Chapter Summary: During their first week of couple's therapy, Bette and Tina talk about their regrets in an effort to forgive each other and move forward once and for all.
"So," Dr. Coleman prompted as Bette and Tina seated themselves on the sofa across from her. "What are your goals here?"
Bette and Tina turned to each other, mouths agape, each woman hoping the other would offer to succinctly articulate their goals. They hadn't thought to prepare a script ahead of time.
"I mean, I know a fair amount about you and your relationship from the intake form," Dr. Coleman continued, seeing that her new patients were at a loss. "But when these sessions are over and you two go back to your lives without a weekly intermediary, what do you want?"
Bette's brow furrowed. Wasn't that obvious? "We want to stay together."
Dr. Coleman offered a quick nod of assent and then turned to Tina, waiting expectantly.
"We both want that," Tina confirmed. "To learn those skills, to build up that trust—to ensure that our partnership lasts." She looked over at Bette beside her—all sharp jaw and loose curls, all wide brown eyes—and reached out for her hand, smiling shyly at her. "Forever, this time."
Meeting hazel eyes, Bette smiled back. She interlaced their fingers and felt Tina give her a reassuring squeeze. Because Tina knew her well—better than anyone else ever had, or had bothered to. And Tina knew that therapy—and all the vulnerability that inevitably accompanied that—did not come easy to her. Yet here Bette was, doing it, anyway.
Dr. Coleman looked between them for a moment, her expression neutral and well-practiced. "Okay," she quipped. "It sounds like you want the same thing—which is more than I can say for most of my patients. That's a good start." She crossed one knee over the other.
Interpreting the movement as the therapist's version of hunkering down, Bette and Tina leaned forward a little with anticipation, ready and willing to take on whatever came next.
"You two have been together, on and off, for twenty-five years. Is that right?"
Bette and Tina nodded.
"So you're long past the initial spark, the excitement of discovery, the anticipation of sex," Dr. Coleman continued. "Not to say that there still isn't all that—but it's to a lesser degree. What a relationship really comes down to now, when you've known your partner for that long, is choice." She paused for a moment to emphasize her words. "Now, your relationship has to be a daily practice of choosing each other—over everything. Your commitment to sustaining your relationship has to come before your ego, your anxiety, your anger, your fear of ennui. You have to actively combat the ennui," she added.
Again, Bette and Tina nodded, ready to do the work.
"There are a handful of qualities shared by healthy relationships and happy couples," Dr. Coleman informed them. "The first one is coming to terms with your past so that you can fully invest in your present and future. And your past spans twenty-five years." She looked between Bette and Tina and raised an eyebrow. "Am I right to assume that there are still some events of your past that may need some . . . processing?"
Bette frowned, and Tina bit the inside of her cheek.
Sensing their discomfort, Dr. Coleman shrugged. "The only way out is through." Then, she handed each woman a blank journal and pen. "I don't think you need me as a mediator or intermediary, at least not initially—so there's no sense keeping you here for the full hour. And, given your relationship's tumultuous history—"
Bette made a face, resenting that word choice.
"—I'm sure that you've hurt each other and, because you love each other, I'm sure that you feel bad about that. But there's no use dwelling on the past. So I want you to go home and each make a list of your regrets—what still needs addressing—and I want you to talk them through together."
Tina clicked her pen. Bette traced her journal's cover.
"Then, after you've talked them through, I want you to forgive each other so that you're able to move forward without letting those old resentments ever appear in present and future conflicts," Dr. Coleman continued.
Bette and Tina gulped. They had never been good at processing their feelings about their relationship—and now, there it was, their very first homework assignment: Talk through all your regrets. No pressure.
"Now, just as a reminder," Dr. Coleman prefaced before letting them go, "you two are a team. And, when problems come up, it's you two against the problem—not against each other." She gave them a stern look. "You're building trust here. Remember that a feeling is different from a fact—it can't be proven wrong or argued out of. You can't convince someone not to feel it. And, when that's hard to accept, the goal is to respond—not to react."
"Oh, and one more assignment," Dr. Coleman added when they were halfway out the door. Bette's hand on the small of Tina's back, they both turned around.
