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The sound of bare feet on the wooden floor signaled Tina that her wife was approaching from behind. The blonde didn’t pause her work in the kitchen, where she was kneading dough for pizza.
She had started this tradition back when she lived far from Angie, when, in her heart, making homemade pizza every time Angie arrived in Toronto from LA made her daughter feel less homesick. Each time, she hoped that these small gestures could somehow make up for the price Angie had paid after their divorce. And even though they were now married again, happy again, together again, the homemade pizza remained. It had become a family tradition.
Tina silently counted to three, knowing exactly when Bette’s arms would wrap around her waist. She wasn’t disappointed this time either.
Right on cue, those strong arms encircled her, and Bette’s chin rested on her shoulder. The familiar scent of her wife quickly filled Tina's lungs, grounding her in the simple, sacred rhythm of their daily life. Habits, traditions, and the serene beauty of the everyday.
Tina closed her eyes for a moment, surrendering to the pure balance of the moment. Everything was as it should be; they were exactly where they were meant to be. Together and happy.
“Baby, you’re all wet,” Tina said with a smile, melting into Bette’s embrace as she let her head fall back slightly, resting it on her wife’s shoulder.
“And you haven’t even touched me yet…” Bette teased, laughter in her voice, brushing her nose against Tina’s cheek and inhaling the familiar scent from that small spot just beneath her ear—one of Tina’s most sensitive places.
“Bette!” Tina straightened up, playfully swatting at the arm that encircled her. Bette chuckled, watching the flush of both embarrassment and excitement bloom on Tina’s cheeks. It was something that always drove Bette wild—how Tina could be so sensually explicit when they made love, yet still get flustered by a slightly suggestive remark at an unexpected moment.
“What?” Bette replied, her voice taking on a sensual edge as she tightened her arms around Tina, holding her even closer.
“Love, you're getting water all over the floor. You could’ve at least dried off a little after the pool. You do this every time…” Tina said, a hint of exasperation in her voice.
“Maybe I like it when you get a little upset and tell me what to do,” Bette’s voice dropped a note, and then she pressed her lips to Tina’s neck, kissing her softly.
“Baby… it’s not the right time…for that…I need to finish getting everything ready. Angie will be here any minute. Go take a shower, love, get ready,” Tina urged, trying to focus as she returned to kneading the dough with determined hands.
But a moment later, the hands around her waist tightened, and with a gentle yet firm movement, Bette turned her around. Now they were face to face, eyes locked. Tina held her flour-dusted hands aloft, careful not to drop any flour on the floor or stain Bette, while her wife’s strong grip on her hips showed no sign of letting go.
“Bette, love…” Tina said, tilting her head slightly to the side with a soft smile.
“I want two minutes of your attention, or I’m not letting you continue,” Bette murmured.
Tina smiled even wider, rolling her eyes in mock protest, but her body relaxed completely under her wife’s touch, leaning back against the kitchen counter. Bette shifted her hands from Tina’s waist to the counter, trapping her in the small space between her arms. Her eyes roamed over Tina's body, savoring every curve.
“I like the apron,” Bette whispered, her tone flirtatious as her gaze lingered on her wife’s neckline, taking in the delicate curve of her collarbones. She longed to kiss them slowly, to trace the constellation of freckles that dotted Tina’s skin with her mouth, moistening them with the tip of her tongue. Then, Bette lifted her gaze, wanting nothing more than to lose herself forever in those hazel eyes, to remain there, never calling for help. Her heart began to beat a little faster.
Tina leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the lips, a gentle reminder to bring Bette back to the present—to the kitchen, to the pizza that still needed finishing.
"Baby, we’re going to be late like this," Tina said, her voice laced with a hint of urgency.
“We’ll just eat a little later,” Bette replied with a smile, stealing a kiss in the same playful way Tina had just moments before.
“Love, the house needs tidying up, and you’ve gotten water everywhere,” Tina insisted.
“I’ll tell Angie to watch her step while I clean up,” Bette leaned in again, stealing another kiss.
Tina sighed and smiled, knowing there was little she could do to sway Bette.
“I don’t want you getting flour all over the house, Bette.”
“A shower is already on my agenda, and Angie can wait on the couch while I clean everything,” Bette whispered, her lips so close to Tina’s that they shared the same breath, but she didn’t close the gap this time.
