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Bette stood firmly at the kitchen counter, pen in hand, her wide brown eyes raking over the sheet of paper in front of her. The list was long - too long, if she were honest with herself. But the items crossed were slowly starting to outnumber the items left to do, so that was something. Despite all the apps and spreadsheets at her disposal, Bette always found writing things out by hand to be the most effective way to commit things to memory. There was something grounding about the physical act, the way her thoughts seemed to solidify as she wrote.
Outside the wide windows, snow fell steadily, blanketing the streets of Toronto in a muffled white. The oversized Christmas tree in the corner of the living room twinkled with lights, the ornaments glinting in the glow of the lamp. Everything in the room could rival a festive department store window with its enormous volume of holiday cheer… except for the tension radiating from Bette.
Her mother was arriving tomorrow, spending her first Christmas in their home, and the first Christmas with Bette since she was a young girl. It had been Tina’s idea, the seed of suggestion planted casually over a barbecue in the summer, and blossoming into a plan by early fall. At the time, Bette had agreed, but now, as Maxine’s arrival loomed, her nerves rattled louder with each passing hour. Everything needed to be perfect.
Tina leaned over her from behind, casting her eyes over the list: the sharp column of items, alongside a scrawled flow chart of activities, underlines, circles, question marks - all the trademarks of her wife’s thought process. Without hesitation, she rested a hand on Bette’s waist and pressed a firm kiss to her shoulder.
“Baby, it’s just Christmas,” Tina reminded her gently. “We’ve hosted dozens of these. It’s just one more… but this time with a new guest at the table. I don’t think you need to be… this stressed,”
Bette straightened, her lips pursing slightly. “It’s not the same, and you know it. And I’m not stressed - I’m planning.”
Tina smiled and shook her head, pulling back to lean casually against the counter. “Whatever you say. Just let me know what you need me to do. I’m at your complete disposal from now until when I need to leave to pick up Alice and Shane in … forty-five minutes.”
She had already spent most of the day running errands, braving the heaving crowds of festive shoppers while she crossed off the majority of food and drink requests from Bette’s meticulous list. Love was a powerful thing, but even love required a little patience when Bette got into one of her moods. Tina had hoped a few hours apart would help. Judging by the stiffness in Bette’s shoulders, it hadn’t.
Bette let out a small huff, her lips pressing into a tight line. It was enough dealing with the stress, without also having Tina thinking she wasn’t dealing with the stress. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear with the kind of force that suggested she might snap it off. Her pen moved deliberately over the list in before of her. “Thank you, baby,” she said, distracted. “By the way, did you get the -”
“Yes,” Tina interrupted calmly.
Bette drew a firm line through “cherry pie” on the paper and moved to the next item without missing a beat. “And the -”
“Yes! The eggnog is in the refrigerator. If it was on your list, I got it,” Tina said, her patience thinning.
Bette suppressed a sigh, turning her focus to a package of poppyseed crackers sitting on the counter. Her dark eyes narrowed. “Baby, I didn’t want these. I wanted the peppercorn ones. They pair better with the brie.”
Tina exhaled slowly, the stream of air lifting a strand of blonde hair from her face. Her lips tightened just enough for Bette to notice. “Okay,” she said, placing her hands flat on the counter. “We already have some in the pantry. Would it make you feel better if I got them and laid them out for you?”
“If you don’t mind…”
Placing the packs of crackers on the counter with more grace than she felt they deserved, she turned back to Bette, and leaned against the island, crossing her arms.“You know, it doesn't all have to be perfect right this second, Bette. We've still got tomorrow for any last bits.”
Bette barely looked up. “I know that. But I’d feel much more comfortable if it was all set before the girls arrive later. I’ll get nothing done while they’re settling in tonight, so I’m trying to get it all out of the way now,” she explained before changing track. “Anyway, did you get the gluten-free bread for Alice?”
Tina’s brow arched in amusement. “Is she definitely still not doing gluten?”
“Well, she asked -” Bette began tightly.
“She literally ate two burgers in front of me when I was in LA last month,” Tina interrupted with a laugh. “Whole wheat.”
Bette’s expression flattened. “Tina, I don’t know. She asked for it, so I can only assume -”
“Okay, sheesh!” Tina threw her hands up and gave Bette a warning look before speaking slowly and clearly. “I will get them while I’m out later, and if not, first thing tomorrow. Please, calm down, I’m begging you.”
“Sorry. I'm trying my best here.” Bette said, although her tone didn't sound apologetic at all. “And, just one last thing - the rosemary?” Bette pressed, rifling through the shopping bags. “I could have sworn rosemary was on that list I gave you,” she called out to Tina’s retreating figure.