The therapist smiled wanly. "Sleep naked tonight." And, watching her patients' eyes cut to each other, their expressions confused, she added, "You're not going to be happy with each other after opening all these old wounds. But," she smirked a little, "being naked will resolve the conflict a lot more quickly than if you're clothed."
Out in the parking garage, Bette opened the passenger door to the car. "Something tells me that these sessions are going to be . . . invasive."
Sitting beside her, Tina smiled. "I had hoped that she would start us off with something easy—not with a full post-mortem."
"Me, too," Bette nodded, her jaw tight.
And, easily recognizing that Bette was on-edge, Tina dropped her hand to her knee. "It's not going to be easy," she lamented, "airing out all of our lasting regrets and all the things we're still hurting over. But if it means moving past all that for good . . ."
"It's worth it," Bette finished. "I know." She offered Tina a small smile. "It's absolutely worth it."
That afternoon, they split up—Tina in the office, Bette at the dining room table—to work on their lists.
Half an hour later, Tina descended the stairs.
Bette looked up at the sound of footsteps against the hardwood and smiled at the sight of Tina's face. "Hey. You ready?"
Tina scrunched up her nose. "Ready as I'll ever be, probably." Setting her journal beside Bette's on the table, she leaned down to press a quick kiss to full lips. "I'm going to make us some tea, okay?"
Bette nodded, vaguely amused that, even now, tea served as a comfort between them.
In the kitchen, Tina turned on the water kettle and reached into the cupboard for two mugs. As she dropped a teabag into each cup, she felt strong arms encircle her from behind, the weight of Bette's chin tucking itself into her shoulder.
Resting her arms over Bette's, Tina hummed contentedly. It had already been a week since they'd gotten back together but, still, she wasn't used to this—the reality of Bette being there, and being hers, back in each other's arms.
She leaned back into the touch, reveling in Bette's warmth, in her safety and strength. "I love you."
"I love you," Bette murmured, pressing a kiss to blonde hair.
A moment later, Tina turned around in Bette's arms, wanting to look at her face. She lifted her hands, pushing back loose curls to better see the brunette's features. "We don't have to do this today."
"I know." Bette rested her palms on Tina's soft waist. "I think we should, but I'm also . . . scared."
Needing further information, Tina's brows furrowed.
"We've been in this little happy bubble for the past week," Bette continued. "I'm worried that talking through our regrets—and the pain that accompanies them—will pop it."
Tina inhaled a shallow breath. "Yeah," she whispered. "I'm scared, too."
They stared at each other for a minute, not knowing what to say but also content to exist in the quiet as Bette's thumb caressed the curve of Tina's waist and Tina twirled a dark curl around her finger.
"But it will be okay," Tina promised—perhaps a reminder to them both. "Whatever comes up, we'll get through it together."
Sitting side by side on the living room sofa, Bette and Tina dropped their journals onto the coffee table, each one flipped open to the first page.
Bette's list:
Cheating
Letting you go
Everything I didn't do
Tina's list:
Henry
The divorce
Kit
Bette cleared her throat. "So, how should we do this?"
Tina shrugged. "Should we just . . . go one by one? We can each kind of . . . address the regret and then see what happens?"
"Okay," Bette agreed, her voice small. And then, generously offering herself up as the proverbial guinea pig, she read the first item on her list aloud: "Cheating on you," she began, "is, um, one of my biggest regrets." She paused for a moment, meeting hazel eyes that suddenly were so focused on her. Then, breaking eye contact, she looked down, brushing a piece of lint off her pants. "I'll regret it for the rest of my life."
"Bette . . ." Tina breathed, her voice unbelievably gentle.
Hesitantly, Bette looked up, meeting clear hazel eyes.
Tina reached out, tucking a curl behind the brunette's ear. "I don't want you to hold onto that guilt anymore."
Bette exhaled a shaky breath, her expression still filled with doubt.
"I forgave you when we first got back together—before Angie. I chose to get past it," Tina vowed. "And, then, later, when you promised that it would never happen again—and you kept that promise—I let it go completely."
