Santana's eyes are starting to go blurry. That's usually a warning sign that it's time to take a break. She's already ditched her contacts and switched to glasses, yet the words on the page are still getting difficult to read. She's been pouring over these files and books for what must be hours now, but at least she's making some progress, even if it is painstakingly slow progress. She's taken over one of the conference rooms, has her paperwork spread over half the table. This time on a Friday night at McCoy, Graham and Baker, everyone else has long since gone home, she's likely the only person left in the building apart from the security guard, but they're in court Monday, and no way is she leaving the office for the weekend without this being completed.
She's finally feeling like she's getting somewhere at this firm. Her billable hours are adding up, she has more than the other Junior Associates, and this is the first case that she's actually worked on with a senior partner and she isn't about to screw that up. She might not know Nathan Graham very well, but she knows his reputation. He isn't an easy man to impress, but she's determined to do just that. If that means having to put in some more hours, then she will, she'll work all weekend if she has to. Well, she will as long as Brittany doesn't get pissed at her for doing so.
She reaches for her bottle of water only to find it's empty. What she wouldn't give for some coffee right now, it might just wake her up enough so can she actually understand this sentence, as she's pretty sure she's read it six times and each time it only seems to make less sense.
"You're going to give yourself a migraine."
She jumps at the sound of Brittany's voice, wondering if she's starting to hallucinate. She thinks dehydration can do that. She looks up to find Brittany standing in the doorway, a worried expression on her face.
"I'm fine. What are you doing here?"
Brittany's carrying a takeout bag with her, containing what smells like Chinese. "We were supposed to be going out for dinner tonight."
It all comes back to her suddenly, promising Brittany that they'd spend some time together this weekend, that they'd reinstate date night since neither of them can remember the last time they went out. She's been working late a lot, and it hasn't helped Brittany has been having to work weekends at the studio, and so they really haven't seen that much of each other lately. "Shit, Brittany. Why didn't you say something when I said I was staying late again?"
"Because I get it, I know how important your work is to you. So I figured that if we can't go out to eat, then I'd bring dinner to you."
Her stomach is already growling at her, as if telling her she'd better not turn down the chance to feed it. "God, I fucking love you."
Brittany smiles, relief on her face. "I wasn't sure if you'd be mad. Me turning up at your office, uninvited." She enters the room, almost gliding over to the table, where she starts laying out the food at the opposite end from where Santana has all her work laid out.
"Be mad to see you?" Santana shakes her head. "Never. Though I am a little curious about how you managed to even get up here. You use your ninja skills or something to sneak in the building?"
"That's the bad news. I had to bribe that creepy security guard downstairs with half the Chow Mein Chicken for him to let me in."
She thinks maybe she should worry that's all it takes for a stranger to be allow past security. Maybe she needs to suggest the firm double check the guy's references. "Well as long as it was only the Chow Mein Chicken, I think it was worth it." She stands and walks over to join her.
As soon as she reaches her, Brittany automatically hands her a bottled water, then continues organizing the food. "I'm gonna start making you a packed lunch each morning. Then I don't have to worry about you not eating. And don't pretend to be too cool for that. I'd make awesome packed lunches."
"I know you would, Britt." She really does believe that, it's Brittany, even if she does suspect they may be a little unusual in content. She perches on the edge of the table, opens the bottle, and taking a long drink.
"And besides it'd be good practice for when I have to make school lunches."
She only just manages to avoid doing a spit-take. Last month when Brittany had made some casual remark about when they have kids, a comment that had resulted in her nearly having a full blown panic attack, and ever since then Brittany has taken great delight in bringing it up as often as she can, her eyes twinkling as she watches her reaction. She doubts Brittany will find it as much fun if one of these times she really does have a heart attack. Sure she does want to start a family with Brittany, but someday in the far, far distance future, once she's sorted her career out and knows she won't have to worry about keeping a roof over their heads, worry about having more than their two mouths to feed.
Brittany just shakes her head slightly, though she does give her a smile that means I love you but you're such a goober at times. "Anyway, you need to eat." Brittany pulls out one of the chairs and gestures for her to sit down.
They make short work of the takeout. Normally they talk their way through meals, but she's so hungry that she can't do anything except shovel food into her mouth. She's not even sure if she has eaten anything at all today. Maybe the whole packed lunch thing isn't a bad idea after all.
Most of the cartons are empty now, though Brittany hasn't had half as much as she has. "Do you want the last of the noodles?" She turns and finds Brittany staring at her. "What?"
"You're wearing your glasses."
"Yeah."
"You're so hot when you do that. I mean you're hot all the time, but you in glasses..." She's sure Brittany's eyes darken, and she feels a sudden need to get home. Or at least as far as the parking lot where she has a perfectly good car with a fairly large backseat.
