After their sixth couple's therapy appointment, Bette and Tina address their fears for the future.

"This week," Dr. Coleman prompted during their next session, "I want you to address your fears."

"After our first session," the therapist continued, "you talked about your regrets about the past—which ultimately allowed you to put them behind you. Now, it's time to address something else difficult: your fears going forward."

Bette and Tina nodded.

"For most people, there will always be some anxiety about the future because it can't be promised, and it changes. The uncertainty can be terrifying—especially when it's about a shared future, where we can't control our partner's desires and choices."

Tina bit her lip. Bette made a face. That was true. And, as Dr. Coleman had said, it was terrifying.

"Do you have any other goals for the week?" the therapist asked.

"Well, we're going to Montreal for a few days," Tina informed her. "I have some time off from work, and we thought it would be fun to explore somewhere new and get away."

"And, if we're going to talk about everything that scares us, we might as well be in a cool city, right?" Bette joked.

Tina reached for her hand. "That will only be a tiny portion of the trip," she promised. "The rest of the time, we'll just have fun."

The next morning, on the five-hour drive to Montreal, Tina's attention was on the Map app on her phone while Bette drove. "The hotel isn't far from Clock Tower Beach," she noted. "Or Old Montreal. It looks beautiful."

Bette dropped her hand to Tina's knee. "Hey, as long as we make time to go to some galleries and the city's contemporary art museum, I'll be happy."

"We can do that this afternoon, if you want," Tina offered.

"Oh, and maybe the Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours Chapel," Bette added. "I think that's in Montreal, too."

Tina smiled at Bette's accent. "I'm so excited to hear you speak in French all weekend."

Bette made a face. "Don't get too excited. My French is rusty."

Tina shrugged, undeterred. "Still pretty hot."

Bette raised an eyebrow. "What are some other things that you find hot?"

Her eyes on Bette, languidly taking her in, Tina revealed, "Everything, really. Like . . ." She paused. "It feels like the beginning. You know?"

Bette blinked at her, waiting for more.

"You know when you first start seeing someone—someone you really like—and you're just amazed and fascinated by everything about them?"

Bette's lip quirked up. "Of course."

"And, I mean, it's always like that with you," Tina added. "But it's more intense when it's new. And, right now, it feels new. I feel like we're learning each other all over again."

"We are," Bette agreed.

"And—maybe because we've known each other so long—every new thing I learn thrills me."

They were quiet for a moment, focused on the drive, and then—at a stoplight—Tina turned back to Bette expectantly. "Are you going to tell me what you find hot about me?"

"So many things." Then, Bette pursed her lips, biting back a mischievous smile. "But the first one I thought of isn't entirely appropriate."

Tina laughed. "Tell me."

Bette leaned in, hovering close to her ear to whisper the words.

When they got into their room at Le Mount Stephen that afternoon, Bette's eyes widened. As beautiful and historic as the exterior and common areas looked—all wood and stained glass with Classical art adorning the walls—the room itself was sleek and modern. Setting her suitcase down in the closet, she strode toward the large windows, looking out at the city spreading out around them. "Whoa."

Tina rested her palm on the small of Bette's back as she came to stand beside her. "You like it?"

Bette nodded in affirmation, then gestured toward their balcony. "We should get take-out tonight and eat out there."

Rather than getting back into the car, they opted to walk the mile to Musée d'art contemporain, clasped hands swinging between them.

"I never asked," Bette began, "have you been to Quebec before?"

Tina shook her head. "I always wanted to take a trip here with Angie during one of her breaks, but it never happened."

"And you never visited with Carrie?"

Tina made a face. "Carrie and I didn't do much, really. You know how crazy my schedule can be. Besides going to California for her trials or to see you and Angie, we were mostly just . . . working."

Bette nodded, listening attentively.

"You grew up less than—what?—six hours from here," Tina realized. "Have you ever been?"

"I took a road trip here once during college," Bette recalled. "With Kelly Wentworth, actually."

Tina rolled her eyes, laughing a little. "My favorite."

"I know," Bette laughed with her. "We went to the Museum of Fine Arts to see their Roman antiquities. I wrote a paper about them for extra credit."

Tina smirked. "Of course you did."

