Tina blinked, suddenly very still, the flutter in her heart growing, and she was worried she would start crying if Bette kept talking. The extent to which she loved Bette’s letters she could never fully express, she kept them in a box on her desk and every so often would pull one out to read and just lose herself in the love they contained.

“I love your letters, Honey.” Her voice was low, heartfelt. She looked like she might cry any minute and Bette silently thanked James for suggesting she just gave of herself.

“I know. Do you want to read it now or after dinner?”

Tina swallowed some wine, smiling at Bette as she put the glass down. “Now. Babe. I won’t be able to think about anything else.”

She watched as Bette reached for her purse, noting for the umpteenth time that evening how truly beautiful the brunette was. Her dress was black and slinky, a high neck but tight around her hips and breasts. With her hair up and straightened, Bette looked like a movie star, sexy, elegant, sophisticated.

Bette handed her a long, white envelope, smiling shyly. Taking the envelope in her hand, Tina held on to Bette’s hand, turning it over to kiss her wrist and palm before letting go.
She opened the envelope and slowly pulled out a single sheet of paper, handwritten in Bette’s flowing script, scented with her perfume. All it needed was a… there… a lipstick kiss at the bottom. She glanced up at Bette, smiling so sweetly, Bette thought her heart was going to stop right then and there.

“I love it.”

“You haven’t read it yet…”

“I know. But I will, I will love it. And I will probably be crying so I am telling you ahead of time. I love it…”

There was nothing to say to that, Bette’s eyes watering as the blonde head turned to read the words in her hands.

Tee,
I’ve never been good at talking about how I feel. I struggle with the words. Speaking them, telling them, giving them sound. They get stuck in my throat, lodged there like an empty promise. I was always better at writing my thoughts, putting words to paper where they take root and flower. On this Valentine’s Day… our eighth… it feels different. It feels like our first. It feels like our first Valentine’s Day because this time I know what it is like to not have you to love, to not have your heart, your body… your beautiful dancing, twirling in the sun body… I know now what it is like to not be able to show I love you.