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Angel’s chest tightened at the sight of Willow walking down the stairs. He hadn’t been sure she’d wear the dress he’d impulsively bought her, but he shouldn’t have worried. The delicate silk draped her petite frame in every shade of blue imaginable, shimmering and shifting color with every move she made. It almost looked like she was wearing water. He snorted quietly to himself at his flight of fancy. There was a reason he was an artist and not a writer.
He smiled up at her as she paused on the last step and said, “You truly are a vision tonight, Willow.”
She blushed prettily and murmured a thank you as he took her hand. The orchestra chose that moment to strike up a waltz and Angel swept her into his arms and onto the dance floor. Willow squeaked in surprise, but followed his lead. As they danced, Angel noticed a soft white glow surround them. And as he gazed down at the beauty in his arms, he could believe that she really was the goddess she was rumoured to be.
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