This is just a quick, rubbish, little one shot that I might make a two shot, I don't know yet. You know when you just have a burst of inspiration and you're just like waaaahhhh I need to wriiiitteeeeee! This is what happens when that occurs.

I apologise profusely for the mistakes, I am writing this in the freaking middle of the freaking night. There is bound to be many, most likely the whole damn thing.

It gets so shitty at the end but I think I'ts because I am tired and total CBA with attempting this tomorrow after a full day working with animals that are nearly dying.

So. Enjoy x

There was a deal that was made when you were nineteen. A deal that you probably think has been around since you were four but was never said out loud. A deal that you've grown to realise was never going to work because, like Peter Pan once said, "Forever is a long time and time has a way of changing things."

You used to talk every day. Some days, you didn't even have anything to say; you just liked to lay there and listen to her breathing. Watch her sleeping. Just smile for three or four hours straight.

You knew it was going to be hard when you left her, alone, in Ohio so you could make your way to New York. You knew it wasn't going to be easy, not waking up to her face nearly every single day. You knew that you would struggle.

But you never knew it would tear you apart.

It's your birthday today. You're turning thirty. The big 3-0 as Rachel keeps saying. You've been trying to ignore it for the past twelve months. Little Miss Berry made that impossibly hard for you to do so.

You're lying on your goose-down California King bed, one arm slung high above your head, the other resting gently on the centre of your torso. You are watching it rise with each intake of breath and delicately fall back down, right to where it started. Your fingernails are scratched and worn and the blue nail varnish you've had painted on them for several weeks is chipped and clumped into the corners of your cracked hands.

You're not allowed to wear nail varnish in the pool.

You can smell the familiar scent of salt and creamy vanilla – the smell you've come to grow so fond of over the past eight years. It makes you sigh and smile and arch your back so you can stretch out the night's exhaustion. The pillows scrunch up around you and form a shield right above your head. Your raven locks fall softly onto your crinkled face, so you instantly close your eyes in an attempt to stop the tickling.

"Mami?"

Your eyes pop open just as quickly as you squeezed them shut and you turn towards your door, a grin spreading over your face.

"Maisie Moo," You coo affectionately, rolling over to gather your daughter up in your arms. "How is my best little bunny this morning?"

You kiss her olive forehead and hug her close to your body.

"Shh, Mami, today is not about me." She scolds, sitting up and straddling your belly. "Today is a Mami Day."

"And what exactly is a Mami Day?" You ask, grinning at your daughter's cuteness.

"A day where I get to spend the whole day thinking about you!"

You giggle rhythmically because your daughter could not live up to her name any more. That thought makes your grin disappear a little, but you force it away when Maisie's little brown eyes are looking at you with such excitement.

"What have you got planned, Moo Bear?"

Your eight-year-old daughter looks impeccably pleased with herself, as she raises her finger to her lips and points to the door with the other one.

You realise she wants you to follow her, so you do, trying to keep up with her youthful hops as you descend the stairs of your beach house, hand in hand. Your bare legs are hit with the early morning breeze from where Maisie has probably come downstairs to let the dog out and left the door open. You realise then that you are only wearing your bed shirt and if anyone decides to crash your Mami Day, you are not really decent enough to get them to piss off.

You don't have time to worry excessively, because Maisie drags you straight to the door and tells you to close your eyes. You do so and you hear her little tiny feet pad out to the veranda and shuffle about. There's a moment where you wish you had more hands to cover your ears as well because you can totally hear her whispering instructions to the dog.

"Lali, don't eat the chocolates, they're Mami's favourite."

You giggle because, again, your daughter is too cute.

"Okay, Mami, you can open your eyes!"

You do and instantly you are met with your four-year-old Dalmatian holding a box of your favourite chocolates and Maisie kneeling next to her with a sign that says in her curly wurly handwriting,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAMI!

