The morning washes over Maura's mind in waves. Usually the first awake, she is surprised to feel cool sheets when she stretches her arm towards Jane's side of the bed. She measures her degree of illness as she brushes her teeth, washes her face, pulls her robe over her silk pajamas. By the time she appears in the kitchen, she has determined that she doesn't need to spend the day in bed, but should relax for as long as her family will let her.

Dylan is at the table with a soggy bowl of cereal and a wad of rolled-up dollar bills in front her. She is talking animatedly to Angela, who sits across from her. Jane is leaning against the counter with her own bowl of cereal, already dressed and ready for the day.

Jane watches her wife emerge from the bedroom and saunter to her. "Hey, sleepy-head." She sets the bowl on the counter and opens her arms. Maura falls into them, nestling her face into her wife's chest. She feels cool lips on her forehead, and hands rubbing her back. They stand still, in a tight embrace.

"I am very hungry," Maura murmurs into the warmth of the skin and fresh clothes against her cheek. She breathes in linen smells and… Jane.

"Cereal?"

"Maybe… a small bowl of oatmeal. I should go easy on my stomach for a few days."

"Your wish is my command."

But neither of the women breaks the embrace. Dylan's voice is high-pitched as she tells Angela about the seagulls at the beach, and how one had swooped on a piece of bread near their towels yesterday.

"How many more hours?" Jane says. Her chin rests atop her wife's head.

"Hmm?"

"How many more hours until the thing leaves your system?"

"The virus? Twenty-four."

"But you said twenty-four to forty-eight yesterday."

"Thus the twenty-four hours which are now left."

Jane sighs. "Why didn't you just say forty-eight? I thought I would get to kiss you this morning."

Maura senses the teasing in Jane's voice, but also a hint of genuine sadness. She leans back to look up at her wife, arms still clamped around each other.

Jane's eyes are hopeful.

Maura kisses the bottom of her wife's chin. She exhales heat into the space between her jaw and throat, and then begins a trail of loving to her deltoid.

"Maur," Jane whispers, her eyes on the dining room table, where Dylan is now standing on her chair, milk dripping from the spoon in her hand. "You trying to get me worked up and not do anything about it?"

"How do you know," Maura says into Jane's shirt collar, "that I'm not going to do anything about it?"

"Because my mother is letting Dill make a mess, and I know first-hand how much those carpets cost."

"What?" Maura looks over her shoulder just as, somewhere on the other side of the house, the front door unlocks and swings open. Rubber soles squeak on the hardwood floor as a series of male voices echoes down the hall.

Jane and Maura sigh into each other-one last long hug, bracing for the chaos that would be sure to follow. The 4th of July party at their beach house had seemed like a great idea—Maura's idea—but now, as she watches her family emerge from the threshold, she finds herself wishing it were just herself and her two girls. Her own little family.

Tommy leads the crowd, followed closely by a pre-pubescent, sullen-looking TJ. Frankie is next, hand-in-hand with a dair-haired woman they'd never met before. All four are bogged down by various duffel bags and beach accessories with store tags still hanging off them.

Various greetings and hugging ensue. Maura is sure to be careful of physical contact, explaining that she is getting over a bout of viral gastroenteritis.

"Gross," Tommy says, and punches TJ in the shoulder. "You hear that, kid? Stay away from Auntie Maura. She's got veral gasterotomous."

"Gross," Tommy laughs with his father.

Frankie introduces his girlfriend as Jillian. Jane holds out her hand and Jillian takes it slowly, her blue eyes jumping around Jane's body.

"Uh… I d-… wow."

Maura watches as the woman in front of Jane blushes, stuttering over her words.

"Oh, come on," Frankie says beneath his breath. "I told you my sister was a lesbian!"

"Yeah," Jillian says, slowly regaining composure. "You didn't tell me she was gorgeous."

Jane clears her throat and drops Jillian's hand. She says, "Uh, thanks… Jillian," and then puts her hand on Maura's lower back. "This is my wife, Maura."