Out of sight in the walk-in pantry, Tina pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath, counting down from 5 before responding as neutrally as she could. “Bette, we have three bunches already. I didn’t buy more, because we don’t need more. ”
Bette slammed a cabinet door with a little too much force. “Well, as far as I could see, we don’t have any. Unless you’ve done one of your magic tricks and hidden it away somewhere.”
Pushing past the brunette, Tina opened the cabinet door next to where Bette had been ‘looking’ and, with exaggeration, pulled out not three, but four bundles of rosemary. “Right - and did you look with your hands or just your eyes?” She threw the rosemary onto the counter. “ Abracadabra.”
Bette glared sharply. “Don't patronise me, Tina.”
“I'm not patronising you! I'm trying to help you, but you’re making it really fucking hard. I’m here to help, remember?”
“By speaking to me like a child?” Bette shot back. She was edging towards combustion, and Tina had reached the point where she couldn’t summon the effort to try and stop it. So she nipped at it. May as well get the explosion over with.
“Well if you're going to act like one -” Tina muttered
Brown eyes flashed back at Tina, dark and dangerous. “Don’t.”
“I don’t even know why you are even so stressed about the food,” Tina snapped, exasperated. “You won’t even be doing any of the cooking!”
Bette opened her mouth to fire back, but held up her hands instead, pressing her fingers into her temples. Her eyes closed for a second, trying to block out the mounting frustration inside her, until eventually she shook her head, choosing silence over escalating the argument. There wasn’t time for her entire evening to deteriorate because she lost her temper. Time, and therapy, had changed her in a lot of ways - dulled her instinct to lash out in the moment. But that didn’t stop her from imagining, just for a second, how satisfying it might be to close the kitchen door with Tina on the other side of it - purely out of love and preservation.
Then, with her mother’s knack for impeccably imperfect timing, Angie’s footsteps sounded loudly as she trudged downstairs, before calling out cautiously - in what was the universal tone for don’t be mad at me, but…
“Mom…”
“What?” Both Bette and Tina responded in unison, and it was hard to tell who’s tone had more bite.
Angie chewed her lip and glanced at the ceiling as if searching for divine intervention. “Um, my iPad isn’t working, and -”
“Again?” Bette cut in. “Angie, baby, that’s the second one this year! What on earth do you do to them?”
“I don’t do anything to them! The first one was faulty - the guy at the store even said so, and this one - well, I think it got squished in my backpack or something, and -”
“Squashed in your backpack?” Bette echoed incredulously, while Tina raised her brows. “Upstairs? You haven’t taken that backpack anywhere in over a week!”
Angie hesitated, then grimaced and held out the iPad, the screen a web of shattered glass with pixelated lines streaked across it.
Bette gave a dry laugh. “Do you think I failed my last eye test, sweetheart? You’re telling me that you placed your iPad carefully in your backpack - saying nothing for the fact that I can’t see the floor in your bedroom at ALL - and it just… broke. Like that. Angie, honey, you're an adult now. If you stood on it, just say so.”
Angie shrugged and crossed her arms. “Fine, I stood on it,”
“For fuck’s sake, Angelica!” Bette cried, running a hand through her hair.
“You said you wouldn’t be mad!” Angie protested, her voice rising equally to match her mother’s.
“I certainly did not,” Bette shot back. “I said just say so -”
“Enough!” Tina said firmly, stepping between them with her hands raised like a referee calling time-out. She threw a look at both of them: Bette glaring at the ceiling as if summoning patience and Angie pointedly avoiding eye contact with either of her parents.
“Sweetie,” Tina turned calmly to Angie, “Can you manage without it for a couple of days? The stores are going to be insane right now - it’s the day before Christmas Eve.”
Angie shook her head in frustration. “I need it! I have assignments! Maybe it’s been a while since either of you were in college, but -”
“Maybe if you cleaned up your junk from the floor, you wouldn’t have stepped on it.” Bette interrupted. “I know it’s been a hot minute since I was in college, but I can tell you my bedroom never looked like that -”
“Oh, sure -” Angie shot back with a signature Bette Porter eye-roll that made Tina do a double-take, before realising this was all going south, and quickly.
“STOP!” Tina’s voice cut through the bickering. The three of them froze - Angie sulking, Bette fuming, and Tina standing firm, determined to stop the impending meltdown before it ruined Christmas completely.
Taking a deep breath, Tina switched on her management voice. “Angie, baby, will you do me a favour? Go pick up Alice and Shane from the airport?”
“But -” Bette started, already gearing up for another protest.
Angie lifted her eyebrows in surprise, but perked up slightly at the mention of Shane and Alice. Tina continued, ignoring Bette’s brewing objections. “Sweetie, your mom and I will pick up a new iPad tomorrow. Don’t worry, okay? Accidents happen. Just promise me you’ll take better care of the next one, and repay the debt with this small favour. Deal?”