Following their trip to the museum, Bette and Tina explored a handful of galleries within walking distance and then picked up some takeout from a family-owned restaurant that was supposedly beloved by locals.

They opted to try the Metro instead of lugging their food the four miles back to their hotel. Finding two seats together, Tina leaned on her head on Bette's shoulder.

Bette wrapped her arm around Tina's back to pull her closer. She leaned over and kissed her forehead, watching as pink lips curled up in response.

Across the train, a toddler and his father smiled at them, and then the little boy raised his hand in an enthusiastic wave.

Bette and Tina smiled and waved back.

After their dinner on the balcony that night, they settled side-by-side on the leather couch in their room.

"I'm so full," Bette groaned.

Tina chuckled. "Me, too."

Bette brushed her palm over Tina's shoulder, the touch easy and familiar. She exhaled a long sigh.

Tina looked up at her. "You okay?"

Bette nodded. "Just happy."

Tina leaned in to press her lips to Bette's. Pulling back, she asked, "What do you want to do now? Do you want to watch a movie or something?"

Bette yawned. "Sure." She reached for the remote and handed it to Tina and then resituated herself, lying on her side and resting her head on Tina's lap. "You pick."

Tina smiled, her fingers immediately brushing back brown curls. "We can sleep, if you're tired."

Bette shook her head, hair rustling against Tina's black pants. Her eyes remained fixed to the television screen as a picture materialized. "I'm wide awake."

Running her fingers through brown hair, Tina scrolled through the listings, searching for something in English. She made a face. "The only thing I can find is Titanic."

Bette chuckled. "I guess that's fine, then."

Turning up the volume, Tina leaned forward to make sure Bette's eyes were still open. "Are you going to fall asleep?"

"No," Bette insisted stubbornly.

Tina ducked her head to kiss Bette's temple. "Okay." Watching the familiar film, her nimble fingers continued stroking through dark hair, weaving it into a loose braid, then rubbing the nape of a tan neck, scratching a strong scapula.

"Mmm," Bette moaned contently, eyes becoming hooded at the feeling. "You're so good."

Tina laughed softly, endeared. "You're going to fall asleep."

Well on her way to sleep already, Bette just hummed in response.

One hand still in her curls, Tina buried her other hand under the brunette's shirt. She drew a line down her spine with her index finger, and Bette shivered inadvertently at the sensation.

Her eyes still on the movie—watching Jack and his friend interact as they boarded the ship—Tina drew another line down Bette's back, then one perpendicular to it. She drew a circle, then a V, an E . . .

Bette's lips curled up, and she reached back for Tina's hand, bringing it down to her face and pressing a reverent kiss into her palm. "I love you, too."

After returning from lunch the following day, Bette noted the two bathrobes hanging in their closet and remembered that there was a full spa downstairs. "Hey, do you want to go check out the steam room with me?"

Across the room, Tina smiled at her. "I'm in."

Downstairs, they sat across from each other on the tiled benches, barely able to see one another amid all the steam.

Bette exhaled a long breath. "Wow. This is nice."

Tina shut her eyes, feeling her pores open, her hair get wetter and wetter, sticking to the back of her neck. She tried to wipe the steam from her face without success. Then, she focused her attention on Bette: sitting perfectly still, eyes shut, her cheeks flushed from the heat. A drop of water pearled a tan shoulder, and she felt the sudden urge to press her lips to Bette's skin, to taste her on her tongue.

Standing up, Tina strode over, and Bette blinked her eyes open, smiling as the blonde came to sit beside her. "Hi."

Tina leaned in to kiss a warm cheek. "Hi." And, as another droplet began descending down Bette's upper arm, she ducked her head, mouthing its wetness, then running her tongue over dewy skin.

Bette inhaled a sharp breath.

Tina moved higher, nipping a strong shoulder, sucking on the side of Bette's neck. Lifting her hand to smooth over a toned back, she never broke contact with skin, kissing a line over a sharp jaw.

Bette's breath shuddered out, her hand falling to a freckled thigh. "Tina . . ."

"Hmm?" Tina prompted, lips never stilling. She pushed away damp curls, giving herself better access to Bette's neck.