Maura smiles and nods, and lets herself lean into Jane's side, suddenly feeling possessive.

"Nice to meet you," Jillian says to Maura, and then turns back to Jane. "No, but really. Like, model gorgeous. Your cheek bones are like, oh my god exquisite." Jillian turns to Frankie. "I mean, baby, you're really cute, but your sister is beautiful."

The two siblings and Maura stand in awkward silence. Jane clears her throat again and rubs her thumb on Maura's hip.

Maura pulls her robe tighter around herself, self-conscious that she is still un-showered and in her pajamas when everyone around her is dressed and… gorgeous. "Excuse me," she says, nodding to the group. "I'm just going to…" Her explanation dissipates into the atmosphere as greetings continue around her.

Jane watches her wife step quickly out of the room, fully aware of what is going on in that complex brain of hers. She can't wait to remind Maura how beautiful she is. She glances at the clock on the wall. Twenty three and a half hours.

The sky is overcast, but the air is humid. At Dylan's urging, Maura had put on her new swim suit and a cotton wrap. She sits at the table on the patio, watching her family eat a barbeque lunch and chatter around her. The heat penetrates the patio in a way you don't typically expect from an overcast day; everyone is in beach attire, wearing as little clothing as possible. Jane, Frankie, and Tommy sip beers. Angela and Jillian sip pina coladas. Maura is allowing herself a glass of water, some fruit, and a cup of yogurt.

"I don't like hot dogs," Dylan is telling Angela.

Angela is holding a hot dog on the end of her fork, hovering it over Dylan's plate. "You used to love hot dogs."

"Not anymore. I don't want to eat animal eyeballs." Dylan proceeds to point at TJ and say, "You're eating animal eyeballs! Ewww!"

"Dylan," Maura says. "If you don't want to eat the hot dog, you don't have to. But that's a personal decision and it is not nice to badger others for making a decision that is not the same as yours. Please apologize to your cousin."

"Sorry," Dylan mutters. She tilts her head toward the ground, baseball cap covering most of her face.

"Yeah," TJ says, and then sticks his tongue out at Dylan.

"Hey, buddy," Tommy yells. "Get your butt over here and stop being mean to Dill Pickle."

"She was mean first! And she's a copy-cat." TJ points to the Red Sox cap covering his dark hair.

"Am not!" Dylan squeals.

Maura and Jane make eye contact across the table, and then Jane turns to glare at Tommy.

"Dylan," Maura beckons, patting the chair next to her. Dylan stalks toward her mom.

"Dude," Tommy says to TJ. "She apologized. And just because you're older doesn't mean everything she does is copying you. Dill Pickle's been a Sox fan since almost as long as you have. Am I right, Dill?"

Dylan settles next to Maura with an empty plate. "Ya. My whole entire life, ever since I was a baby. I even went to a game with Mama and we got free ice cream because Mama knew all the answers to the questions."

Nobody quite understands what Dylan means, but nobody asks for an explanation. TJ sulks to Tommy's end of the table. A cool breeze carries sounds from the beach: seagulls squacking, children laughing, waves crashing. The group eats in a few moments of silence.

Dylan crosses her ankles, tiny legs swinging above the ground. She sighs heavily and then squints up at Maura. "Can I have some of your fruit, Mommy?"

"How do you ask nicely?"

"May I please have some fruit?"

"You sure may." Maura spoons some banana, cantaloupe, watermelon, and berries onto her daughter's plate.

"Thank you!"

Jane shakes her head in fond affection, watching her girls from the grill.

Dylan picks up a cube of melon with her fingers and then asks Maura with a full mouth, "What is badger?"

Maura takes a sip of water, slowly translating her definition of the word to the language of a six-year-old. "To badger someone or something is to harass or constantly annoy that person or thing. For instance…" Maura glances up at Jane, who is smiling across the table. "When Mama forgets to feed Jo Friday, and Jo wakes us up in the morning, barking, because she's so hungry? Jo is badgering us."