Brittany apparently has other ideas though, as she's now sliding onto Santana's lap, straddling her, arms around her neck. "And you always have looked good in a suit."
"Not here, Britt. We can't." She knows it's dangerous having Brittany so close right now. This building is full of security cameras, and while she isn't sure of their exact locations, she does not want to be be called into her boss's office on Monday morning and asked to explain what exactly she is doing in this video tape.
"We've never done it in a conference room before." Brittany's eyes dart around the room. "And we still haven't crossed your desk off the list either."
Before she can tell Brittany that sadly that's something that won't be happening, someone clears their throat behind them. Brittany instantly turns a deep shade of red, and scrambles off her. She jumps to her feet as well, quickly turning around.
"Working late, Lopez?" Of all the people who could still have been in the building, it's just her luck that it would be Nathan Graham. So much for wanting to impress him with her work performance.
Brittany grabs her purse and makes a bolt for the door. "I should go." She stops long enough to shoot her an apologetic look, then practically flees down the corridor.
"Friend of yours?"
"Not at this particular moment she's not." She glares at Brittany's retreating form. She's the one that starts this whole thing then abandons her to deal with the fallout? She definitely owes her for this.
"Women, they get you in trouble then they run for the hills. That's a familiar scenario." She would have expected him to be angry, but he just looks amused at the situation. He strolls over to the far end of the table, looking over what she'd been working on. "You've done a good job with this, really good."
She takes a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding. Maybe he isn't going to fire her after all
"But seriously, it's Friday night and you're still here when you have a woman who looks like that waiting for you at home? That's the kind of thing that makes me question your sanity a little."
He must notice she hasn't moved since he walked in. "Relax. I've caught plenty of Junior Associates in much more compromising positions over the years. This isn't even a blip on my radar. You might be surprised to know that I do remember what it's like to be young and in love. When you're in a new relationship and just can't keep your hands off each other, I say make the most of it. That stage never lasts."
People have been telling her that since high school, but she still wants Brittany as much now as she did back then, maybe more, and she can't imagine that ever changing.
"So how long have you been seeing Blondie?"
She hates when people ask her that question. She and Brittany never have been able to decide on what date they officially got together. "Brittany. Her name's Brittany. And must be eight years now." It feels like longer, and it's times like this that she knows Brittany is right when she always insists that they've been together forever.
"Eight years? Seriously?" He's giving her an incredulous look. "And not only does she not get pissed at you for working late, but she actually brings you food? Wow."
"Yeah." She finds she can't stop herself from smiling. "I'm kinda the luckiest woman on the planet."
"I'm starting to see that. Can I give you some advice though?"
"Don't ever have sex in the conference room?"
He laughs. "Yeah, but I think you already figured that one out for yourself. I've screwed up a lot of relationships, with a lot of women. And at least half of the time it was because I put my career before them. You're ambitious, that much is obvious, but you need to find a balance. Don't get me wrong, I respect people who are willing to put in the hours, but I respect even more those that know where to draw the line, that know when it's necessary to be here, and when they're just staying at the office late for the sake of it or to suck up to the Senior Partners."
"Is that a hint that I should go home?"
"Your prep work has been flawless. We really can't be any more ready for this trial, so yes, go home, spend the weekend with your girl, and I'll see you here bright and early Monday morning." He stands and starts to walk towards the door, but then stops and turns back to her. "Listen, Tom McCoy is hosting one of his infamous parties next week."
Thomas McCoy is another Senior Partner in the firm, or at least his name is over the door, nobody she's spoken to has ever seen him, and the office rumor-mill insists that he died years ago, the firm keeping it a secret so they could continue to use his name.
"They're an important opportunity to impress clients, make connections. I want you to come, you and Brittany."
She can only nod. She knows that getting an invitation to a social event like this must mean she's doing something right.
"Okay, now go, get out of here. Although I suggest you might want to tidy up the place before you do." He offers her a small smile and then is gone.
Once she's returned the room to the state that she found it in, she grabs her things and heads down to the parking lot. When she gets to her car, she finds Brittany sitting on the hood, waiting for her. She can tell she's been crying and she looks about ready to start again.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That guy was your boss, wasn't he? And I screwed everything up, got you in trouble and then just ran out on you. What kind of girlfriend does that? I just..."
Santana closes the distance between them, and pulls her in for a kiss, cutting off whatever she'd been about to say. Brittany is still for a moment, but when she runs her tongue along her bottom lip, she feels her respond, kissing her back slow and deep.
When they break apart, Santana just pulls her into a hug. "I love you. And if I ever start taking you for granted, or neglecting you in any way, you need to tell me. Because sometimes I can be really dense and not notice I'm doing these things, and I need you to point that kind of stuff out to me, to make sure I don't screw this up. Because I can't screw this up, Britt, I just can't."
Brittany looks a little shocked that she isn't mad at her for abandoning her. "San, what exactly happened in there?"