"Someone could walk in," Bette reminded her, but the warning was half-hearted.

"Isn't that half the fun?" Tina asked, her hand making its way up a muscular thigh.

Then, suddenly, the shock of cold air as another guest opened the steam room's glass door. Instantly, Bette sat up straight, and Tina pulled away to create more space between their bodies.

An older woman set down her towel and then sat on the bench across from them. "Oh, it's so nice in here. Do you mind if I join you?"

Tina willed her heart to slow down, and Bette shut her eyes, working to dampen her want—at least until they got back upstairs. "Sure."

Half an hour later, in the privacy of their hotel room, Bette watched Tina hang her swimsuit over the towel rack. She watched her push her hair out of her face, cheeks still pink from the heat. Feeling a little shy, she smiled softly. "Do you want to take a shower with me?"

At that, Tina turned to face her, lip instantly quirking up. "Always."

"Good." Bette strode forward, gently cradling the blonde's cheek and leaning in.

Instantly, Tina's hand lifted to the back of Bette's head, fingers brushing over wet curls. Pulling back for breath a minute later, she brushed her thumb over a sharp jaw. Then, she turned toward the bathroom's oversized shower and turned on the faucet.

Behind her, Bette slipped off her robe, hanging it up on one of the hooks before reaching for the terrycloth belt of Tina's and pulling it loose.

Tina let the fabric fall from her shoulders and took a step onto the shower tile, warm droplets raining over her waist. She grabbed Bette's hand, encouraging her to take a step inside. "Come here."

Stepping in, Bette shut the door behind her, her hands instantly landing on Tina's hips.

As Tina wrapped her arms around Bette's back, palms splaying over smooth skin, they simultaneously leaned in, lips pressing while a steady stream of hot water washed over their bodies.

Dark eyes fell shut as Bette got lost in the sensation of pink lips moving against hers, feeling her nipples harden as they rubbed against Tina's. Her grip tightened, and she grinned when, in response, Tina hummed contently and mirrored the action.

After another minute, Bette wetted a washcloth before rubbing a bar of soap over it until the fabric bubbled. Then, dropping it to Tina's shoulder, she brushed over soft skin, her hand moving with intention: down her arm and forearm, over the pinkened skin of her chest, the curve of her stomach. She used the washcloth to caress a freckled back. Meeting hazel eyes, she smiled, and—when she spoke—her voice came out reverential. "You're so beautiful." She ducked her head, pressing her lips to Tina's neck.

Tilting back her head, Tina pulled Bette's body flush against hers, relishing the full-body contact.

Bette kissed the curve of Tina's jaw, mouth making its way toward her ear. "I love you."

"I love you," Tina murmured, pulling Bette's face back to hers. Smiling against Bette's lips, she tucked a hand between their bodies, middle finger slowly encircling the brunette's clit.

"Oh . . ." Bette faltered, breath quickening. She lowered her own hand between Tina's thighs, groaning when her fingers located a swollen bundle of nerves.

"Yes," Tina breathed, suctioning Bette's bottom lip.

Bette eagerly kissed back, their movements increasingly needy, desperate to devour each other. Using her thumb to keep steady pressure against Tina's clit, she pushed a single finger inside her, groaning at how good she felt.

Tina moaned, her breath shuddering out against Bette's cheek. She tongued the side of her neck. "Am I where you want me?"

Reaching down, Bette repositioned Tina's hand—moving it just a little bit to the left.

Her eyes on Bette's face, Tina began circling her finger again and watched as brown eyes fell shut, the long finger inside her losing its rhythm. "Does that feel okay?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"It feels good," Bette assured her as she finally refocused on Tina's center, thumbing her clit, finger curling inside her. She added a second finger on her next thrust, lost in the feeling, in the whimper that escaped Tina's lips. Her head fell forward against Tina's shoulder as she reveled in the sensation of the woman she loved all around her, that finger moving steadily over her clit.

Tina latched her lips to the column of a long neck. "You feel so good," she murmured breathlessly before lifting her head, lips searching for Bette's again. Her hips began moving, working to set Bette's pace, her body instinctually knowing what she needed.

Bette slipped one of her thighs between Tina's legs, using its leverage to push her fingers deeper inside her.