You're so overwhelmed that you bring your palm to your mouth and choke back a giggly sob at the same time as leaning forward to envelope them both in a hug. Maisie squeals and Lali just kind of sits there, the chocolates still hanging from her mouth. You can feel something dripping on your left arms and you soon realise that Lali is drooling everywhere.

"Lala!" You gasp, pulling back and inspecting your arm. "You disgusting creature."

"Mami, she just wants your chocolates." Maisie said, ever the voice of reason.

You laugh as you take them out of the dog's mouth and lead Maisie back inside.

"What can I make you for breakfast, pumpkin?" You ask as you start rifling through the fridge for food. Sometimes, the kid liked bacon and other times she just liked a plain fruit salad. If it was the weekend, which it was, you would bake her some pancakes.

"Mami, what don't you understand about a Mami Day?" Maisie says, exasperatedly, as she yanks open the pantry door. Her short raven curls bounce adorably backwards as she steps swiftly into the cupboard, mumbling something about being busy with Auntie Rachel the day before.

You think how familiar that sounds.

"We baked you a breakfast cake." Maisie states, holding the chocolate gateaux out in front of her, the proudest grin plastered over her tanned face. She places it carefully onto the kitchen island before tiptoeing over to you and holding her hand to her face in a whispering motion. "But I am extremely sorry I couldn't stop Auntie Rachel from turning it into The Vegan Demon."

You blurt out a deep throaty laugh, pulling your daughter in for a hug.

"I don't mind, Moo Bear," You say into her hair, still laughing. "The Vegan Demon always seems to find its way into our food."

"And that's because you never eat it without me!" A clear voice sings through the porch door.

"Auntie Rachel!" Maisie squeaks, sprinting over to your short best friend as she enters your Florida home. Rachel hugs your daughter quickly before walking over to hug you.

"Happy Birthday, friend." She says, smirking into your shoulder. "The Bi-"

"The Big 3-0, yeah, I get it friend." You interrupt, pushing the brunette away and looking at her hands. "So where's my present?"

Rachel looks ready to slap you, her jaw hanging below her neck, her big brown eyes wide open. "Honestly, Santana, I don't know how your daughter has such impeccable manners when yours are so horrendous."

"Oh please, Rachel, you have about as good manners as a penguin." You argue, ruffling your best friend's hair and turning back to the Vegan Demon cake. "I should know."

Rachel nods her head at you before rolling her eyes and joining you at the kitchen island. She sets about finding you all a fork and some plates whilst you sit contently watching your little girl teach Lali how to hand her her paw.

You are given your slice of cake and you hand Maisie hers. She sits on the kitchen floor sharing it with the dog which makes you smirk because if this was Rachel's kitchen, with Maisie feeding Rachel's cat, Trixie, the dwarf would be having a fit.

"Seriously though, San," Rachel's clear voice draws your attention back to the island. You find your best friend's eyes staring right at you. She smiles. "Happy Birthday,"

You smile back, not really sure what you want to say back to her.

Nine years ago today, you got a phone call that had lasted several hours and had consisted of giggle after giggle after giggle. That was before Maisie. Before Florida. Before everything changed.

Everything.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Rachel asks, her fork hovering in her mouth.

You smile sadly and she just knows.

The two of you got really close the year you both moved to New York. She was there alone and so were you and since your declaration of friendship to one another senior year, you kind of thought it was pointless being so stubborn with the girl. You'd moved in together, got jobs in the same bar, made friends with the same group of people and discovered New York City side by side. You remember calling Quinn one afternoon when you were living there and telling her how you couldn't imagine your life without Rachel Berry in it. Needless to say, the blonde had smirked at your changing ways.

Except why did the most important thing have to change?

You think about how you lived your three years of study at NYU. You think about the way it forced you to grow up and become more independent than you already were. You think about how it taught you life wasn't all about the money and the fame and the fancy cars and the expensive restaurants.

You think about how you spent night after night, morning after morning, day after day, talking with the one person you have ever really loved.