"Oh." Dylan says, nodding. "I love cantloupe." She pops another cube in her mouth.

"So, Jillian," Angela says. "What do you do?"

Jillian is mid-bite, and takes a minute to chew and swallow. "Sorry. I'm a pediatric nurse."

"That's cool," Jane says. "Maura's a doctor."

"Oh, really?" Jillian glances at Maura, and then looks back to Jane. "So, like, what kind of products do you use on your hair? That wave looks so effortless."

"It really is… effortless. I use shampoo. And it air-dries."

Jillian's jaw drops. "Get out."

"I… am out," Jane says with a grin on her face. Maura smiles at the joke. Frankie rolls his eyes.

"No, but really," Jillian says again. "You don't use anything?"

"Nope."

"Okay, but you work out, right? I mean, your body is like…"

"Of course she works out," Frankie interrupts, pushing his plate away from him. "She's a police officer. Hey babe, you wanna take the kids down to the beach with me?"

"Oh. Sure!" Jillian claps her hands.

TJ and Dylan both look up from their plates.

"Dill," Jane says. "Finish your fruit and I'll walk down there with you. I don't trust these two bozos to get you suncreened up." She jacks a thumb in the direction of her brothers.

While Dylan and TJ shove their mouths full in an attempt to clean their plates, Jane walks around the table to Maura. She pulls her wife's hair over the top of the chair so it hangs towards the ground, and begins to massage her shoulders. Maura watches Jillian watch Jane, and Jane sees it, too.

"How come you don't ever massage me like that?" Jillian says to Frankie.

Frankie shoots Jane a "thank you very much" look.

Jane smirks back.

Frankie says, "This is not an appropriate conversation to have surrounded by my mother and siblings. Let's go." He waves for the kids to follow.

"I'll catch up with you," Jane says.

TJ and Dylan grab their towels and a smattering of footsteps descend to the beach, leaving Jane and Maura alone at the table. Angela gathers the plates into a pile and steps through the patio door, into the kitchen.

"We'll be back for dinner, okay?" Jane says.

Maura nods, her eyes closing. Jane's lean fingers are working her shoulders into a heavenly place, and it takes every ounce of will not to turn her head and kiss her wife.

"How many hours now?" Jane reads her mind.

"Twenty-one."

Jane leans, hovering behind her wife. She exhales near her ear. "Are you sure?"

Maura swallows, nodding. She doesn't trust her voice.

"Okay. You're the boss." Jane stands, and Maura feels her absence like the sun has set.

"Can we go for a walk later?" Maura asks.

Jane grabs the sunblock and another towel. "I would love to."

When the clan goes down to the water, Maura stays and helps Angela clean up the mess from lunch. The two of them are used to these roles, and they work around each other with great ease. Only twenty minutes have passed before everything is washed down and tidied up. They flip through Yelp and finally settle on a restaurant for dinner. Maura calls in reservations. Then, Angela takes the camera and a jug of lemonade down to the water, and Maura is once again left alone to rest.

The sun is low on the horizon when Maura finally hears the patio door slide open. "Babe?" Jane's voice calls.

Maura greets her wife at the bottom of the stairs. "Hi."

"Hi," Jane smiles. Her hair is caked in sand. "Did you get some rest?"

"Yes. Looks like you got some... sand."

"Oh, yeah." Jane tilts her head like she's about to shake her hair out.

"Not in here!" Maura says. She shoos her wife back to the door.

"You ready to walk?" Jane calls, her head upside down, fingers tangled in her hair.

Maura fixes the tie of her wrap. She doesn't bother with sandals. "Ready when you are."

The women stop at the Rizzoli family camp of towels and beach toys. At Dylan's pleading, Maura loses her wrap and spins in a circle for the family to admire the new swim suit, which Dylan had helped her pick out.

