“I know.” Annie folded her features into a solemn expression. She needed to know if Jane was on the same page as her. Annie let her knee drop down a little further, parting Jane’s thighs a little more—an action impossible to misinterpret.

Jane’s thighs didn’t give way to Annie’s knee as she had hoped.

“I just woke up, babe,” Jane said. Her legs remained firmly pressed together. “Give me some time.”

Annie wasn’t sure whether Jane meant time to wake up or time for more healing. “Take all the time you need.” Annie smiled down at her, then rolled back onto her side, drawing her knee back in.

“We should talk more,” Jane said. “Before we… do other things.”

“Before we have sex again,” Annie said, wanting to call a spade a spade.

Jane nodded.

Annie tried to remember how long it had been since they’d actually made love, not taking into account the failed attempt of a few weeks ago. She couldn’t even remember, that’s how long. She did know that now was not the right time to bring that up. Perhaps she shouldn’t even have tried, but, sometimes, it seemed to Annie, if she didn’t try to instigate once in a blue moon, they would stop having sex altogether.

“We have all day to talk,” Annie said on a sigh.

“Why do I feel as though it’s you holding something against me?” There was tension in Jane’s voice.

Annie slung an arm over Jane’s waist. “I’m not holding anything against you.” She pecked Jane lightly on the shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Jane angled her body toward Annie’s and scooted a little bit closer, and the gesture of her moving in Annie’s direction, even though it was only by a few millimeters, made all the difference.

They’d gone out for a wander in the neighborhood. Sometimes Annie almost literally had to drag Jane out of the house, otherwise she might stay inside for days on end. She had been spending more time in the shop, which was a good thing as far as Annie was concerned, but despite seeing Jane in her writing clothes, Annie didn’t know whether Jane had actually tried to write more. They had a lot to talk about—a lot more than just Kristin—but Annie just wanted to walk along King Street with her wife’s hand in hers. It was all the moment required. They could—and would—talk later. Perhaps say some things that had remained unsaid for too long. But for now, this companionable silence between them was all Annie craved.

They nodded at their neighbors, some of whom Jane, with her indoor ways, didn’t seem to recognize.