You think about Brittany.

You think about all the things she said to you over Skype, because that was the closest you could get to seeing her, and feeling her.

"You're my gorgeous baby girl, San."

"The whole damn day, I've just wanted to hear your voice, San."

"I love you, San."

It was the first time you learned that love is sometimes not enough.

You had lasted two months the first time you left each other. You'd never been apart that long before. You'd Skyped every single night and had texted throughout the day. Then she left you again to go back to Lima.

It was okay for the first six months. Maybe seven.

But on the eighth, you realised the whole long distance thing was hard. Harder than you ever could have imagined. It began to be painful instead of relieving every time you heard her voice or saw her face. And you knew it wasn't meant to be like that.

You saw her in the summer when you came back home and it was like nothing had changed.

But in your second year, the calls got less and less and she refused a visit from you, begging you not to waste your money on her. She began doubting your love, so you tried everything to change that. You sent her letters. You told her everything you loved about her. You sent her a picture every single day. You emailed Mr Schue to ask him to tell her how much you loved her. You even wrote a fucking poem.

You don't ever write poems.

You started thinking that she didn't want it anymore. That she didn't love you anymore. That she wanted someone else.

You knew that was never true.

And now here you are, nine years later, with a kid and a best friend in Rachel Fucking Berry. You think you might laugh if it wasn't so painful.

"Santana?"

Rachel's crispness strikes you again and you turn to see her with her arm stretched out.

"Your cake?"

You look down and see that you haven't even touched a slice. You are about to say sorry but Maisie butts in giving some babble to Rachel that it's your birthday, so you don't have to eat anything at all if you don't want to.

You love your daughter very much.

Rachel explains that she has a meeting with Dick, your boss, at ten, so you take your plates and empty them into the sink. Lali has your slice of cake. Rachel reprimands you for that but you just tell her it's your birthday and she soon shuts up.

"Why does Dick want to see you so early on a Saturday morning?" You ask the shorter brunette as she stumbles to your veranda door.

"Because, Santana, some of us don't have a birthday today, so it is our duty to be exactly where we need to be at any time of the day. Dick just so happens to need me at ten. I should be thankful it wasn't nine."

"The dolphins aren't even up at nine."

"Exactly. But that doesn't stop Dick from calling me up at the crack of dawn."

You giggle as Rachel steps on to your veranda, handing you a neatly wrapped box. You smile appreciatively and kiss her thank you. She kisses your temple and whispers a goodbye before hobbling to her car.

When you turn back into the house, Maisie jumps up at your leg and squeezes it tight. Lali follows her and snores a long whine as she settles on your other leg. You shake your head amusingly at them both because what would they do without you?

Lali suddenly jumps up, causing you to stumble backwards. She barks as a tall man in blue walks happily down the drive to your veranda. You smile wide as you spot him and Maisie releases her grip on her leg to sprint to his side.

He picks your daughter up when she reaches her and swings them both around, Lali barking at their feet. Maisie's giggles echo around your driveway, across your pool and towards the road. You're pretty sure she's waking the neighbourhood up.

"Maisie," You say, walking towards the pair, "You're going to wake everybody up. And you know how grumpy Mr Coleman gets if he's woken too early."

"Sorry, Mami." She apologises, wrapping her small arms around the man's shoulders.

He walks over to you, planting a kiss on your cheek, saying, "Happy Birthday, gorgeous."

You grin a little and push him away. "Don't even think about starting on me with the whole thirty thing. I've had enough of that from Rachel this morning."

The man laughs. "Trust," He says.

He hoicks Maisie further onto his hip as he pulls several cards and letters out of his satchel. He counts them expertly before handing them to you and smiling. You smile back because you never thought you'd make friends with the damn postman.

You've become so domestic.

And so single mom.

"Eight cards and one letter for you today, Lopez." He tells you, dropping your daughter to the floor and handing you the post. You thank him and he begins walking back down the path. "Make sure you call me for that drink sometime next week! Luce wants to wear this new dress out and so she asked me to ask you. You know what you girls are like!"