She paused, perusing Bette's face, her watery eyes. "You don't need to regret that anymore. I know that it will never happen again, and I trust you completely now—with my life, with my heart. Which is maybe the same thing," she added, smiling a little.
Bette smiled with her. Already, her eyes were brimming.
Tina's thumbs came up to wipe Bette's damp cheeks as a few tears spilled over. "I promise you that I'm not just being generous when I say all this. I don't harbor any resentment over that—or any pain, even. You shouldn't, either."
Bette nodded softly, trying to swallow. "Okay." She let out a long breath of air, exhaling her guilt along with it.
Tina leaned in, lovingly pressing her lips to Bette's. She lingered there for a moment before pulling away, leaning over the coffee table to cross off the word CHEATING on Bette's list, glad to document their forward progress.
Tina's turn came next, and she looked down, reading the first item on her list: HENRY.
Beside her, Bette leaned down to read the name, too. Then, her eyes flicked back up as she focused her attention on Tina. With her lips scrunched to one side, the blonde looked anxious—and Bette instantly wanted to quell that anxiety. "Tina," she began, her voice adoring, "there's no reason for you to feel badly about Henry. We can't help who we fall in love with."
"I know," Tina conceded as she brushed back her hair. "It's not that so much as the way I treated you when I was with him. I was so pissed at you all the time—and so selfish. It wasn't fair."
"It was over sixteen years ago," Bette soothed. "I've more than forgiven you." She reached out, hand caressing Tina's jean-clad thigh. "We've both dated other people while figuring ourselves out over the years, but we've ultimately always chosen each other. I think that's all that really matters now."
Tina squeezed Bette's hand.
"At least for me," Bette continued, "all that pain over your former relationships is gone now that we're back and planning for our future. Henry, Jodi, Carrie . . . they're all just small parts in our long story."
"That's true," Tina smiled. "Now that we're together, a lot of that old hurt is gone." Then, turning back to her list to cross off HENRY, she frowned when she remembered her second major regret. This one was a lot more recent and, she knew, came with a lot more baggage.
Bette followed Tina's eyes, and her brows flew up at the sight of the words: THE DIVORCE. She looked back at Tina with a confused expression. "You regret asking for a divorce?"
"Kind of, yeah," Tina admitted. "Or, at least, I regret the way I went about it," she added, her eyes attentive on Bette's face. "I needed space, but I wish I first had tried a trial separation or just moving out or something." She frowned. "I don't know. Asking for 'a break' probably wouldn't have been fair to you, anyway."
"It would have hurt less," Bette admitted with a hint of dark humor.
"Maybe it would've had the same result, though," Tina admitted. "Maybe we needed a clean break—or as clean as possible, at least."
Bette nodded. "You needed to be on your own for a while."
"I know," Tina agreed. "It's not necessarily a fair regret, because I know a lot more now than I did then—about myself, about us. But, from where I stand now, I wish I hadn't left." Pursing her lips, she met brown eyes. "From where I stand now, I wish you hadn't let me go."
"Me, too," Bette agreed with a small smile—a brief moment of levity. ". . . Which brings us to my next regret." She reached for her journal lying open on the coffee table and handed it to Tina.
Tina scanned Bette's list, immediately spotting the item in question: LETTING YOU GO. "Yeah," she breathed. She read ahead to Bette's next item, too, which felt related: EVERYTHING I DIDN'T DO.
Reading the words alongside Tina, Bette sighed. "I regret a few things I've done but, even more, I regret everything I didn't do."
Tina reached out for Bette's hand, wanting to offer the brunette a little comfort—and wanting some for herself, too.
"Like never prioritizing you over my career," Bette continued. "Or never prioritizing yours at all." She shrugged. "Like letting you go—first with Henry, then with the divorce—and not even really putting up a fight."
Tina sniffled.
"It's not that I didn't want to fight for you, though," Bette assured her. "Both times, if I had thought there was any hope, I would've done anything to make you stay. If I thought it would have make a difference, I would have begged you on my knees." She paused, searching Tina's face. "You know that. Right?"
Rubbing at the back of her own neck, Tina nodded. "I do now. I didn't know that back then, though—whether you didn't fight as a kindness to me or because you just . . . didn't really care."