“Are you planning to be a rebellious girl tonight?” Tina’s voice dropped, becoming suddenly low and sensual. Bette pressed her body closer to Tina’s, closing the space between them completely. Tina soon felt the warmth of Bette’s body against hers, her wife’s leg nudging closer, seeking its place between her thighs.
“I plan to do exactly what you tell me to,” Bette responded playfully, closing her eyes as she brought her lips to Tina’s, barely brushing them, teasing her with soft caresses.
Bette’s eyes snapped open when she felt Tina’s index finger press gently against her lips, keeping them from closing the distance. Tina’s eyes sparkled with amusement, even as her mouth tried to maintain a forced seriousness that felt entirely out of place.
"My love," Tina whispered softly.
"Go," she urged, pressing her finger against Bette's lips with a bit more insistence.
"Get," her tone firmed up, matching the strength of her gesture.
"Ready," her voice lifted just a touch as she let out a playful laugh, watching Bette huff in mock frustration, rolling her eyes in exaggerated protest. Bette stepped back, releasing her hold on the counter, and took in the sight of Tina, noticing the flush of excitement that had crept up her neck, coloring it a deep pink.
"There was a time you’d let me make love to you right here on this counter. Flour or no flour," Bette teased, her tone playfully dissenting against the situation.
Tina reached out, grabbing Bette's wrist and pulling her close. Their bodies met with a sensual collision, their mouths finding each other with the ease of long-practiced lovers. Their lips melded in a slow, familiar kiss, as if they were making a silent promise for something more to one another. Tina’s lips parted gently, her tongue seeking out Bette's with certainty, and Bette responded with a soft, involuntary moan as their tongues met. They lingered in the kiss for a few moments, savoring the unhurried intimacy.
Then, Tina’s hands moved to Bette’s hips, her fingers pressing into her wife’s flesh with a desire that spoke of longing, even as the firm pressure of her palms signaled for Bette to step back.
"Can you hold all of this until after dinner?" Tina whispered, their foreheads resting against each other, their lips, flushed from the kiss, barely brushing. Bette smiled, stealing one last kiss before reluctantly pulling away with an exaggerated sigh.
"I’m going to take a shower," Bette said with a grin, as if conceding defeat.
As Bette turned to leave, Tina playfully swatted her on the backside. Bette glanced back with a conspiratorial laugh. Walking down the hallway, she added, "Looks like it'll have to be a cold shower."
Tina shook her head, smiling affectionately at Bette’s dramatics, then turned her focus back to the dough on the counter. Just then, the doorbell rang.
"Angie, sweetheart, come on in, it’s open," Tina called out, her hands still busy kneading the dough. When she finally looked up from the flour, the sight of Angie brought a wide smile to her face. Angie walked in, circling around the counter to get closer to Tina. Her eyes traced the wet trail from the garden door all the way to Tina's feet, a puzzled expression forming on her face. She leaned in to give Tina a kiss on the cheek.
"Hi, Mom," she greeted softly, her voice low as she pulled back from the tender gesture.
"Hi, darling," Tina replied, her smile warm, her hands momentarily pausing.
“What…?” Angie started to ask, her gaze questioning as she glanced down.
“Your mother…” Tina shook her head slightly.
“Where’s B?” Angie asked, moving to one of the kitchen stools and sitting down.
Bette reappeared in the kitchen, still in her swimsuit. "I’m off to wallow in the shower because your mom doesn’t love me anymore. Hi, honey, it’s great to see you," she said, her tone overly theatrical as she hugged Angie from behind and kissed her cheek.
"I just asked you to get ready, Bette, but clearly not much success there," Tina responded.
"See? What did I tell you, Angie? She doesn’t love me anymore."
Angie burst out laughing at her mothers’ playful banter, soaking in the lightheartedness and love that filled the house. Bette winked at Tina, who blushed and looked down, focusing on rolling out the dough.
"It’s so nice to see you both… happy," Angie said softly as Bette headed down the hallway and Tina returned to her work.
"I’ll let you know tomorrow morning if I’m still happy," Bette called out dramatically, just before the bathroom door closed behind her.
Tina looked up, locking eyes with Angie. It took a second for both of them to catch the meaning behind Bette’s words. Tina blushed under her daughter’s knowing gaze.
"Mooom!" Angie exclaimed with a laugh, feigning disgust at the thought of her parents.
Tina smiled, her heart content, her life perfectly in balance.