You snort at his explanation of his wife and wave him off, feeling a little better than you did this morning.

You sit down on one of the stools by the kitchen island and ask Maisie to go get her bathing suit on. The sound of her crashing up the stairs brings a smile to your face and you sigh in contentment.

You open Rachel's present: a sea salt shower scrub specially designed for those who spend their days in the water.

You roll you eyes. So Rachel Berry.

Your cards are nothing special. One from your parents with a voucher to get your hair done stuck in it; one from your friend's Jadie and Mac (parents from Maisie's school); one from Quinn and Puck with a picture of their new baby, Peggy. (You had teased them relentlessly at the fact they named their daughter after the Gypsy woman who told Puck his wife was already pregnant before the kid had even been conceived); one from Mrs Webber who lived across the street; one from Rachel with a fucking penguin on the front; one from Mr Schue and Miss Pillsbury and their three sons whose names you always forget; one from the gang at work and one that Rachel had obviously written, with a picture of another damn penguin on the front, 'signed' by the emperor penguin at the Marina you work at, Edward.

You shake your head at Rachel's ridiculousness. She never could understand your fascination with the creatures.

The letter stands by itself and as you pick it up, you can't help but feel how light it is. Yet when you go to open it, you pause, because something has never felt so heavy in all your life. You feel like you don't want to take the paper out because it says something you don't want to read.

You don't think you have ever opened something so slowly in all your life.

When you see the handwriting you just know.

You remember why you fell in love with penguins in the first place. They lost the ability to fly millions and millions of years ago and therefore had to learn a new way of moving from one place to another.

So they learnt to swim.

You remember how Rachel's friend, Juliana, from NYU was studying Biology as an extra class of interest and how you had both spent four hours watching clip after clip after clip of the funny little birds on YouTube, and how you had spent forever reading up on them after that.

You felt a sort of connection with the birds and you still can't explain why.

But when you look at that handwriting and when you see the way those dots are scribbled above those I's, you just know.

You know.

Penguin Fact Number 1, it reads.

There are 18 different types of penguin on this planet. 13 of these species are fading, whilst the other 5 could be extinct if we don't protect them.

Penguin Fact Number 2

Penguins leap in and out of the water when they are swimming. This is called 'porpoising'. Doing this creates friction, allowing them to swim faster, but some like to think they make their leaps out of sheer joy.

Penguin Fact Number 3

Penguin's eyes work much better underwater than they do out of it, which means they have better eyesight in dark and cloudy water than out in the open air.

Penguin Fact Number 4

The Emperor Penguin is the largest species and the Fairy Penguin is the smallest.

Penguin Fact Number 5

The Yellow-Eyed Penguin is probably the rarest penguin of them all.

Penguin Fact Number 6

Penguins are incredibly social animals and have the best hearing so that they can hear one another even in crowds of ten thousand or more.

Penguin Fact Number 7

Emperor Penguins incubate their chicks for two months during winter without eating whilst the female penguins are hunting out at sea. When they return and the chicks have hatched, they switch roles to make it fair on both sides.

Penguin Fact Number 8

Penguins can live up to twenty years. 75% of that time is spent at sea.

Penguin Fact Number 9

Penguins cannot fly; however, they are the fastest bird swimmers and deepest divers of them all.

I'm sorry I got lost at sea. But I'm on my way home now and I promise to feed you everything I have collected.

I'd really like you to teach me to swim.

Meet me where the ocean meets the sand at 9 tonight.

I promise I will be there.

...

You're still sat there when Maisie comes down half an hour later, dressed in her turquoise shell bathing suit. She has a rubber ring in her arms and half a million Barbie's strapped to her backpack. You don't have the mind to ask what for, you just sit there and stare at your daughter.

She's coming home.

She's actually coming home.

You blink.

How did she know?