Bette tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "I cared. I have always been in love with you, so . . . it broke me—you wanting to leave. I felt like I couldn't do anything but watch the world collapse right in front of me."
Tina shook her head, regretful of her own behavior again. "I should've done things so differently."
"Me, too," Bette empathized. "I mean, I shouldn't have made you feel like your only choice was to go. And, when it was, I should have at least made it clear how much you're worth fighting for."
Tina looked down, exhaling a long breath. "That . . . would have saved me a lot of heartache." She thought back to how she had felt during that difficult year before the divorce, and the few years that followed. To how often she had questioned Bette's commitment to her and their partnership, even when they were married—and how hard that had been. What it had felt like to watch Bette move on—first with Gigi, then with Pippa—while Tina herself was still unable to commit fully to Carrie. How lonely it had been—to feel so alone in her wanting.
Bette ran her hand through her hair, overwhelmed by the reality of how much she had hurt Tina with her behavior over the years—the last thing that she had ever wanted to do. Meeting hazel eyes, all she could do was apologize, even though she knew that it wasn't enough. "I'm sorry."
Offering Bette a weak smile, Tina squeezed her hand once and then let go, setting her palm safely back in her own lap.
Bette's jaw tightened in anxiety as she recognized that Tina clearly wasn't quite ready to forgive her yet—at least not for this. And, as much as it pained her, Bette respected Tina's process. So, rather than dwelling on the moment or pushing for some sort of resolution, she leaned over to read Tina's next regret—the final one on either of their lists.
One name. Three letters. KIT.
When Bette looked back up at her, Tina shrugged helplessly in response, knowing there was no good defense for her behavior—there was only apology. "I should have been there—when Kit died. She was my family, too. I should have gone to the funeral."
They were quiet for a long moment, the truth sitting uncomfortably between them.
Then: "You know," Bette began, looking down at her hands in her lap and distractedly picking at a cuticle, "despite everything we'd been through, we were both always . . . present. Even during every breakup."
Tina waited.
"One of us would fuck up—but we would never fuck off," Bette continued. "After I cheated, I was still there for you. With Henry, you were still there for me. With Jodi, you and I still saw each other almost every day. In part, that was because of Angie—but also . . . it was because we've always been each other's family."
Tina exhaled an uneven breath, easily recognizing where Bette was going with this, and how hurt Bette still was—how much she had hurt her.
"With Kit, that was the first time that I felt that you had fucked off," Bette continued. "My whole family was dead—or at least dead to me. You and Angie were all I had left, and you couldn't even bother showing up."
Tina knew that there were many things she could say to explain the behavior—why she had felt like she couldn't go, why the idea alone had felt so impossible back in the early days of their divorce—but what mattered then was only that Bette was still in pain, and an explanation unlikely would have changed that. She crossed one leg over the other.
Beside her, Bette pulled her knees into her chest, hugging them tight.
Noting their new positioning, Tina recognized that there were some things that neither of them were quite ready to let go of quite yet. In the meantime, all she could do was own up to her mistake. "You're right. And I'm sorry."
Bette tried to smile, but it didn't make it to her eyes.
Tina offered a weak attempt at a smile, too.
Later that night, as she pulled back the duvet to get into bed, Tina remembered the second half of their assignment from Dr. Coleman: Sleep naked tonight. And, as she met brown eyes a few feet away, she realized that Bette had just remembered, too.
Generally, Tina wasn't shy about nudity—and certainly not around Bette. But after their day of vulnerability—and the lasting tension—the idea of being naked made her feel on edge.
Still, willing to make an effort—regardless of the discomfort—Tina pulled her T-shirt over her head and pulled off her shorts and underwear, turning around and strolling over to her closet to throw the clothes into the laundry hamper.
As she slowly pulled off her own pajama set, Bette's eyes followed Tina's retreating form, and she felt her heart stutter at the sight. Because it didn't matter how long she had known Tina, or how many times she had made love to her. Even more than twenty-five years since they first met, seeing Tina naked still managed to take her breath away. The dimples on her back, that soft curve of her abdomen, those toned forearms . . .
