“Bette, this is lovely,” Tina held up her half-eaten cake. “You should make this more often.”

“Maybe some other time,” she answered absentmindedly.

“Have you tried it?”

“No.”

Tina cut a small piece of the cake and offered it to her. “You should.”

She reached for the fork, their fingers touching. Tina contemplated whether to feed the woman herself, but decided it was too intimate too soon. Her fingers lingered a little longer, cherishing their contact.

Her gaze was fixated on Bette, watching the woman take a bite of the dessert. The resulting whimper nearly brought Tina to her knees. She had too many memories of hearing that sound on a more intimate context.

“This is good,” Bette blinked in surprise.

“How can anything you make not be perfect?” Tina commented. “Here, have the rest.”

“That’s all right, Tina. There’s more in the fridge if you want to bring some home.”

“Won’t hear me say no to that. It’s too good to pass up,” Tina wondered if Bette caught on to her hidden meaning.

“I’ll go get it ready for you,” Bette gathered the empty mugs and went to the kitchen. She didn’t need to turn around to know Tina was following behind.

“Anything I can do to help?” Tina kept her voice steady.

Bette turned her head sideways and nodded toward the fridge. “Why don’t you take some lasagna home, too? I can’t possibly finish it on my own.”

She nodded in agreement, accepting the proffered containers and went to work. Separating the lasagna into sizable portions, Tina set the containers back in the fridge, keeping only two for herself.

“I hope there would be more nights like this,” Tina said quietly.

The resulting sigh was barely audible, but their proximity made sure it did not escape Tina’s ears. It was as though a linebacker had bulldozed her back to the land of exile. Rationally, she knew she needed to be patient. But this time, logic and heart was not in tune.

“I should go,” her pain was out for all to see.

“Yeah,” the gentle reply was a sharp reminder to both that there still was a bumpy road ahead of them.