Chapter Text
In private, Beth thought of her lovers as an angel and a devil: good, sweet Alison who baked for every occasion and wiped away her tears, and the altogether different Angela, who, on the one incidence that they had attempted to go on a date, had looked across the table at her and said: “Romance isn’t dead, it’s just bullshit.”
They each brought different things out in her: with Alison she snuggled and watched soccer games on weekend mornings, with Angela she sparred and drank shots until the early hours, and between them, they made her whole.