Jane's eyes trail her wife's skin, wishing her hands could follow. Before long, she has Maura by the waist, guiding her to the water, towards the sun, away from her family. They don't get free time, alone, together, often. But now, her mom has Dylan. She has Maura and the sunset. She is not letting these minutes go to waste.

"It is SO COLD," Maura says. She is tugging at her wife's hand the way she had watched her daughter tug at it the day before-away from the water.

But Jane doesn't give in to her. "Maur, come on. You'll get used to it. I know this vacation has sucked for you, but I'm not letting you go home without walking in the water a little bit."

Maura sticks out her lower lip, pointing at the goosebumps on her arm.

"Please, babe? With me?"

A white wave laps against their knees, and Maura squeals.

Jane's dimples deepen in amusement. She holds out her arm and Maura tucks herself into her wife's side. They walk slowly for a few minutes, feet dragging in the water. They watch the sky change from blue to lavender.

Maura speaks first. "If I didn't feel so disinclined to assume others' sexualities, I would wonder if Jillian were into women."

Jane snorts, "And if she's not, no doubt my brother's enough to turn her."

"Jane."

"Sorry."

"Did you see the way she was looking at you?"

"What? No way," Jane says. "I was too busy thinking about how beautiful my wife is."

Maura stops walking. She purses her lips and squints her eyes at Jane's perfect response. Too perfect. "I went three days without showering. I was vomiting and diarrhetic for two of those days. I haven't even exercised or, or done anything slightly attractive in over seventy-two hours!"

"Maur," Jane hushes. She pulls her wife into a hug, their bikini-clad bodies flesh against each other. Maura laughs into her wife's chest—at herself, at the situation, at how cold her legs are despite the scorching hot air. "I'm sorry. I know I'm being ridiculous. I just hate being sick. I hate not being able to be active with you and Dylan, and I hate not being able to spend quality time with the family. It's so rare these days, and I just... I miss it. I had all of these fun activities planned..."

"I know. You haven't been this out-of-commission in a really long time. You're dealing with it really well, though."

Maura leans back to look up at Jane. "Thanks."

"I'm going to kiss you now." Jane leans in.

Maura's palm presses against her wife's face. She smiles big, teasing. "Jane! It's not safe yet."

"How about now?" Jane mumbles into Maura's palm.

Maura shakes her head, grinning. "Fifteen hours." She feels Jane's lips purse against the softness of her palm, and her knees threaten to melt beneath her.

"Now?"

"No!" But Maura is laughing, and lowering her hand.

Jane leans in, but Maura, feeling playful, pulls away again, leaning to the side. "Woman!" Jane says, frustrated now.

Maura sees the hint of a grin on her wife's face. She lifts her hands and says, "Okay, okay."

Jane eyes her. She clasps her hand around the skin of Maura's waist as if to say "don't you dare do that again." Maura's hands rests on Jane's chest, thumbs brushing her neck, lips parted and waiting.

But neither of them have noticed that in their play, they have stepped further into the water. Just as Maura is about to give in to her wife, a wave crashes against their legs. Maura loses her balance first. Jane, in an attempt to keep Maura upright, throws her hands out to find only air. They fall into the water in a tangle of limbs and white wash.

The salt water sprays around them, and then the ocean goes silent as the waves lull, and the current draws them away from the shore. Jane hovers over her wife as water moves around them. Maura's thigh is pressed between her legs. Jane has never felt so desperate.

Maura strains her neck until their lips finally clash, immediately parting for familiar tongues. Water laps against their bodies, pushing and pulling in every direction. Maura's arms wrap around her wife's neck, and her ankles hook behind Jane's back. Jane pulls them upright just as another wave crashes against them.

Maura squeals again, hugging Jane tighter.

"I got you," Jane says into her wife's salty neck.