Angie hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly, the corners of her mouth twitching into a small smile. In her mind, she had definitely come off better than expected - she would get a new iPad and an uninterrupted forty minutes to vent to Alice and Shane about her insane parents.
“Deal,” she said stiffly. “Thank you.”
“It’s snowing like hell out there, Tina,” Bette began, waving towards the window. “And Angie doesn’t have -”
“You’re absolutely right,” Tina interrupted smoothly. “She doesn’t have a lot of opportunities to practise driving in the snow in California. Now is the perfect chance. Thanks, Angie. Call me when you’re parked up, okay?”
Bette’s mouth opened, a fresh protest forming, but Tina shut it down with a look that Bette knew better than to challenge. Angie scurried to the door, grabbing her coat and boots without looking back, determined not to give Bette a chance to object further.
“And you,” Tina rounded on Bette, “get your coat.”
Bette frowned. “Tina, I cannot go waltzing around with you tonight. There’s still too much to do, and -”
“Coat. Now.” Tina’s tone left no room for argument.
Grumbling about “waste of time” and “completely unnecessary,” Bette pulled on her coat and shoes. She climbed into the car without a word, still muttering under her breath. Tina waited until Angie had manoeuvred out of the drive before pulling into the street, her hands firm on the wheel as the snow fell steadily outside. The ride was so far silent, but Tina didn’t mind. She could feel Bette’s simmering twitches of frustration, but she knew that in a few moments, curiosity would get the better of her and she would want to know where they were going.
Outside, snow blanketed the streets, and the soft haze of lights in frosted windows reflected off the icy pavement. Despite her leather boots and the heater blasting into the footwell, cold air seemed to settle around Bette’s ankles. She folded her arms, staring mindlessly out the window as the car rolled smoothly down the quiet streets. After a few turns, her shoulders had dropped significantly, although she wouldn’t have said she was anywhere near ‘at ease’.
“Where exactly are you taking me, Tina?” Bette asked, her voice softer now, letting a little of the holiday fatigue finally creep through. Tina grinned, her hands steady on the wheel as she navigated yet another turn carefully. Right on cue, she thought with satisfaction.
“We,” she began, flashing a fixed smile at Bette, “are going for a little walk through the Christmas markets. We’re going to hold hands, smile at each other, and drink mulled wine. We’re going to browse the stalls and pretend we don’t care how extortionately overpriced they are. Then, we’re going to find a cosy booth, and you’re going to talk to me about what’s really bothering you. And, after that, you’re going to look into my eyes, tell me you love me, kiss me, and thank me for getting you out of the house.”
Bette let out a surprised scoff, but it wasn’t without a little amusement. As much as she was surprised to admit it, there was something so purely comforting about not having to task through the next hour or so, to let Tina take the wheel for a little while, so to speak. “Well,” she said, tilting her head thoughtfully, her frown shrinking but not disappearing. “That doesn’t sound awful.”
“No,” Tina agreed, reaching over to squeeze the brunette’s thigh affectionately. “It doesn’t. I thought it sounded pretty festive, actually.”
She pulled off a near-perfect reverse parallel park on the side of a snow-dusted street and glanced over at Bette again, who had fallen silent. Pulling out her phone, Tina tapped the screen a few times and with a satisfied little hum, had placed a next-day delivery order for an iPad.
“I wasn’t kidding about the stores,” she muttered, holding up the confirmation screen. “I’m not stepping foot near them. Right now, I’ll pay whatever ridiculous fee they want for next-day delivery. Chalk it up to a convenience expense.”
Bette snorted a small laugh and nodded. “Festive and practical. Impressive.”
“That’s why you married me,” Tina winked, already stepping out into the crisp winter evening. “Let’s move.”
The cold bit sharply at Bette’s cheeks, still somehow taking her by surprise even after her second winter in the city. Wooden stalls stretched in neat rows, their roofs sturdy under a thick layer of snow, looking a little bit more magical with the twinkling lights strung from stall to stall.
The aisles between them were heaving with people, the crowd tricky to move through in parts - but only if you wanted to move quickly. If you were happy to move at the tourist’s cattle pace, it was no bother at all. Bette shrugged off the last of her bad mood as best she could, and pulled her beanie a little further down to cover her ears as the snowfall eased to light, lazy little flakes. Reaching down, she slid her hand into Tina’s, their fingers threading naturally.
Tina glanced at her, a grin spreading across her face that crinkled the corners of her hazel eyes. Without a word, she tucked their joined hands into her coat pocket, a cosy little gesture born of the cold seasons spent in Toronto. It was a new habit, a habit they hadn’t ever needed during the sun-soaked years in LA. They moved quietly, at an easy pace through the market, surrounded by the smell of roasting chestnuts, mulled cider, and occasional wafts of fried food. At one stall, Bette tugged gently for Tina to hang back, before she handed over a few dollars for a bag of cinder toffee, a shared guilty pleasure during the season. She opened the bag and held it out to Tina, who popped a piece into her mouth with a smile.