Tina groaned at their new positioning, her mouth falling open. "More."

Immediately complying, Bette pushed a third finger into her. "I love how soft you feel," she panted, heavy breaths falling against Tina's cheek.

Tina bit her bottom lip, trying—and failing—to stifle a moan. She pulled back—just enough to get a look at Bette's screwed-shut eyes, her parted lips, the expression of pleasure on her face. Even with water falling all around them, she could feel the distinct wetness of Bette's center against her hand. She bit a bronze shoulder—a little harder than she'd intended. "Faster."

"Fuck," Bette swore, fingers curling, her thumb's consistent pressure unrelenting against Tina's clit. Her teeth scraped over the shell of an ear, hips moving against those capable fingers.

Her grip hard against the nape of a neck, Tina urged Bette's face toward hers, pulling her in for a wet kiss.

Bette whimpered against her mouth. Her arm tightened around Tina's back, wanting to feel even more of her body. She pulled back a minute later, needing to catch her breath. "I—god."

Her hips' movement out of her control, Tina's breaths became loud and labored. "Bette . . ." she warned.

"I'm almost there," Bette offered, her whole body thrumming with need. Curling her fingers into another "C" inside her, she watched Tina's face with wonder, watched the way—a moment later—her face went slack with pleasure, catapulted into a climax, a loud moan coming from the depth of her throat.

And, as usual, the sight of that—coupled by the sound, the new wetness dripping down her fingers, Tina's movements still steady against her clit—were enough to push Bette over the edge, overcome by the force of her orgasm. "Oh, fuck!" she yelled, the sound muffled as pink lips pressed to hers again.

For a long minute, they shook against each other, trying to maintain their rhythm as they rode our their orgasms, breaths coming out as gasps.

Then, still in each other's arms, Tina inhaled deep, desperate for air.

Bette pressed her lips to a smooth cheek, a smooth temple, a smooth forehead, waiting for her heart to slow.

Tina tried to regulate her breathing, lips moving over bronze skin. Then, she pulled back, her gaze on full lips. Leaning in, their lips immediately pressed, their movements soft.

Bette brought her hand up to the back of an ivory neck, demanding continued contact, while Tina's hands tightened on her hips, pulling the taller woman closer.

Bette hummed softly into Tina's mouth. "This is my happy place."

Tina smiled into the kiss. "Mine, too."

Down in the spa that evening, they had the hot tub to themselves.

Bette stepped into the hot water while Tina slid into the seat across from her, resting her head on the edge and shutting her eyes. "This is so nice."

Bette nodded in agreement as she pulled her curls back into a loose bun. Her eyes were on Tina, watching as freckled hands absentmindedly sculled the water, expression totally relaxed and at ease. "You know what this makes me think of?" she realized.

"Hmm?" Tina lifted her head, focusing her attention on Bette.

"That time Alice was writing a piece about a lesbian hiking club in Tahoe and invited us all to stay at a cabin there for a week."

Tina thought back to that week—to that time—when her and Bette's relationship had still been so new. She thought back to the way Alice had caught them naked in the hot tub one night and then raised an eyebrow. "Are you hinting at something?"

Bette chuckled. "No. Just remembering."

"I loved that trip," Tina recalled wistfully. "And sitting in that hot tub with you every night. I had never seen so many shooting stars in my life."

"I know," Bette agreed. "I kept thinking about how poetic it was. I was so in love with you. The whole world already felt brighter than I was used to. And then, suddenly, the sky was literally sparkling all around us."

Tina smiled. "I think that might have been the first trip we ever took together."

Bette bit back a devious smile. "It was definitely the first time Alice walked in on us and ran away screaming."

"If only it were the last." Tina laughed. "She has such a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I bet we'll traumatize her again when we're all old in a nursing home."

Bette laughed with her. "She'll go running out of the room in her hair curlers and adult diaper."

Tina sparkled at her. "I can picture it already."

They spent the following afternoon at Clock Tower Beach, sitting together under an umbrella and people-watching the families, friends, and couples around them.

"I can't believe it's still so warm here," Tina offered. "Isn't it usually cool by October? I feel like I'm getting a sunburn."

