Bette finally — finally – opened the door to the guest room, Angelica in her arms, and glanced around.

An hour or so earlier she’d heard Tina say goodbye through the locked door of the guest room, and as much as she knew she should have opened the door and let Tina say goodbye to her baby, she had not been ready to face Tina again so soon.

Tomorrow, of course, would be a whole different ballgame.

Bette carried Angelica to the kitchen. "You love your formula, don’t you, little girl?"

Bette noticed immediately the items Tina had taken with her. Items invisible to anyone else but herself: the teddy bear cookie jar which Tina had bought as a joke, to spite Bette, to throw off the Good Housekeeping-esque appearance of the kitchen. The barbecue sauce Tina loved and Bette considered blasphemy to food.

As Bette and Angelica emerged from the kitchen, bottle in hand, Bette had to take a moment to regard the living room. The artwork was still there, and again few people would recognize the absence of more important things. Bette glanced at the bookshelf, at the most telling aspect that Tina had gone: the stack of books there seemed uniform, her collection of Tashen books no longer disrupted by a first edition Breakfast at Tiffany‘s, a gift she’d given Tina early on in their relationship.

Bette strode closer to the shelf, ignoring Angelica’s struggle to grab onto her milk bottle.

Tina’s book had housed there for no other reason that to pinpoint that she, like the book, had come into the orderliness of Bette Porter and her books and made space for herself.

Bette sat on the couch in front of the shelf, and finally allowed Angelica her bottle.

At first Angelica, as she always did when met with the flavor of her milk formula, made a face, then decided it was better than nothing, and resumed sucking.

"She’s really gone," Bette whispered, staring at the place where Breakfast at Tiffany’s is supposed to be.

Angelica glanced up at her, all the while sucking on her milk bottle.

Oh, crap.

Bette and Tina stared at each other, frozen in place, Tina at the door to the backyard and Bette standing near the front door.

It had been almost three whole weeks since Tina’s phone call, and neither woman had taken any steps to remedy their situation. Bette had put her personal life on hold while she looked for, found, and settled into a job, and Tina had taken Bette’s silence as defiance. Tina hadn’t called again, because, really, what else was left to say?

"I, uh, thought you weren’t going to be home yet," Tina said quickly, already searching for a way out.

"What are you doing here?" Bette asked, not moving from where she stood.

"Getting my things," Tina said slowly.

"Found a new place to stay already?" Bette asked spitefully.

"Isn’t that what you wanted?" Tina asked, irritated, although if you were to ask her, she wouldn’t be able to answer what she was irritated at.

"I told you, that isn’t what I want," Bette answered, annoyed at the audacity of Tina to be caught trespassing and be the one pissed off.

"Whatever," Tina sighed, quickly deflating, determined not to make this into a fight.

"Where’s Angelica?" Bette questioned.

"In her crib," Tina replied, and suddenly changed tactics. "Actually, I was kind of hoping to run into you."

Danger, Bette Porter, danger. Bette ignored the alarms in her head. "Why?"

"Could you look after Angelica tonight? I’ll just pick her up tomorrow?"

"Big date?" Bette slipped the question before she could stop herself.

Tina actually laughed. "Right. No, I’m fixing the house. I don’t want her around that much dust."

"House?" Bette repeated. When she had Tina move out, she didn’t think it would be that permanent. Apartment, sure. Motel, definitely. But a house? That implied permanence. That implied mortgages, long term leases. Did Tina say she had to clean up? As in, nobody lived there lately? "Is it too much work?"

Tina shrugged. "Helena had people do some basic cleaning. Got some furniture, moved that in the other day, and right now it’s just The Fall of Saigon over there, but what the hell, right?"

Bette strode into the house, slamming the front door behind her, and taking a brief moment to regard her surroundings.

The house was dark, a clear indication and reminder that she lived alone. She allowed herself that small pang of sadness, remembering times when she and Tina would come home from work, just grateful the day was over and they had the rest of the night to spend time with each other. She remembered coming home to Tina. To Angelica.

Bette shook her head, berating herself for thinking back to memories that Tina clearly did not remember as fondly.

She noticed the flashing red light of the answering machine, and pressed the button, then made her way to the kitchen to get herself a nice, cold drink.

"Hello, Bette? It’s me. Tina."

Bette paused, her hand on the refrigerator door handle.

"If you need to reach me just try my cellphone."

Bette exhaled a breath she had not realized she’d been holding. Bossy Tina, she could handle. Easier to ignore, even hate. Annoying-bossy-and-inexplicably-vicious Tina was safe to loathe in private.