You don't really have a clue how you are meant to react to this. You can't stop thinking that because you're thirty, she'll be thirty too. You can't stop thinking that because you have a daughter, she could have a daughter too. A son, even. Twins. Triplets.

Fuck.

You can't stop thinking how beautiful she's going to look when you see her standing on that damn beach, her hands in her short pockets, her long blonde hair flowing effortlessly down the length of her strong, unbreakable back.

The only girl you've ever loved.

You can almost hear her name falling off your lips as you walk steadily over to her, the evening sun catching her in ways your heart never thought anything could. You don't know whether she'll smile, or whether she'll frown, or whether she'll not even turn around.

But you're pretty sure you won't be able to take your eyes off of her.

"Mami?"

Shit.

"Gosh, sorry Moo Bear, what did you say?" You ask, resting your forehead in the palm of your hand and squinting your eyes together.

Maisie frowns at you. "Can we go swim now? Because I'm kinda worried that all my Barbie's will chicken out if I don't just go and chuck them in the water any minute now."

"Go ahead, Maisie, I'll meet you out there in a minute."

You listen for her pattering feet before you lift your head and groan into your hands.

This was your birthday for Christ's sake.

And that's when you remember it. That's when you remember the deal.

You grab the phone and dial Rachel's number. You listen to it ring and ring until it reaches voicemail. You want to smash something. You call Jadie and Mac instead but they don't answer their phones either. The last person you try is Mrs Webber's granddaughter but the kid is out partying tonight and can't look after Maisie for you.

You strangle out a cry and slam your fist onto the side table.

Why did everybody have to be out on your birthday?

The phone suddenly rings and you recognise the number as Rachel's.

"Berry." You answer, breathing heavily into the phone.

"Oh, hey High School Santana, nice to speak to you too, I'm having a lovely meeting with Dick, wondering whether you loved or simply adored my birthday present to you and thinking about what to cook you for di-"

"Woman!" You stop her, placing a palm to your head once more. "I need you."

"Santana, we've talked about this."

"God, Rachel, that's not what I meant," You say, exasperated. "I need you to babysit Maisie for me tonight."

"I know that it's Santana's birthday, but please, I don't know you and whatever the hell you've done with my best friend, I'd really like her back."

You hear the brunette mumble something to Dick and then laugh at something he must have whispered back.

"Rachel! This is not the time for fun and games. I'm still Santana, I'm still here and I still need you to babysit for me tonight."

Rachel sighs into the phone. "But, San, what about me cooking you dinner and me making you feel special on your special day?"

You want to cry because you know how much Rachel enjoys it when she can take care of you. "I know, Rach, I know. But something came up." You pause, wondering whether you should explain. "I got a letter this morning from well... yeah, and I just... I just need to see if it's real."

"San..."

"Please, Rachel. I never ask for anything else from you."

"That's not tr-"

"Rachel!"

There is silence on the other end of the line and you can just feel Rachel biting her bottom lip. You grunt out a sigh to get her to hurry up and you even end up tapping your foot.

"Mami!"

"Just a minute Moo Bear!" You call back out to her. That seems to make Rachel's mind up.

"Sure, San." She says softly. "What time would you like me?"

...

You've been staring at your closet for the past forty-five minutes. It's not that you don't know what to wear or you don't know what shoes to take. You just haven't opened this certain closet in your spare room since the day you moved in eight years ago.

And it's because of the damn box that's in there.

You don't know whether you should look through it because it might make you chicken out of seeing her. Of going.

But a part of you wants to – needs to – because it's her and you're still in love with her.

Every single part of her.

You reach for the door knob on the closet but pause when your hand touches the cold wood. You're still not sure if this is a good idea. It feels foreign in your fingers – like you shouldn't be touching it. But at the same time it seems familiar. Like it's been waiting for you forever.

Maybe it has.

You pull it open and you jump slightly at the stiff noise it makes as it jerks back. You close your eyes to calm yourself down before opening them back up.