Walking back toward the bed, Tina's pace faltered at the sight of Bette sitting down, tucking herself under the sheets, beautiful and effortless and gloriously naked—in more ways than one.
Tina had always loved Bette like this: no makeup, no button-down, no performance. This was the Bette that only she ever got to see—and, as always, it gave Tina a certain thrill. And then, of course, there was the simple fact that the sexiest woman in the world—at least by her standards—was sitting naked in her bed, which had since become their bed. That reality wasn't lost on Tina, either.
Scooting in, Tina relished the feel of the cool sheets against her bare skin. As she curled onto her side to face Bette, she watched as Bette paralleled the position.
Bette smiled, just the tiniest bit, when Tina met her eyes. Because, already, this was different—and that was progress. Where, before the divorce, she and Tina would have shut themselves off completely when they were upset, now, they were wholly open and ready to face the conflict head-on together.
Tina bit her bottom lip as her eyes adjusted to the darkness in the room. "I know today was . . . a lot. I'm sorry."
Bette shook her head. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she promised. She reached out, tucking a blonde strand of hair behind Tina's ear, the touch almost hesitant. "I'm happy to do any therapy assignment—even if it's uncomfortable. Because I meant what I said: I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I want to love you better every day."
At that, Tina smiled. "We're learning how to love each other better. And part of that means practicing processing things out loud instead of just ignoring them. It's hard, but . . . so is everything worth having."
"Yeah," Bette agreed. "And I'm glad to work hard if it means I get to be with you."
Her expression full of love, Tina rested her hand, palm-up, in the empty space between them—an invitation for Bette to take it in hers, maybe. If she wanted to.
And, immediately, Bette accepted that invitation. She rested her palm in Tina's, lightly tracing the contours of her fingers.
"Bette, I really do regret it," Tina began. "I wish so badly that I had been there for you after Kit."
Bette sighed. "Me, too."
"But I promise you that, from now on, I'll always be there," Tina continued, "to share your pain and your joy with you."
Bette felt a prick behind her eyes as she was reassured, once again, that Tina was as committed to this as she was—that Tina was here to stay. "I love you. And I'm sorry that I couldn't say it earlier, but: I forgive you. I so forgive you."
Tina's eyes widened, suddenly full of hope. "Really?"
Bette nodded. "All we can do now is change our behavior going forward. And I promise that mine will change, too—that you'll never have to question how committed I am to you, and that I'll make sure you feel loved and prioritized every single day."
Tina sparkled at her. "I know you will. And I forgive you, too." Lifting her other hand, she caressed the skin of Bette's shoulder, inadvertently interfering with the sheet's tenuous positioning. She watched as it slipped down a toned bicep, revealing Bette's bare chest.
"Are you sure?" Bette pressed. "Because we don't have to resolve everything tonight. It's okay if you still need some time."
Tina shook her head. "I don't need any more time," she vowed. Then, she smiled a little, her voice playful. "And I swear I'm not just saying that because you're naked."
At that, Bette laughed. "The therapist did say that doing this would resolve conflicts more quickly."
Beneath the duvet, Tina reached for Bette's hip. "Well, I'm only human. And you're, you know, you."
Her hand smoothing over a pink cheek, Bette raised an eyebrow, suddenly flirtatious. "Are you trying to seduce me?"
Tina shrugged coyly. "Depends. Are you open to being seduced?"
Bette grinned, scooting in close enough that their legs intertwined. "By you? Always."
"Good," Tina dimpled, leaning in to press a kiss to full lips. Running her hand over a strong back, she pulled Bette closer, shuddering at the feeling of soft breasts brushing against hers.
Humming in approval, Bette reached for the nape of Tina's neck, demanding continued contact. Deepening the kiss, she groaned at the taste of Tina's mouth, the feel of a tongue tracing over hers.
As Bette palmed her trapezius, Tina sucked on a full bottom lip, loving the way she could feel Bette's breath come faster in response.
"God," Bette panted, pulling Tina tighter against her. She buried her face in a warm neck, teeth scraping over skin.
After another minute, Tina altered their positioning, rolling on top of Bette, their bodies pressed tight. She leaned down, capturing full lips in a slow, deep kiss.