Bette looked up from her book and reached for the sunscreen sitting between them. "Here," she offered, "let me get your back again."

Tina lifted her hair into a messy bun as she turned to face away from Bette, presenting her with her back.

Warming the cream between the palms of her hands, Bette rubbed it on Tina's back, over the hard muscle at her trapezius.

Tina closed her eyes, lost in the sensation of those strong hands gently massaging over her muscles and pressure points.

Bette took her time, diligently covering bare shoulders and then a lower back.

"Let me get you, too," Tina offered once Bette was done. That bronze skin had gotten hot under the sunlight and, as she rubbed the sunscreen in, she was tempted to press her lips to the back of Bette's neck.

Instead, she turned back to her book, and they sat quietly for a few minutes, the sounds of quiet chatter and children's laughter around them.

After finishing another chapter, Bette's eyes wandered over to Tina—her freckled thighs, the soft swell of her belly, the silky skin at her chest, the laugh lines at the corner of her eyes . . .

Feeling Bette's gaze on her, Tina looked up, brows furrowing a little in curiosity. "What are you looking at?"

Twinkling back at her, Bette shrugged. "Enjoying the view."

Tina smiled. Then, her own eyes ran down Bette's body—over that skin-tight swimsuit, those endlessly long legs. "Me, too."

Bette grinned. Then: "Oh! Let's take a photo to send to Angie." As she reached for her phone, Tina scooted in closer, her arm instinctually slinging around her back, head resting on her shoulder.

Resting her cheek against blonde hair, Bette snapped a quick selfie and texted it to Angie. Missing you!

"I'm glad we'll talk on the phone with her tomorrow," Tina mused. "I miss hearing her voice."

Bette nodded. "I'm excited to hear more about her first literature class. It's nice that she's getting to read some relatively contemporary writers her first semester."

"It is," Tina agreed. "Back when I was in college, the English curriculum was chronological, so my friends' first class was all about Chaucer and Langland." She made a face. "They didn't love it."

Bette chuckled. "Fair."

Tina reached out to brush back a wayward curl. "It makes sense that she feels drawn to poetry, though. I mean, you were reading Langston Hughes to her in utero."

"Oh, yeah," Bette recalled. "My dad's favorite."

They sat in silence with Bette's attention back on her book and Tina's pen hovering over a page in her journal, thinking about the assignment their therapist had given them.

After another half hour, their attention on their respective books, Tina yawned.

Bette looked up at her, eyebrow lifting in jest. "Nap time?"

Tina nodded. "We're on vacation. I'm allowing myself the decadence." She lay down, tucking her sundress under her head to use as a pillow. She turned her head back toward Bette, offering her sweetest smile. Expectantly, she held out her hand.

Bette took the proffered hand in hers and scooted into the space behind her, her body curling around Tina's.

Insisting on increased closeness, Tina scooched back into Bette's pelvis, until she felt those breasts pressed to her back.

Pressing her lips to a warm shoulder—a little pinker than it had been the day before—Bette shut her eyes.

An hour later, they began making their way down the shoreline, exploring the old port. Bette wrapped her arm around Tina's back, and Tina instantly mirrored the movement, Bette's hip resting against hers.

She looked over at the brunette and dimpled. "Tell me a secret."

Bette laughed a little—amused by this new little game they'd been playing. "Hmm . . . Okay."

As Bette tried to think of something to share, Tina watched her face, waiting patiently.

Then, Bette exhaled a quiet breath. "You know, I, um." She paused for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "I keep finding myself planning. And I know we've only been together for, like, seven weeks, but . . ."

Tina stopped walking, reclaiming her arm and pulling back so that she could get a better look at her.

Bette shrugged, a little self-conscious. "I keep thinking about planning a trip to Florence with you, or to go see that historic theater a few miles from your place, or—I don't know—where I want to take you for Valentine's Day."

At that, Tina smiled. And, then, when Bette didn't continue talking—just looking at her, those brown eyes wide and warm with just a hint of caution—Tina reached for a strong hand, squeezing it in hers. "Bette, I want you to plan," she vowed, her voice adoring. "I'm planning, too."

Bette felt the corners of her lips curl up. She braided her fingers with Tina's, thumbing her skin. "What are you planning?"