It's so dark.

You take a deep breath in and move forward. Your eyes find the blue box straight away. It's there and it's solid, filling your senses with memories and flashbacks and repeats of everything you ever wanted to forget.

You find yourself a half hour later sat on your knees, letters and photographs, emails and Skype conversations, bracelets and cards scattered all around you.

It feels kind of magical.

You begin reading through some of the conversations you had over Skype but you get to one of her messages that reads,

I can't explain why, but you are the only person I have ever felt this way about.

And you just want to cry.

You clumsily shove everything back into the box and curl yourself up on the floor in a foetal position. You know you shouldn't be this pathetic because they are just memories – they shouldn't mean as much as they do.

But they do mean that much.

They do.

And you can do nothing about that.

There is a knock at the door and you pull yourself together, sitting upright and wiping at your eyes. You welcome them in and smile when you see Rachel's face peep around the door frame.

"Hey, friend."

"Hello, San."

She sits beside you and notices the klutzy way you have shoved the box back into place. You hear her sigh and the cold air that she releases falls onto your arms and gives you goose bumps.

"Dick told me this morning that the ticket sales for the dolphin musical has gone up by 20% since the last promotion." She drops her head onto your shoulder. "He's asked if I can hurry up and get the Dolphin Experience Music recorded already."

She breaths a laugh and you smile with her.

"You're not singing in dolphin, right?" You ask, because the image of hearing Rachel's dolphin imitations blasting out the park speakers as the visitors stroll around makes you want to pass out with embarrassment.

"No, Santana." She says, slapping playfully at your arm. "Dick's got this guy to write a couple songs about freedom and adventure and he wants me to record them to sell at the gift shop."

"That's cool I guess."

Rachel links her arm around yours and sighs again. "How's Edward?"

You snort at the mention of your favourite Emperor penguin. "He's good. Ever in love with Brittany."

Rachel stiffens at the name and you release a sigh. There is silence whilst you both try to gather your thoughts.

"You're such a dumbass for naming a penguin after your best friend." Rachel jokes, snuggling closer to you.

"I don't recall naming any penguin 'Berry'." You smirk.

Rachel slaps your arm again and giggles. "You know what I meant."

"Yeah," You say, because you don't know what else to do.

Or say.

You glance at the time and realise you've got ten minutes until it's time. Until the big hand reaches the twelve and the little hand reaches the nine.

Until you see her.

"San, it'll be okay, you know?" Rachel says, burying her face into your shoulder.

"I know, Rach, I know."

"You better go."

You check your watch again, even though you know exactly what time it is and lift yourself up of the floor. You both dust yourselves off and head out of the spare room. Before making your way downstairs, you creep into Maisie's room and land a peck on her left temple.

"Love you, Moo Bear."

She mumbles in response.

Rachel gives you a hug at the door to your veranda and you want to laugh because you're only walking across your garden to the beach.

She tries not to let her nerves show through but you can tell by the way she purses her lips together and tells you to get a move on, that's she's fucking shaking in her Mary-Jane's.

You try not to shake as you pad softly towards the sand. You haven't seen this girl for nine years. Nearly ten. You don't want things to be different, but at the same time you want everything to have changed.

The branches to the palm trees swing low across your path and it's only then that you wonder how she knew you were here.

You brush them out of the way, squinting at the way the sunlight rakes through the spindly leaves. It's nearly sunset and you can't help but think that she chose this time purposely.

You're not even sure whether you want her to have done or not.

You watch your feet as they press through the delicate grains of sand, one by one, pad by pad, heel to toe, heel to toe – a gentle rhythm for a pounding heart.

You see her when you look up.

It's just like how you imagined. But at the same time, it's completely different.

Completely different.

She's changed.

Her hair is longer and her face is darker – like she's been living in the sunlight forever. It confuses you because she was always about the snow and the cold and the dark. Now she's all light and shiny and incredibly beautiful.