Bette eagerly reciprocated, her arms wrapping around Tina's back to keep her close. Ever so gently, she rolled her hips, unable to help herself from pressing her clit to Tina's bare thigh.
And, feeling Bette's thigh against her center, Tina ground down in response, eyes falling shut in response to the delicious pressure.
Bette groaned at the feeling. "Fuck."
Tina smiled, oddly prideful, as she ground down her hips again—and she gasped as Bette's wetness coated her skin, thigh slipping easily against her. She buried her face in Bette's neck, inhaling the scent of her curls. She lined a sharp jawline with kisses, making her way toward full lips.
Bette reached for Tina's cheek, pulling her face to hers and sucking on a bottom lip. "I love you." She kissed her cheek, her nose, her philtrum. I love you, I love you, I love you.
Tina pulled back, just far enough to feast her eyes on Bette's face. Tracing the sharp line of her jaw, she smiled softly. "I'm so lucky to have you." She leaned in, dropping another kiss to Bette's lips, and then moved lower, sucking on the column of her neck, nipping at her clavicle.
Bette let her eyes fall closed, focused wholly on the sensation of Tina's mouth worshiping her skin, the delicious weight of her body on top of hers . . .
Tina wrapped her lips around a dark nipple, circling it with her tongue. Her other hand came up to play with Bette's opposite nipple, feeling it harden beneath her palm.
Bette's back arched, a strangled moan falling from her throat.
Moving to alternate to the other breast, Tina pressed a kiss to Bette's sternum. "I love you." As she playfully scraped her teeth over Bette's hardened nipple, she looked up and met soulful brown eyes.
Bette reached out, brushing back blonde waves, her touch impossibly gentle.
Tina smiled at her for a moment and then continued her descent, kissing a line down Bette's torso, licking the hollow of her hip—a move that always drove the brunette wild. She moved lower, pressing her lips to smooth thighs, watching in amusement at the way Bette's abdominal muscles tightened in response.
Breathing in, she caught the scent of Bette's arousal and Tina felt her mouth water, desperate for a taste.
Hoping to encourage her to move a little faster, Bette wiggled her hips, smiling at the sound of Tina's low chuckle.
Tina dropped another kiss to Bette's hip before looking up at her. "I'm taking my time," she insisted, voice full of love. "Let me savor you."
As Tina continued her slow exploration of strong inner thighs, Bette reached out for her hand, wanting that additional connection.
Entwining their fingers, Tina edged closer, running her lips higher, higher . . .
Bette bit back her whimper, her desire to say Tina, please. Because, despite her body's apparent impatience, she was thankful for the unhurried, loving reconnection—especially after the day they'd had.
And, then, finally—growing impatient herself—Tina wrapped her arm around a tan thigh, lowering her head to flatten her tongue against Bette's clit.
"Yes," Bette hissed out, her head digging into the pillow. She squeezed Tina's hand in hers.
The pressure still feather-light and teasing, Tina licked a line up Bette's slit, humming at the taste of her.
Bette shivered at the vibration, her other hand knotting in blonde hair to keep Tina close.
Tina smiled at the familiar act as she ducked her head again, lips wrapping around Bette's clit at last and applying steady pressure.
"Oh, god," Bette threw a pillow over her head, her nails digging into the cotton.
Tina continued her unrelenting movements and, when Bette's hips began moving at a quickened rhythm, she gladly kept pace.
Listening to Bette's erotic breathing, shallow and full of need, Tina released her grip on a bronze thigh, tucking her hand between her own legs to rub circles around her clit. Her breath shuddered out at the sensation, mouth briefly faltering against Bette's center.
Feeling the sudden change in rhythm, Bette blinked her eyes open, looking down at the sight of Tina's lips wrapping her lips around her clit again as she pleasured herself with her own hand.
And, despite the fact that she was on the verge of an orgasm from the mere sight of that, she forced herself to remain focused, reaching for Tina's arm to stop her before she was too far gone. "Come here," she urged, pulling Tina closer. "I want to come together."
And, immediately knowing what Bette wanted, Tina smiled as they both sat up. Letting her legs fall onto either side of Bette's torso, she leaned in, pressing her lips to Bette's, their mouths immediately opening against each other's.