Tina lifted her shoulders. "All sorts of things. Bringing you to the wrap party. How we'll celebrate your birthday in January. Planting lavender in the garden because you like it."

Bette's smile expanded, chest tidepooling with warmth. As they resumed walking, she said, "Now, you tell me a secret."

Tina's lips scrunched together as she tried to think of something. After a minute: "Do you remember that morning before the election when I showed up at your doorstep?"

"Of course I do. You were standing there all beautiful and backlit like an angel coming to rescue me."

Tina chuckled, her cheeks flushing. "Right."

Patiently, Bette waited for more.

"I was out of the house, on my way to the airport before Angie even told me what was going on." She was quiet for a moment, eyes caressing Bette's face. "I know things were complicated between us then, and I was engaged, and we only ever talked about Angie, but . . . you should know that all it took was her saying 'Mom needs you' for me to come running."

"I really had no idea," Bette began, head shaking with awe, "how much you cared."

"It was a problem," Tina admitted. "For Carrie, anyway. She knew that Angie would always be my first priority, obviously, and that was fine, but . . ." She made a face. "You were my second—instead of her. And she knew it."

Bette worked to bite back her smile, worked to be empathetic. "I should probably feel bad about that, but I really, really don't."

Tina chuckled. "She deserved better. Maybe now, she'll find someone, too." They walked a few easy paces forward, and then she wondered, "Do you ever regret it—the way everything happened with Pippa?"

"You mean how it ended?"

Tina nodded.

Immediately, Bette shook her head. "With Pippa, it wasn't like it was with Jodi. I didn't lie to her or break any commitment. I didn't do something that I knew would hurt her. I was just trying as hard as I could to let you go."

Tina affectionately bumped Bette's shoulder with hers. "I'm glad you didn't."

"I am, too."

At dinner that night, sitting in a private little alcove and waiting for their food to arrive, Bette pursed her lips. "Do you want to talk about our fears?"

Tina frowned. "Do you?"

"No," Bette chuckled. "Maybe."

"Do you want to go first?" Tina extended her arm to rest it on the table, offering her hand out to Bette.

Immediately, Bette accepted the gesture, her palm resting in Tina's. "Honestly," she began, "I just have one fear now."

Tina waited, her eyes on Bette's.

Bette sighed. "You know what it is already. I'm scared that you'll leave again. Or," she looked down, "really, I'm scared that I'll drive you away."

Tina exhaled a long breath.

"And it's not that I don't trust you," Bette continued. "I know you love me, and I know that you're as committed to making this work as I am. It's like you said our first week of therapy: 'I trust you with my heart.' It's just that there's so much that's out of our control."

"I get that," Tina empathized. "We know from experience that even marriage isn't an assured outcome—it's just blind hope and a vow to prioritize to each other. But things happen, and people change."

Bette nodded. "Yeah. And Dr. Coleman says that love is a release of control, not an attempt to maintain it—and she's right. But . . . you know me."

Tina smiled. "I do."

Bette's lip quirked up. "And you know that I'm a control freak. So I try not to think about my lack of control here but," she sighed, "sometimes I do, and it's debilitating." Hesitantly, she met hazel eyes.

"I get anxiety about it, too." Tina squeezed her hand. "I think that comes with the territory—loving each other as much as we do. All that love is equally matched by the total paranoia of losing it."

"Right," Bette exhaled.

"But you're not going to lose me," Tina pledged.

Bette shook her head. "You can't promise that."

"Based on our history, I kind of think I can," Tina maintained, a hint of humor in her voice. "Last year, when I said 'I've loved you my whole life,' I meant it. In so many ways, my life began when I met you because you opened up the world for me." Her gaze was on Bette's, eyes full of affection. "You changed everything the moment you kissed me, and I've wanted you ever since."

"Me, too." Bette leaned down, pressing her lips to the back of Tina's hand. "Every second."

"And we're not going to stop," Tina stated matter-of-factly. "The difference now is just that we're better at communicating than we were before—and we keep working to get better at it every day."

They were quiet for a minute, content just to look at each other. Then, Bette prompted, "Tell me what else you're scared of."