Forehead against forehead. Slippery skin on slippery skin. Rapid heartbeat with rising pulse. And then they are engulfed in each other with four days of pent-up, Florida heated passion. Maura's hands are tangled in Jane's wet hair. Jane's hands grip the backs of her wife's thighs, the bob of the water helping to hold her in place. They move with the waves, separating only so Jane can glance at the water during the lulls.

"You know what I'd do right now," Jane says to her wife's mouth, "if my family wasn't up-shore?"

"Mmm..." Maura hums into Jane's upper lip.

"I'd take us deeper into the water..." She lets her tongue slip down her wife's neck. "...and I'd take you right here."

Maura groans.

"But that wouldn't be a very civil thing for a police officer to do, would it?"

Maura hums, smiling to the sky. "But it would be hot."

"It would be very, very hot."

Back up the beach, TJ has stopped digging in the sand to glare into the now-orange sky. He makes out two silhouetted figures, waist-deep in the high tide.

"Gross!" he says to Dylan. "Your moms are kissing!"

Dylan shrugs. "Kissing means love. Growed-up mommies are supposed to do that."

"Ya, but it's still gross."

She knows she's not supposed to say mean things. She knows she's supposed to make good choices. But Dylan's moms are her favorite people in the whole wide world. So she turns to her scrawny cousin and says, "You're gross," and then throws her toy to the sand and walks toward the water.

The Rizzoli family clan is exhausted by the end of the hike up the hill at the park down the road from the beach house. The adults drop bags of snacks and water bottles and fan out, looking for the best place to camp for the fireworks. Maura, oblivious to what everyone else is doing, takes a blanket from the bag on Jane's shoulder and spreads it under a large Jacaranda tree near the apex of the hill. She smashes a padded backrest against the trunk of the tree and settles against it.

"Dylan," she calls. "Come here."

Dylan climbs into Maura's lap. Maura wraps her arms around her daughter and breathes in the fresh clothes and quickly disappearing but still intoxicating scent of her baby girl.

"May I braid your hair for you?"

"Ya! Only one braid, though. I don't want two braids." Dylan fingers her wet curls.

"Okay, I'll only do one. Turn around." Maura pats the spot in front of her, and Dylan crosses her legs away from her mom.

"Hey Maur?" Jane calls from the pile of bags that Frankie and Tommy had dropped twenty feet away.

"Hmm," Maura hums with a bobby pin between her lips.

"I don't think you'll be able to see the fireworks from under that tree." Jane points at the overhanging branches.

Maura's hands pause in Dylan's hair. She looks up, and then straight out over the park, and then glances at Jane before returning to the braid. She finishes the braid, bobby pins a couple of stray curls, and then squeezes her daughter into a tight, slightly ticklish hug before releasing her.

Dylan giggles and jumps up. As she runs away, she yells looking over her shoulder, "You can't get me, Mommy!"

Maura smiles at Dylan and then says to Jane, "I think we're high enough that we'll be looking out more than we will up. The angle from here to where I conjecture the fireworks will explode is really not all that obtuse."

"Mommy!"

"Alright," Jane says. "Whatever you say. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Mooooooooommmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyy! You're supposed to chaaaaaase meeee!"

"I can't chase you, sweetie," Maura says to her pouty girl. "Not yet."

Dylan's arms fall to her sides as she starts a slow trudge towards Maura, ready to collapse into a heap of sadness in her mother's lap. "Why not?"

But Jane jumps in between her two girls, yelling, "Because you're too busy running from meeee!" Jane's arms are lifted, her face distorted into her best monster face. "Aaaaarrrrrghhh!"

Dylan screams and bolts down the hill.

"Not too far!" Maura yells after them.

TJ plops next to Maura, both their pairs of eyes trained forward. "Dylan's a slow runner," he says. "Aunt Jane could totally catch her if she was actually trying."

"Oh, hush. Dylan is six and in the lower height range for her age. She should hit a growth spurt soon. And what's the fun in playing chase if the monster catches you before you even get an endorphin hit?"