She's wearing a long flowing white maxi dress and because you're dressed in your white chinos and your white tee-shirt, you kind of feel like this is a wedding. You're all dressed in white walking towards this person who you want to share the rest of your life with, except she's the bride and you're the groom.

At least that's what it looks like now.

It always felt the other way round before.

Maybe things have really changed.

She doesn't turn around as she stares out to sea and you wonder whether it is actually her or somebody innocently watching the sunset.

But who would be waiting for her if it wasn't, well,

"Brittany?"

You meant it to come out as a sort of statement. But it kinda slipped out like a question.

She turns around and before you can say anything else, she's straight in with her explanation.

"We made a deal." She begins, looking straight into your eyes. You think you're going to pass out from the intensity of them. "We made a deal," She repeats, "And I'm not about to go and break my side of it when you've spent so long keeping your end together."

You swallow. You really have no idea what else to do.

"I promised you that I would be with you on every single one of your birthdays for the rest of your life. In return, you promised that if for some reason I couldn't, you wouldn't come looking for me because I needed you to find yourself."

You swallow again but this time you manage a nod. You want to pat yourself on the back for one, not lunging at her with your Snixxx Wrath and two, not lunging at her to kiss those lips silly.

"And you did," She continues, folding her arms to protect herself from the wind. "You did, San, you did. You found yourself and I'm so proud of you."

You want to yell at her. You want to remind her how she fucking hurt you and how she made you feel like shit for the last nine years.

But you can't.

You can't because it's her. And you're totally in love with her.

There's a silence and you think it's because she knows. She knows how you are feeling.

"Can we just catch up?" She asks, indicating to sit down on the sand beneath us.

You follow her lead but don't look at her. Instead, you keep your gaze focussed on the horizon. At least things always seem to look so far away from there.

"Would you rather I went first, or you?" She asks tentatively and you realise she's walking on eggshells around you. You don't want her to feel like that.

"No, you," You manage to choke out. "You go first."

She smiles tightly, and in a straight line, before exhaling heavily.

Even the sound of that is beautiful.

"Okay," She begins. "So I graduated from college when I was twenty-two, I moved back home to live with my parents whilst I looked for a job. There was nothing and I did nothing for about two years. My parents ended up getting frustrated with me and told me they'd send me to England if I didn't try harder. I just remember thinking how much harder it would be then to get to you if they ever did that. But turns out they didn't have to; I went anyway. Apparently, recipes don't actually confuse me and London offered me this awesome culinary arts apprenticeship and that was it."

She pauses to check your face but you're so engrossed in wondering whether or not you actually want to hear her story that you don't have the time to worry about the burn spreading across your cheeks.

"I flew to London," She continues, "I got really good at pastry baking and inventing desserts and I guess it just took off from there. I met this guy, Harry, and he taught me everything I know, everything I ever wanted to know, you know, he was like this genius, this proper unicorn that just came into my life at just the right time-"

"Okay, Brittany, stop." You snap, not only surprising the blonde, but yourself. You sigh because it's a relief to hear her stop talking about anything other than what she's actually here for. "If I'm honest? Right now, I just wanna hear about why? Why did you stop talking to me? Why did you leave me? Why were you never there on my birthday for the last nine years?"

Brittany looks at you with those familiar puppy eyes and you just want to cry.

"And please," You whisper, stealing a glance at her ring finger. "Please just let me out of my misery and tell me why you're here."

Now she looks surprised.

"San, it's your birthday."

"It's been my birthday every year."

"You're turning thirty."

"Is that really why?"

You narrow your eyes because this isn't going how you wanted it to go. You never wanted to get angry with her.

"Santana, I've got here today because I only just found you." She looks to the sand and wiggles her toes in it. "I've been looking for nine years."

"Brittany," You whisper, looking at her pleadingly. "Brittany, please." You look to the floor and realise tears are pricking your eyes. "You knew where I was. All that time I was at NYU, you knew exactly where I was."

