She waits for Bette’s familiar laugh but furrows her brows when she doesn’t hear anything.  “Baby?” She continues walking. “Where are you?”

Still no answer. She then catches the unmistakable aroma of something delicious coming from the kitchen. She stops and lifts her nose slightly. “What the hell? What smells so good?”

Tina smiles despite herself. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you actually used our fancy new stove, Bette Porter?”

As she moves farther into the house, Tina finally notices the soft music drifting through the open living area. She recognizes the song almost immediately. “Coming Home” by Leon Bridges. Her expression softens as she listens to one of her favorite songs.

A gentle smile touches her lips as the warm, soulful melody fills the house. She looks around, suddenly aware of how unusually quiet everything is. “Why is it so quiet? Are the kids not here?”

She rounds the corner into the living room and stops dead in her tracks. “Oh!” Her entire body jerks in surprise. Her purse slips from her fingers and lands on the floor with a soft thud, and both hands fly to her mouth.

Across the beautifully furnished living room, Bette is down on one knee in front of the large windows overlooking their backyard. Directly behind her, arranged in an adorably imperfect little line, are Angie and Mickey. Both children are kneeling, too. All three are wearing matching blue-and-white striped pajama sets.

Bette’s dark curls fall loosely around her shoulders, and she’s pushed the sleeves of her pajama top casually to her elbows.

Angie is grinning so wide that her cheeks look ready to burst. Mickey, whose pajama pants are slightly bunched around his ankles, concentrates hard on staying in the same position as his mama.

Bette holds a small black velvet ring box.

Tina stares; her eyes move from Bette to Angie, then Mickey, then back to Bette. For several seconds, she cannot speak as the music continues playing softly. “Bette…” Her voice breaks.

Bette smiles. “Hey, baby.”

Tina lets out a breathless laugh, tears already gathering in her eyes.

Bette rises from her knees and walks the short distance between them, holding the box in one hand. When she reaches Tina, she gently cups her face. “Hey,” she whispers again.