Tina sighed. "It's always the same thing for me. I've lost myself inside you before. I don't want to do that again."

"I don't want you to, either. It's the last thing I want."

"But that's more a personal fear, and a personal issue," Tina noted. She thought back to her visit to Bette two years before, to that conversation in her kitchen. You just took up so much space. "It wasn't fair for me to blame you before."

"You felt smothered, and I didn't notice," Bette countered.

"True," Tina ceded. "But I didn't tell you, and I didn't do anything about it. I just . . . left."

"Is there something I can do going forward," Bette asked, "to keep you from feeling that way again?"

"I think you're doing it already," Tina shrugged. "You did it when you decided to come to Toronto and acknowledged that I have a whole big life, and you're just part of it." She smiled a little, conceding, "A really, really important part, obviously, but . . . not the only part."

Bette smiled back. "I'm learning. More slowly than I'd like," she added with a little chagrin. "But I'm learning to love you in the way you deserve to feel loved. And I'm going to keep learning—for as long as you'll let me."

"It'll be for the next twenty-five years, at least. I can tell you that right now."

Bette shone back at her. "Good."

After dinner, on the rooftop bar, Bette and Tina stood side by side on the edge, looking out at the city.

And then Bette turned her head, watching Tina as she took it all in, her features illuminated by the buildings' lights, her waves rustling with the breeze. "You're so pretty."

Tina felt her face get warm, her stomach erupting with butterflies. She exhaled a long breath, overcome with love. "Somehow . . . I forgot about this."

Bette's brows knit together. "Forgot about what?"

"Your intensity," Tina explained. "And my intensity with you. The way you've always looked at me like you really see me."

"I do see you," Bette breathed. And she always had—had always known Tina, heart and soul.

Tina's lips curled up. "I know." Leaning back against the handrail, she lifted her palm to the small of Bette's back, brushing over her satiny blazer.

Beside her, Bette followed her eyes over to the live jazz band, to the handful of couples swaying across from them.

Tina sighed. "I wish Kit was here."

"She would've loved this," Bette agreed. Then, she turned her attention to Tina's profile, taking it in. "And she would've loved seeing us back together."

Tina offered a smile in return, and then her voice came out quiet. "Do you want to dance?"

Bette nodded, eyes full of tenderness.

Reaching for her hand, Tina led them over toward the band and the other couples. Standing a few inches away, they easily found their way into each other's arms: Bette's palm on Tina's waist, Tina's hand on Bette's shoulder, the space between their bodies lessening with every sway.

Bette pressed a kiss to Tina's cheek.

Tina melted into the contact, her eyes falling shut. Instinctively, she pulled Bette closer, palm moving over her lower back.

Her cheek resting against Tina's, Bette exhaled a contented sigh, lost in the feel of that soft body against hers . . .

Tina inhaled the scent of dark curls. She felt a steady heartbeat, and she wasn't sure if it was hers or Bette's. Maybe both. Briefly kissing the side of a bronze neck, she lowered her hand to a toned ass, squeezing it playfully.

Bette chuckled, her breath warm against Tina's skin.

Swaying together, Bette's body pressed to hers, Tina felt a sudden sense of gratitude wash over her. Once upon a time, she'd been so sure that she'd lost this forever. And, now—finally—they were back and better than ever.

"Thanks for planning this trip," Bette intoned. "I've loved it."

Her cheek still resting against Bette's, Tina smiled.

Later that night, tucking themselves under the sheets, Tina clicked off the lamp on her side of the bed before turning over and wrapping her body around Bette's from behind. Pressing her lips to a bare shoulder, she inhaled a deep breath. That evening, she had still felt some lingering anxiety regarding their conversation about their fears but, like always, Bette's warm and familiar scent served as a balm, her nervous system settling.

Bette lifted her palm to Tina's arm, fingertips drawing patterns on her skin.

Resting her chin against Bette's scapula, Tina shut her eyes. "You're my home, too, you know."

Bette felt flowers bloom in her abdomen. She felt her heart skip a beat. She turned in Tina's arms, hand resting on the curve of her waist. "I am?"

Tina laughed a little as though . . . well, duh. Brushing a curl out of Bette's face, she nodded gently, her voice soft. "Yeah. You are."