Bette rolled over in the small bed, the sheets in disarray as her leg
hung over the left side of the bed. A warm arm was draped over her,
playing with the soft curls of her hair. Bette opened her still tired
eyes and they focused on Candace.

She felt no pangs of regret over Tina finding out, in fact, she felt
rather liberated by the revelation. She stared up at the ceiling of
Candace’s bedroom, reliving that night in slow motion. It must have
been when she’d gone to tell Candace how beautiful she’d looked.

It would have come out one way or the other, because Bette knew in her
heart, that her relationship with Tina, had been over even before she’d
lost the baby. Since that moment in time where they’d stopped being a
couple, and Bette had turned her back on her own pain.

Candace moved a bit, nuzzling further into her arms; and Bette kissed
her forehead lovingly. She smiled shyly, pulling back a bit to get a
better look at Candace. She was different than any other woman she’d
ever been with.

She was honest, blatantly so, pretty but not in the conventional
manner. It wasn’t just her outer beauty, it was the inner one that had
made Bette gravitate towards her. Her willingness to go into something
full throttle, her lust for life. Her passion for her work, the way she
spoke of her family, a loving accepting unit.

Bette slowly untangled her limbs from Candace’s limbs, marveling at how
the woman slept so soundly. Like a child with no worries in the world.
Bette stood, seeing Candace’s bathrobe hanging on the bathroom door,
she took it and slipped into the dark green terry cloth. Old, worn and
well loved, Bette smiled, putting it to her nose and taking a long
whiff of the scent that she knew was Candace’s.

Bette made her way silently into the kitchen, opening the fridge, and
pulling out eggs, bacon, bread, milk, orange juice, jam that looked
homemade. Fresh fruits, oranges, an apple, strawberries and blueberries
to garnish the plate with.

She then searched for the pancake mix, but found none. She grimaced,
not really being much of a French toast maker, but she was going to
give it a shot. She found the cinnamon hiding away with the spices and
turned on the oven. She quietly went back to the bedroom and closed the
door, so that the noise in the kitchen didn’t wake the slumbering
beauty.