"And if anyone looks for me, just give them my number."

I’m your fucking secretary now, T? Bette thought sarcastically, opening the bottle of beer, and taking a long, earnest drink. God she needed a drink.

Or six.

Apparently Tina wasn’t done.

"I don’t want this to be a problem, so just draw up the papers, whatever. I’ll sign them."

Bette suspiciously glanced at the machine. Not like Tina to be so compliant. At least, not the recent version of Tina.

"Just please let me have our daughter."

Our daughter?

"I’m really sorry about how we got here, but please let me have her."

Bette scoffed. As if she could ever stand a chance in court against the biological mother.

But then, why was Tina asking?

All kinds of alarms were going off in Bette’s head.

Tina was making sense. Was it possible?

"But I don’t want you out of her life either, so…" Tina paused here. "Just give me how you want to work this out, and… we can talk about it."

"As far as bad decisions go, baby? I’d give that a ten." Tina told Angelica lightly. She smiled weakly at Angelica. "Okay, fine. A hundred. On a scale of one to ten."

Angelica grabbed onto her mother’s hands, and playfully clapped them together.

"Oh, applauding me. Funny." Tina said wryly, grinning at her child. "You know what? Let’s stick to my original plan. You and me. What do you say?"

Angelica uttered gibberish, which Tina took as protest. "I know, I want your Momma B in, too, but I think I royally screwed that one up, so…"

Angelica whimpered, and looked at her mother.

"No. No. None of the wide-eyed look." Tina shook her head. "That’s not fair."

Angelica’s bottom lip trembled in a pout.

"That’s cheating." Tina reprimanded lightly, knowing she could never resist either the Porter wide-eyed poor-me routine, or the pouting. And, she had to face it: Angelica was Bette’s daughter. Maybe not biologically, but Bette had been her every other thought throughout her pregnancy with Angelica.

Tina lifted Angelica and smiled fondly at the little girl. "Can I just say how thankful I am for you? And that I am so glad you are this really patient little girl. You don’t cry, you don’t whine, and you have made my life as your mom infinitely easier. So thank you, honey, and I’m giving you permission to be as troublesome as you want when you’re older. But not too much, okay, because then I’ll just be grumpy with you."

Angelica giggled at her mother, which earned her a genuine broad smile from her mom.

"God, you are exactly like your mother." Tina told her. "You know, there was a time she’d just look at me and I’d smile? For no apparent reason."

So when did that change? Tina wondered silently, her gaze still fixed on Angelica. She lowered Angelica back to her lap, and gazed in wonderment at the little girl.

She sighed, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

She was lonely. She didn’t want to be alone, but knew that was a horrible reason to be with someone. So she was going to do this properly. If she really, truly wanted to be with Bette, she had to do this properly.

(Tina’s POV)

I sit at the edge of the couch, the answering machine in front of me, playing the same message over and over until I’m pretty sure my brain is going to explode.

Every fiber of my being is screaming "fuck you, Bette" and yet I keep wishing I’d at least gotten some kind of passing mention in her message to Angelica.

I glance back at the direction of our bedroom — no, that’s Bette’s bedroom. The door is closed. I have no business there. I’d done the unspeakable against that door.

Fucking Henry in the room I shared with Bette will never be one of my best decisions, probably alongside the absence of latex. Thank God for birth control pills, and I’ll probably need to take some morning after pills later.

Wow. Taking birth control medication while in a lesbian relationship. I am so fucking brilliant.

It’s not feelings for men. I get that now. I don’t love them, I don’t see myself actually being in love with them. It’s the sex. The raw, animalistic part that needs to get laid. None of the flowers and candles, the deep connections. Fuck that. I had that and it spectacularly bit me in the ass.

Men are straightforward, simple. They come as a package deal with lowered expectations. Women don’t expect them to be romantic, they don’t expect a lot of talking.

Because, really: if Bette desired me so much, why hasn’t she made a single move to get me alone and have her way with me? The Bette I know would’ve been relentless, stopping at nothing until she had me.

Ask Eric.

I roll my eyes, which is really becoming an annoying habit of mine. But what exactly am I supposed to say?

Fucking Eric. It’s his fault. Introducing me to a woman with whom I have more chemistry than a periodic table.

I remember what I told Alice almost two years ago.

Holy fucking hell. Has it really been that long since the first child I carried? Nine months, plus Angelica’s age… wow.

It’s been that long since Bette and I were actually happy.