TJ blinks at his aunt and then stands. "I'm gunna go find my dad."

"Put. Them. Away." Jane is staring down her little brother, and staring him down hard.

"Jane. They are sparklers."

"Tommy? Those are not sparklers. Sparklers are little guys on sticks. Those are fireworks. They are ILLEGAL."

"Come on, Jane!" He's one step away from stomping his feet and pouting.

"No." Jane flips her hair and crosses her arms across her chest.

"Frankie." Tommy turns to their brother.

Frankie's busy have eying sex with Jillian, who is sprawled on the blanket with a grin on her face. "Sorry, man."

"Ma?"

"Oh, Janie. You kids used to do your own fireworks all the time growing up."

Jane covers her face with her hands and grumbles into them, trying to clear her head and simmer her frustration. She looks up. "I have so many things to say right now, Ma, but the main things are that, A) We are not kids anymore, B) We now have kids to whom we need to teach the differences between right and wrong, and C) Frankie and I are both cops and just can't allow blatant illegal activity." She turns to Tommy. "There are trees everywhere. It's not safe. There will be a perfectly good firework show in like, twenty minutes. Just sit your ass down and wait for it."

Tommy grabs the bag from the table and begins to strut down the hill. "TJ!" he calls.

TJ spins from where he is talking to Dylan.

"Come on! Let's go find some pavement!"

"Yeah!" TJ jumps up and runs towards his father.

"Oh, nice!" Jane says to his back.

Tommy raises his hand without looking over his shoulder.

Jane groans. She stands in defeat for a minute while Frankie sits back down on the blanket next to Jillian, and Angela walks over to Dylan. Jane's eyes find her wife, who is sitting alone under the tree, watching her.

"I swear," Jane says as she saunters up to Maura. "Talking to Tommy is like talking to a toddler with his ears plugged yelling LALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU."

Maura chuckles. "I was impressed by your correct use of the word 'whom.'"

"Thanks, I learn from the best." Jane looks lovingly down at her wife. "Scootch forward?"

And a smile expands from Maura's lips to her eyes as she bends her legs and scoots.

Jane lowers herself between Maura and the tree. She wraps her arms around her wife, who relaxes back into her.

"Tell me if I'm squishing you," Maura says. Her cheek is at Jane's jaw—the bottom of her skull in the space between Jane's neck and shoulder.

Jane turns her lips into Maura's cheek, "Oh, yeah. All one hundred pounds of you are killing me."

"One hundred and eighteen point five."

Jane presses her lips against her wife's face. She squeezes her arms and Maura closes her eyes and they rock for a long moment, loving the feel of each other.

The lights in the park dim.

"The fireworks are starting!" the women hear Angela yell from a little down the hill.

"She has Dylan, right?" Maura says quietly, her eyes only peeking open just to close again.

"Yeah."

A speaker attached to a light post nearby crackles to life. Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages… get ready for the most explosive event of the season… One lone Roman Candle shoots into the air and explodes in a burst of gold. Jane bites her tongue at the dirty joke floating through her mind and waits for her wife to make a comment about being right about the angle from the tree—but it never comes. The boom follows a moment later. Slowly, music fills the air and a colorful series of Peony fireworks appear in the navy sky.

It only takes a few minutes for Dylan and Angela to trudge up the hill to the tree. Dylan is in tears with her hands over her ears and Angela's face is blank.

"She doesn't like the sound," Angela shrugs.

Dylan plops into Maura's lap and curls into a ball, much like she had a couple of mornings earlier, when they had found Maura hunched over the toilet bowl. Maura links her fingers around Dylan's bottom and puts her chin at the start of the braid she had just woven.

Jane shifts, reaching her hand to smooth Dylan's cheek since Maura's hands are occupied.

"You know, sweetie," Maura says to the little ear pressed against her chest. "Those big booms are really just tiny cardboard shells. The explosion is just the release of gas due to a chemical burning reaction."