Bette groaned at the taste of herself, her hands caressing Tina's back, pulling her close enough that she could feel full breasts against hers. Tucking her hand between their bodies, she parted Tina's folds, almost growling at how wet she was. She lifted her middle finger, running it over a distended clit.
Tina inhaled a sharp breath, and Bette smiled, kissing her again.
Tina paralleled the action, encircling Bette's clit with a finger. Her other hand reached for Bette's face, pulling her into a kiss with a new hunger. She pushed two fingers into her, swallowing a gasp.
Bette matched the movement, establishing a steady rhythm while her thumb kept contact with Tina's clit. Resting her forehead on Tina's shoulder, she took in the sight of their moving hands, fingers lost inside each other.
"God, that feels so good," Tina panted, feeling herself already getting close.
Bette pulled her in for another long kiss, increasingly sloppy as it quickly devolved into them breathing into each other's mouths, occasionally groaning . . .
Tina moaned softly and, sensing that she was close, Bette pulled back to meet the sight of bruised lips, rosy cheeks, hazel eyes that had turned almost black. Her breaths coming fast, she kept her gaze on Tina's face—watching as her eyes screwed shut, mouth opening into a silent scream as she came.
The sight of Tina unraveling was enough to push Bette over the edge. Crying out, her whole body began shaking alongside the blonde's as they worked to keep up their movements against each other's centers, gasping for air and clinging to one another, desperate to sustain the pleasure as long as they possibly could.
Another minute passed, their fingers still tucked inside each other, and then Tina pressed her lips to the column of Bette's neck, to her flushed cheek, as they both worked to steady their breathing.
Bette wrapped her arms around Tina's back, and Tina copied the motion, pulling the brunette into a tight embrace.
Lost in the simple miracle of being able to hold Tina again—like this—Bette shut her eyes, a slow smile blooming on her face.
Tina pressed her lips to a bronze shoulder, palms exploring a muscular back. "I missed that."
Bette inhaled the sweet scent of blonde hair. "I know."
Bodies sated and verging on sleep, Bette and Tina lay facing each other, their hands caressing in the little empty space between them.
Bette's adoring eyes were fixed on Tina's face. She lifted her hand, thumb tracing a soft cheek. "You're glowing."
Tina chuckled. "After that, I'm sure I am."
Bette felt her stomach flutter, thrilled by the reminder that Tina loved and desired her just as much as she loved and desired Tina.
Tina drew patterns against Bette's bare skin with her fingertips, and they were quiet for a few minutes, comfortable just to lie side by side in each other's company.
Then, Tina broke the silence. "Do you remember that book we read with Angie when she was in middle school? The one with that myth about soulmates—the one that suggested that humans once had two sets of arms and legs and faces?"
Bette nodded in recognition. "From Plato's Symposium, right?"
"Yeah," Tina recalled. "How, once upon a time, people were attached to their 'other half.'"
"And then Zeus thought they were getting too powerful and thunderbolted them apart, splitting everyone in two," Bette summarized.
"Right. And the myth claims that, now, that's why we spend our lives looking for our soulmate, our other half."
Carding her fingers through blonde hair, Bette waited attentively, fascinated—as always—by Tina's thoughts.
Tina bit her bottom lip, looking thoughtful. "I used to say that you were my soulmate, but I don't think of you that way, anymore."
And, fighting off her inclination to react—to pull back, to feel hurt—Bette's eyes remained fixed to Tina's face, working to give her the chance to complete her train of thought.
Tina watched as a stress-line formed between Bette's brows and, without thinking, she reached out, smoothing it out with her index finger. "I mean, you're the love of my life, but I don't think I'm . . . fated to be with you."
Bette nodded, easily understanding. Because Tina was right: they were together now not because it was inevitable, but because they had decided—with full agency—to be together, to work for each other, to prioritize their relationship.
Suddenly shy, Tina shrugged as her lips curled up, her voice drenched in affection. "I love you on purpose. You know?"
Overwhelmed with love, Bette felt a warmth spread through her body—felt her eyes water and her smile widen. "I love you on purpose, too."