“I know you do,” I replied. I shuddered a little. It seemed to be getting colder.

“I was-I didn’t like that she said that. So I told her it was over and I stormed out of there, but halfway home, I started feeling sort of sick.”

“Sick?”

“I don’t know.” She looked at me carefully. “What do you think?”

“Me?”

She nodded.

There were a lot of things I thought, I guess. There were obvious things like the fact that Bette liked Tina more than she pretended. There were hunches-the idea that maybe she felt she’d shown Tina the wrong side of her, the side that was human, and Tina had sort of confirmed that nobody wants a Bette who’s human; everybody wants a Bette who’s flawless.

Was it my place to tell her, though? I was selfish, I knew that. I wanted Bette all to myself and I didn’t care who got hurt as a result.

Except, I did sort of care. A little. Especially if the person who got hurt was Bette.

I said with a smile, “I gotta say, I’m more surprised that you’re opening up to me than anything.”

Bette looked relieved at my lightheartedness and smiled back. “I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather talk to.” She shrugged and added playfully, “Plus, I know you’re over me since you’re some sort of dating machine these days.”

I laughed painfully. “I go on two dates and I’m a dating machine?” She nudged me. It didn’t make me feel any better.

She looked somber suddenly. “I wish I’d never started this whole thing. I wish I’d never even attempted to get involved with her. I wish she hadn’t seen me-”

“What, fail? Make a mistake?” She averted her gaze. I sighed. “No, you don’t,” I said quietly. “Because you like her.”

She was silent for a long beat.

“I don’t know what to do.”

*****. I really did love her. I wasn’t crazy. I mean, I was. It was crazy for me to still be in love with her, particularly when she’d never felt the same way about me to begin with. But it wasn’t so crazy to fall in love with her, because I was right about everything. She was a good person. She was wonderful and passionate and beautiful and she was all those things a ***** of a lot more when she was happy.

I didn’t know if Tina was going to make her happy, but apparently I couldn’t be the one who did. So I said, “What do you mean you don’t know what to do? Do what you do best.”

She frowned. “I tried to. Tonight. I told you, I can’t­-”

I snickered. “Bette, surprisingly, you’re good at other things besides *****. Do the flowers thing. Do that thing where you’re amazingly charming and persuasive. Women melt when you do that to them-I speak from personal experience.”

Bette chuckled.

I swallowed. “Just-explain to Tina that you fucked up. Show her that you’re not incapable of a relationship.”

“What if I am?”

“What if you’re not?” She looked at me, pensive. Another cool wind blew past and I shivered a little.

She came out of her thoughts for a moment. “Cold?”

“A little.”

She shrugged and pulled her coat off. “You should have said something.” She held it out to me.

“You know what?” I said, standing up. “***** the coat. Let’s go get coffee somewhere. Indoors. And warm.”

Bette straightened up too, putting her coat back on. “That sounds good. Thanks, Alice.”

I shrugged and thanked her silently for stupid things, like calling me in the first place and noticing that I was cold. “What are friends for?”

She slipped her arms around my waist and embraced me and I was grateful that I’d rejected her coat because she was warmer anyway. She kissed me on the cheek.

“Coffee?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said.