"They are?" Dylan asks Maura's cleavage.

And Maura thinks she's never heard a sound so sweet and so tender in her life. She knows that Dylan doesn't understand what she has just said, but she also knows that sometimes, like herself when she was younger, hearing the explanation of how things work-even just knowing that there is an explanation, a reason, a cause-makes those same things much less scary for her daughter.

"They really are," she affirms.

Dylan's hand sneaks up Maura's tank top and rests on her warm belly. Maura closes her eyes and inhales the scents of her baby girl, soaking in the intimacy that had become increasingly rare as Dylan gets older and learns about boundaries and respecting others' bodies.

"It looks like they're gunna fall on us," Dylan says, her face still pressed into Maura's chest.

"No way, Jose," Jane says, and waits for the response she knows will come.

"Hey, I'm not Jose," Dylan says shyly.

And Jane and Maura both smile—Maura, into the underside of Jane's jaw, pressing soft lips where she knows her wife loves them. She then tilts her head to Dylan's. "Do you know how high up in the air those fireworks are?"

Dylan sniffs, her fingers tracing patterns across her mom's hip. "No."

"They are one thousand five hundred feet in the air. They're practically in the clouds."

Dylan's hand stills and then pulls away as she shifts her body so she can see the fireworks again. Somewhere not so far away, the music crackles into a jazzy rendition of the Star Spangled Banner.

Maura continues, "Do you think they could fall all the way from waaaaaayy up there?"

"Maybe not," Dylan says.

Maura hugs her closer. "That's right, babygirl. Maybe not."

And the three of them just sit and hug each other through the climax of the show.

At one point, Jane slaps Maura's arm.

Maura lifts off her wife to look at her, consequently moving Dylan as well. "Ow!" Maura says.

Jane shrugs. "Mosquito."

Dylan giggles, and they relax again. As the last of the Glitter Palms dissipate into the atmosphere, Dylan straightens her torso and says, "I'm gunna go see if Nana wants me to braid her hair."

"Be gentle," Maura says. She pats her daughter on the bottom, and Dylan sprints away.

All around them, people are standing, stretching, yawning, bending to pack up their things. Children are running in circles, using up the last of their energy before they collapse into sobbing messes.

Jane breathes into her wife's temple. "You're the best mom, you know that?"

"Mhmm," Maura hums, turning her head to Jane's. She lifts her hand to cup her wife's cheek and pulls Jane's lips down to hers.

Jane breaks the kiss. "You're supposed to say: No, you're the best mom."

"What, just because we're both women means I have to give up my inherent right to being the best mom?"

Jane is about to make a face, but Maura doesn't let her. She twists her body even more so that their mouths can make full contact. Jane's hand finds the warm sliver of skin on her wife that Dylan had left exposed and pushes under and across the hem of Maura's cotton shirt.

"How tired are you?" Jane rasps between kisses.

"Not too tired to make love to you tonight," Maura whispers back.

"No?"

"Never." Maura's hands find Jane's hair and suddenly they are fighting for control.

"Get a room!" Tommy yells.

And the kiss breaks, both women breathing heatedly into each other's mouths before turning to see their entire family watching them.

"I think they're a totally hot couple," Jillian says to Frankie.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go," Frankie says.

"Ma!" Jane yells. "Can you take Dill? We'll be right behind you."

Angela waves.

Maura leans into her original position, her back against Jane's chest. They watch their family gather the bags and start down the hill.

"Can we do this more often?" Jane says into Maura's ear. Her hand slips back up the front of Maura's shirt and rests on her belly.

"If you're willing to take more time off work, yes."

"Oh, says the woman who just spent her entire vacation reading scientific journal articles directly related to her line of work."

Maura raises a finger into the air to emphasize her point. "That doesn't count. I was sick."

"You loved it."

"Maybe." Maura turns her head to nuzzle her face into Jane's neck. "I definitely love you, though."

Jane sighs. "I love you, too."