"I know." She says, fiddling with her fingers. "I know."

"Why did you not think I was serious? Why were you so convinced that being so far away from you meant I wasn't feeling everything I was feeling before?" You shake your head as you look at her. "Brittany, my feelings for you could never change. Whether I'm four years old and I just met you in the sand pit, or whether I'm ninety-nine, and I finally meet you again at death's door. You have always been this one constant thing in my life and it fucking hurt when you gave up. I still love you, Brittany. I could be happily married and have three or four kids in my beach home back there. But I'd still love you. I'd still want you. And I know that because you are the first person I've ever loved – and you never forget your first love."

You wonder where all this came from because you swear to god, you are not a sentimental person at all.

"Would you accept it if I told you that the reason I never spoke to you again was because I was so convinced once you saw what was out here in this world, that you wouldn't even give me a second look?" Brittany asks, still picking at the sand.

You study her face. She looks pained and you know she's telling the truth. And you just think that now... you can really show her just how much you love her.

"No, I wouldn't." You say, moving a little closer to her. "Because you should never doubt me."

There is a silence as you both stare at the sand below you. The waves slip lightly around you and you can hear the late night barks of dogs being let out before bedtime. You glance back up at the fingers and bite your lip.

"I just want to know one thing," You say, still glaring at her ring finger. "Is that a wedding ring?"

She looks sharply at her fingers and lets out a peculiar laugh. "Gosh, no!" She breathes, stretching her left hand out. "No way, no, not at all. This is just the only finger it can fit on and besides... I like to trick myself that I'm married to you."

You smile to yourself, not really sure how to take that.

"I'm not stalking you by the way."

You look up and frown at her.

"Mom was at the hospital when Quinn gave birth and they got chatting. Quinn gave a lot of information and Mom passed it on to me. I don't think I've ever been so relieved in all my life." Brittany smiles to herself. You smile too.

"I'm not going to pretend this doesn't hurt," You whisper gently, "But I'm so fucking glad she did."

Brittany giggles at you before telling you off for cursing. "San, you have a kid now, no more bad words."

You look up at her and frown again. How did she know about Maisie?

You go to ask her but she cuts in.

"Quinn."

You nod your head in understanding.

"How?" She asks timidly.

You sigh. You knew this would eventually come up. "If I told you it happened in my last year of university with some guy who was determined he could straighten me out after moping about you, would you think it terrible?"

"Did you let him?"

You crinkle your eyebrows. You hadn't expected that. "I was kinda pissed, yeah."

Brittany sighs and closes her eyes.

"But I love her, Brittany." You say, "Very much. She's my life changer and she's my escape. I couldn't have got through your absence without my daughter."

Brittany's eyes twist in guilt. "I'm so sorry."

You bite your lip.

"I'm so sorry that I'm so late. But I promise you, San, that I tried so hard, every day, to get back to you. By the time I'd finished college, I packed my car up to go to New York but you'd gone and I had no idea where. I kept trying to call your cell but you'd changed your number. You deleted your Facebook account and you were never on Skype. I had no idea what to do." She wipes her eyes carefully before carrying on. "I went through phone book after phone book trying to find you. Every day, San. I met people, I did. But I would be with them and it wouldn't be like being with you. I just wanted you. I still just want you. After all this time – seven boyfriends and four restaurants later, I still just want you. You and your penguins. I want you to teach me how to swim. I've finally found you and I'm not letting you go. Even if you do need to go catch some fish."

You laugh because you can't imagine leaving her now that she's here.

"If you promise to meet my Emperor chicken, Edward, I promise to stay right here with you."

She leans forward to hug you and you hug her right back.

"No, San, no more deals. I just want to be with you, okay?"

"Okay, Britt." You say, wondering how this night has turned out totally different to how you ever imagined it to be. "Just you and me."

"For as long as we can go." She holds you tighter, making excitement bubble in your heart. "You're my little Yellow-Eyed Penguin."