But she missed Bette.  She missed how well they had connected on every level, and she felt that for some reason, that connection had dimmed when they got to New York. There was just so much “noise” now, coming between them.   Ironically, George had mentioned to her over dinner during his last visit, that there was now little to no noise at all, between him and Bette.  No “daylight,” as he put it, between them.  Bette had smiled at that.  George explained Bette could anticipate what and how he would react to things, and he was beginning to know how she did, as well.  Tina responded, in jest, but with some bite, “so you’re her work husband, and I’m her what, home partner?” Bette’s face tightened a bit, upon hearing that, then hid her reaction by drinking some wine.

She heard Bette turn the shower in the other bathroom on.

Tina roused herself out off the bed, went to the other bathroom where Bette was, then, in the cloudy mist created by the steam of the shower, she felt for the shower door.  She opened it, felt Bette’s shoulder, and kissed it.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’ve just been so tired, lately.  I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s alright, T,” Bette answered, cutting off the rest of Tina’s apology. Her back was turned to Tina, as she stood facing the shower.  “You’re right.  I should have checked with you first, find out what it was you wanted to do.”

Tina could see Bette’s shape in the mist, and felt a deep yearning to touch her, make love to her, reconnect with her.  She missed tasting her, and missed Bette’s tongue tasting her, and moving inside of her, as well.

But, after a further pause, she stepped away, and shut the shower door.

When she felt Tina walk away, and heard the bathroom door shut, Bette leaned into the shower wall, allowing the water to cascade down the back of her neck, massaging the tension gathering there.  She rested her head against the wall, felt tears gathering in her eyes.

It had been, what, weeks, or more than a month maybe, since they had last had sex.  She knew Tina was still interested in her, judging by the way those hazel eyes followed Bette around the room often, when she thought Bette wasn’t looking, or by the way they had locked eyes either over dinner, whether or not they were with other people, or when they were just by themselves.  They still reached out to touch each other unconsciously, and kissed with intensity, on occasion.