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A timer goes off on the stove clock. Fifteen minutes flew by in the blink of an eye. She barely even had time to soak it all in.
“I’ve got it Bea!”
Time seems to do that now, fly by. For the longest time, the hours dragged slowly, unending. Time flowed like wet grains of sand in an hourglass, stuck in their own friction.
Beatrice doesn’t like to think about those time anymore.
She likes to think about the present.
The present where Ava runs down the hallway, like she always does, never one to take her time when there’s something she wants at the end of her journey. She skids across the tile floor in her socks into the kitchen, flashing Beatrice a wide grin across the room. She’s been enjoying a good book and warm mug of tea as the afternoon Saturday sun dips beneath the horizon, casting long dramatic shadows over everything in the living room, and bathing their whole house in a warm golden glow. Her favorite time of day. Doing her favorite activity. While her favorite person in the whole world takes a fresh batch of muffins out of the oven.
“Those smell delicious, darling,” Beatrice comments when the scent of warm bread and cinnamon hit her.. She marks her spot in her book and sets it on the end table besides her mug as she gets up from her nest on the couch. She softly walks over to Ava to wrap her arms around her girlfriend as Ava inspects the cooling muffins.
“They look good, I think?” Ava asks, doubtful, poking the crumble on top of each mound. Clumsy as she is, ends up accidentally burning herself on the still hot tin. “Ah!”
Beatrice is there when Ava jumps back, keeping her girl friend from falling over, again, from something that startled her. She’s quick to pull out aloe cream from the medical draw behind her, before gently applying the cold salve to Ava’s hurt finger.
“I’d kiss it to make it better, but Aloe Vera is semi-toxic to people,” Beatrice says with the faintest hint of a smirk on her face, causing Ava to pout back.
“That was one time, Bea,” Ava rolls her eyes, but can’t hold back her own grin.
“I’d never forget anything about you, love,” Bea whispers as she steps into Ava’s space, her hands automatically finding their home in the dip of Ava’s waist.
Ava’s face turns as red as her burnt finger while she bites back a smile, trying to look anywhere but Beatrice’s face inches away from her own. “Who taught you to be romantically cheesy?” She asks, her voice mildly strained.
“I believe that was you, darling,” Beatrice knows she’s laying it on thick. But Ava’s hands have made their way around her neck and she’s musing soft circles into the fine baby hairs there. So she deserves to feel flustered back.
“You’re awful, you know that?” Ava says with a giggle, finally looking up to Beatrice with her beautiful brown eyes. Eyes, that at one point, Beatrice never thought she’d see again. Eyes that she’d go through hell and back, again, to keep safe. Eyes that only look at her like that.
“Some people have said that. But then again, most of them were in a cult or were trying to hurt you. I can’t believe you’re siding with the cultists, dear.”
“Who were they worshiping again?”
“I don’t have the slightest idea,” Bea answers back with a smile as the memories that threatened to rear their ugly heads don’t. Their fight is over, the past. It can stay there where it belongs.
Because now, the present, is time for muffins.
“Those do look amazing, Ava,” Bea says, taking her eyes off Ava’s to glance toward the muffins. Ava pulls her in for a quick kiss before turning around to look at the batch together.
“I know right!” Ava exclaims, now proudly since Beatrice has given them her stamp of approval. “I had no idea Jillian could bake. I’ll have to ask her for her recipe next time I want to make something.”
Ava goes to reach for one when Beatrice lightly grabs her wrist to stop Ava from burning herself again. “Those are probably still hot, darling. You can’t eat them yet.”
She side eyes Beatrice with a smirk and devious eyes, “You’re still hot, but I get to eat you,” she says low and husky, waggling her eyebrows because she thinks she’s funny.
“You are the worst, Ava Silva,” Beatrice says trying to hide the amusement in her voice. “But I love you anyways.”
“I love you too, Beatrice. In this life or the next,” Ava breathes out.
“In this life or the next,” Beatrice whispers back, puncturing the promise with another heartfelt kiss. A promise of the present and the future, of a shared life, no matter the time.
“Ok but when can I have a muffin? I’m starving.”
“Ava, you really are the worst.”