to an angel makes me feel like I'm in heaven." He winked.

"Stop." She laughed.

Gael tugged Angela closer and kissed the tip of her nose. She nuzzled his face and wondered, "What were you thinking about just now? You looked like you were in deep thought."

"I just want to apologize about last night."

"But you already did."

He shook his head. His 'sorry' last night didn't seem enough. "I felt like shit when I left. Can you forgive me?"

She nodded without hesitation. "I'm sorry too. We were fighting, and I took your words the wrong way—"

"No, I was wrong to say that even when I was angry. I shouldn't have asked it like that. Then it pissed me off when you thought I was implying you whored around. Never did I think of you like that. And you were never a side chick or a side dish or whatever sides there are. You're a fucking full course, Angel."

Her cheeks blushed, and she was damn beautiful. Stroking her soft cheek, Gael told her, "Don't ever let anyone make you think you're not worthy of something good. Baby, you deserve everything you want. It's time you put those fucker's words buried under the ground."

'And bury the fucker, too,' he thought.

Angela nodded. "I know that… I mean, I know that I should stop letting what that bastard said get to me. And I've gotten better at thinking I'm good enough. It's just… Sometimes…the gloomy clouds sit over me out of nowhere. Sometimes it's easy to push away; other times, not." She shook her head as if to brush away her thoughts. "I'm suddenly unloading to you early in the morning. Sorry."

"Don't be." He stroked his thumb along her bottom lip. "I love listening to you." Then he pressed his lips on her forehead. "Have you seen a therapist for that?"

"I did. Then I stopped." She smiled. "Funny you mentioned that…"

"What?"

Angela shifted upward until they were eye level, their faces only less than a foot away from each other. "When I was a child, my mom got me my first diary. She taught me how or what to write in it. I think that's how I began to love writing anything…poems, short stories." She smiled. "Then when I saw my therapist after that incident three years ago. She told me to write a diary—well, actually, she let me choose a few activities that I could do to express myself, and then I readily chose writing."

"Haven't you been writing in a diary since you were a child?"

Her face became dismal for a bit before she formed a small smile. "I haven't written in one for the longest time before that. I think I stopped around the time Mom left, and I haven't picked up on it until my therapist told me to." Then her smile grew wider. "That's how my first book started."

Gael drew his brows together, studying her reminiscent expression. "You were writing in your diary, and it led to you writing your first book?"

"Uh-huh." Angela nodded, biting her bottom lip. There was a split second where her smile faltered, but then she quickly grinned at him again. "Anyway, that's basically how it all started. My writing journey."

"Interesting… Are you still writing in your diary now?"

She briefly looked to the side and shook her head before facing him again. "I actually haven't written in it since three years ago. I've been writing my books instead."

Gael thought about the books that he kept on his nightstand in his house in Brooklyn. "You mentioned something in the book you signed… The one I have."

[ You have no idea how much writing this helped me during my dark days. This book saved me more than you can imagine. ]

"Yeah…that…" Angela exhaled a sigh, seemingly out of relief. "Writing became my coping mechanism. I get to forget about stuff…like the gloomy clouds above me. And it's been so much fun. I find writing quite therapeutic."

This woman before him was strong. Despite her soft nature, she had been through a lot, and she's still standing. It gave him a sense of pride, and he wanted to keep her by his side at all times. Angela was amazing. And there was still so much to learn about her; he couldn't wait to discover every layer she had.

"Let me take you out later," said Gael.

"Where are we going?"

"Where I should have brought you last week."

A charming smile ghosted her face, her eyes sparkling in anticipation as to where he would take her. "Aren't you busy today?"

"Never too busy for you." Then he suddenly flipped on top of her, causing her to gasp. Gael ran his nose down her neck and nibbled as he traveled down to her chest and spoke against her skin. "But first… Let me worship you for breakfast."

And worship he did.