At the end of one aisle, Tina ordered two mulled wines from a jolly-looking man that Bette thought could have passed for Santa Claus himself. She handed one cup to Bette, who was eager but experience had taught her to take the first sip cautiously, the margin for burning her tongue too small for any errors. They wandered a little further, their conversation still sparse, more about being together than filling the quiet. Finally, they reached a cluster of wooden booths in a makeshift pop-up bar, cosy and inviting with a huge firepit crackling in the centre of all the booths. Tina led them to one and slid onto the bench, pulling Bette down beside her instead of taking a seat across. They sipped at their drinks silently for a few minutes before Bette sighed.
“I’m sorry,” she began quietly, resting her head on Tina’s shoulder. “I just - I want everything to be… perfect.”
“You don’t need to apologise,” Tina replied easily, swilling the ruby liquid in her cup. “You just need to remember I’m on your side. I don’t think it’s really about everything being perfect, anyway, I think it’s about control, and you know what? It’s natural to feel stressed about your mom coming for Christmas. I’m stressed about your mom coming for Christmas.”
“You are?” Bette lifted her head, surprised.
“Of course I am! It’s a completely new situation. I know every part of you… except for her. It’s intimidating.” Tina shrugged. “And sure, she wasn’t exactly ‘Mother of the Year’, but I still feel like I have to prove myself. Like I need her to see that you’ve married well, that your life with me is good, and that I’m taking care of you.”
“She would have to be blind not to see that.” Bette gave a weak smile. “But... I guess a small part of me still wants her approval. And I don’t know why. She hasn’t earned that power, but somehow, I still want it.”
Tina leaned closer, her arm wrapping around Bette’s shoulders. “Well, if she’s basing her judgement on how perfect your Christmas dinner is, then she’s looking for you in all the wrong places. If she truly wants to know you after all this time, she won’t care if you served up scrambled eggs on toast. She’s coming to experience you , Bette. Your family, your life. That’s what matters.”
Unbidden, Bette’s eyes filled with tears, her voice thick with realisation. “I can’t even make scrambled eggs,” she said with a wet laugh.
Tina chuckled and gently thumbed a tear from below Bette’s eye. “No, you definitely can’t, but they are tricky. They take patience,” she said with a smirk full of love. “But once your mom sees how much love fills your home, and the goodness of the people around you... the poppyseed crackers won’t matter, or the table runner, or any of the other things. They’re just things. She’s lucky to have you back in her life.”
Bette blinked her tears back as best she could and smiled softly. “I’m lucky to have you in my life, you know that?” She lifted Tina’s hand and kissed her gloved fingers.
“Oh, you really are,” Tina grinned, and Bette laughed, feeling lighter than she had for weeks. “So, can we skip the stress, and the traditional Christmas domestic turbulence, and just… try to enjoy it?”
“That’s what I love about you. Always full of good ideas,” Bette said. She leaned in and pressed her lips against Tina’s, tasting wine and cinnamon and every fibre of skin that loved her as fiercely as she loved in return. “Thank you, by the way.” She kissed her again. “I couldn’t get out of my own head.”
Tina rested a hand on Bette’s cheek, cupping her jaw gently, unable to resist kissing her once more. “Do you think that the mulled wine might be helping?” Tina asked.
“You’re helping,” Bette smiled against Tina’s lips, and the blonde chuckled softly in response. As her phone vibrated in her pocket, Tina pulled it out and answered.
“Hey sweetie,” she said brightly into the mouthpiece. Bette smiled to herself, hearing the familiar chaos of Angie, Alice, and Shane in the background - a trio that somehow always managed to make the noise of six people, instead of three. Bette let her thumb drift lazily against Tina’s thigh as she spoke to Angie, before she waved to get her attention.
“Tell Angie to bring them straight here,” Bette said in a loud whisper, pointing to the table in front of them. Tina raised an eyebrow but relayed the message all the same, and Bette heard a burst of excitement from the other end of the line.
“Yes, Angie, she’s back to normal now. I think,” Tina said, and Bette gave her a playful elbow in response. After a moment, Tina ended the call and tilted her head at her wife.
“Are you sure? You don’t want to... get back to your precious to-do list sooner?” Tina asked carefully.
Bette smiled, wrapping her arm around the blonde and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I don’t think there’s anything left to do, is there? Other than drinking this overpriced mulled wine with my beautiful wife, and waiting for the rest of the family to arrive.”
Tina leaned into her shoulder. “That’s the most Christmas-y thing you’ve said all week.”