You walk into your regular coffee shop. You remember why you had chosen to stay away from it when you first moved here from Kentucky. It reminded you of her. The little shop was tucked away from everything on the busy streets of New York City. It was a cheerful little place, and even when the workers were having a bad day they managed to brighten yours a little. After a few months in New York, you plucked up the courage to walk in and order something. Then the reason you avoided it became the reason you loved it.
The walls of the coffee shop were constantly filled with drawings from kids and adults. They ranged from crayons to charcoal. You came here to escape your everyday busy life. Recording in the studio had just gotten to you today. You wrote a song and it drained you. Of course it had everything to do with her.
It always angered your agent when you ran off. He never knew where you were when you came here. It was like a private getaway, and you enjoyed every minute of it. He'd yell at you every time you returned because you always escaped at the most inconvenient times, according to him. You stopped caring a long time ago. It was either running off for down time by yourself, or a rage-fest multiple times a week.
You thank the girl behind the counter and place a few coins in the tip jar. You walk slowly along the wall and admired the new drawings. They are filled with Santa hats, elves, and reindeer. When you get to your red, cushioned seat in the back corner, you sit down and pick up a nearby newspaper and flip through it, not really reading it at all.
The shop is usually quite empty at this time of night so when the bells above the door ring, you look up.
It's her.
She smiles as she walks into the shop. She's faced towards whoever is walking in behind her. It's a man. They're holding hands, and jealous lodges itself into you. You have a feeling it won't be leaving anytime soon.
They don't see you nestled into the back corner, but you definitely see them. You hide yourself behind the newspaper and watch as they order their drinks. He brings her to the couch near the window at the front of the shop.
She looks happy as she throws her head back in laughter. He gently wraps an arm around her and grins when he leans in to whisper something into her ear. She blushes and giggles at whatever he just said to her. The jealousy you've been feeling for the last seven minutes increases ten fold. You grip the newspaper so hard, it rips a bit near the middle. You play it safe and loosen your grip and watch as he answers the ringing phone in his suit pocket.
As he's arguing with whoever is on the other side, she gets up and walks to the wall filled with drawings. You see her softly smile at the one with the entire sleigh full of presents and Santa perched atop them with reins held in his gloved hands. It looks like a seven year old drew it, but it's cute. You keep staring and you can't help but wonder if she can feel your eyes on her.
He interrupts your train of thought when jogs over to her, kisses her cheek and mutters something about work. As he walks out of the shop, she walks back to couch and flops herself onto it. She looks crestfallen.
You have no idea what possesses you to do this, but you get up and walk straight towards her. She must be lost in her thoughts because she doesn't even look up when you get to her.
"Is this seat taken?" you ask. You're pointing towards the empty spot next to her.
"Santana?" she jumps up, startled. You immediately take two cautionary steps backwards. You think that maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Her eyes are wide and she's breathing hard.
You nod. You have no idea what to say. Maybe you should have thought this through.
"Do you, maybe, want to walk with me?" you ask timidly.
She nods and walks with you out the door. She brushes past you as you hold the door for her. And damn it, she still smells like honey after all this time.
You're not entirely sure what you're saying until it slips out of your mouth, "I miss you,"
She stops walking and looks to you. "I'm standing right here, Santana."
You're still not sure what's going on when you say, "Yeah. I know."
You want to tell her that you're a fool and how much you love her. You want to tell her how much you want her back in your arms. She's standing there rubbing her hands together because it's cold. That's when you see it. The ring. It's sitting there on her finger, a finger that happens to be on her left hand. You stare in shock, you lost track of how long. Neither of you say anything. She follows your line of sight, sees the ring and shoves her hands into her coat pockets. She looks anywhere but you.
"I waited, Santana. I waited and you never came back to me."
You're speechless.
"We've been together for a year."
You didn't ask. You remain silent.
"He proposed last week."
You didn't want to know.
After a few minutes of silence you finally manage to ask, "Are you happy?"
She looks to you and for the first time in your life, you have no idea what's going on in her head. You don't know and it scares you.
"Yes."
You may not be able to read her mind, but you still know when she's lying. There's a quiver in her voice. She may not be sad, but she's not happy. Not as happy as she should be. She wants you to believe that she is happy though.
"Congratulations, Brittany," you say with as much confidence as you can muster. You voice doesn't crack either as you say, "I'm happy for you,"
That one hurt to say. Your throat is burning and you're trying not to cry.
Her eyes flicker and you realize it hurt her to hear that. She wants you to do something. She wants you to fight for her. You almost do until what she said just minutes ago reverberates in your head. I waited, Santana.
So you manage one last weak smile and walk away. You think you hear her whisper, "Come back," You know it's probably just your head and heart messing with you. It wouldn't be the first time. You flip up the collar of your coat against the cold wind and turn a corner. That's when you let the tears fall. The wind picks up and it's so cold.
You whisper, "Come back," as she walks away. You pray she hears you. As her legs take her around the corner, you know she's gone and then the tears fall. A part of you wishes she fought for you and another scolds you for not fighting for her instead.