"Nothing. He just pointed out how incredibly lucky I am to have you, and told me that I need to go home and thank you for that."
"Really?"
"Pretty much, yeah. Now any suggestions on just how I can thank you?"
Brittany pulling her in for another kiss pretty much answers that question for her.
"You're nervous."
Of course Santana's nervous. Nathan Graham has made it very clear that this little soiree of the firm's is a very big deal. So yeah, she's feeling more than a little pressure to make a good impression tonight. Her natural reaction to someone stating the obvious like that is to deliver a sarcastic reply, but it's Brittany so she holds back. She slowly finishes applying her lipstick, keeping her eyes on her own reflection in their bedroom mirror. "And you're..." The second her gaze falls on her girlfriend's reflection though, the words die in her throat. She spins around, her eyes running the length of Brittany's body. "Stunning." Now she's the one that's stating the obvious. The dress is that shade of royal blue that always somehow manages to make Brittany's eyes sparkle even more than usual. It also very clearly fits in all the right places, and Santana's suddenly not sure if they're going to even make it out the front door. She bites down on her bottom lip slightly, gripping the edge of dressing room table with both hands in an attempt to stop her body from walking across the room and just kissing Brittany and never stopping.
"Do you like it?" Brittany twirls on the spot and Santana can only nod in appreciation.
"Blue is definitely your color." Santana curses herself for doing it again, but when Brittany's standing there looking just that good, well, she finds it difficult to even think, let alone be her usual witty conversationalist.
Brittany is slowly drifting over to her, though Santana doesn't think it's something she's doing consciously, and she knows she won't be able to keep from having to touch her for much longer. "The dress cost a little more than I'd have liked but I know how much tonight means to you and..."
As soon as she's within reach, Santana cuts her off by crashing her lips against hers.
No-one will notice if they're a little late, right?
"It's huge."
"It's fucking huge."
They must have been sat in the car for at least five minutes, just gaping at the size of the house. No, actually, Santana's pretty sure it would be classed as a mansion.
"Did you know it was so huge?"
"Nope." She hadn't really given it much thought to be honest.
"They have valets." There's wonder in Brittany's voice and Santana follows her gaze over to where sure enough guys in red waistcoats are parking people's vehicles for them.
One of them is heading towards them and she's suddenly very conscious of the fact that her car is completely out of place amongst all the Mercedes and various sports cars that all the other guests seem to be driving. "We should have got a cab."
Brittany reaches across and places a hand on her knee, squeezing gently. "It'll be fine."
She waits for the snide comment from the valet when he opens her door for her, but it never comes. "Evening, Ma'am." He waits for her to climb out, then jogs over to the passenger door to let Brittany out. He's then sliding into the driver's seat and pulling away.
Santana glares after him. "He called me Ma'am."
"Maybe that's something you'll have to get used to. You're not as young as you used to be, San." When she turns her scowl onto Brittany, she just laughs and takes hold of her hand, tugging her towards the entrance. "Come on."
The place is even more impressive from the inside. She suddenly doesn't think mansion even does it justice. The front door leads onto a huge foyer. A grand staircase leads to the upper level, or levels she suspects. The rooms leading off the foyer seem to all be full of people. It reminds Santana of the benefits her parents used to drag her to when she was a child. God, she hated those things.
Brittany's grip on her hand seems to tighten, and she leans in to whisper in her ear. "Do you think we're like the only people here who aren't millionaires?"
Looking around at the rest of the guests, it's certainly a possibility.
"Is he a butler?" Brittany nods towards where an elderly man in a three piece suit is taking people's jackets as they enter.
"No idea." If she's honest, she isn't even sure what makes someone a butler. Something in the back of her mind tells her they need to be British, but she's sure that can't be right. Unfortunately they didn't bring coats with them so they don't get the chance to find out if he has an English accent, something Brittany seems to be a little disappointed about.
She's at a loss over where they're supposed to go, but she's saved by someone calling her name. She spots Nathan Graham making his way through the crowd towards them. "Hey, you made it."
"Well you made it sound like attendance wasn't optional."
"It isn't." He smiles, then turns to Brittany. "Hi. I don't believe we were properly introduced last time we met. Nathan Graham." He holds out a hand to her.
Brittany shakes his hand. "Hi."
"You both look amazing. Now let's get the two of you a drink, then there's some people I want to introduce you to."
The evening is going well. At least Santana thinks it's going well. So what if she can't remember the names of half the people that Nathan has introduced her to, and if maybe she has found herself out of her depth in more than a couple of conversations she's been included in, but she thinks she's doing okay. Brittany on the other hand, Brittany has been an instant hit. Everybody loves Brittany, and she hasn't even been near the dance floor yet, though Santana has noticed her look longingly at it more than once, noticed the way her feet keep moving, tapping out a rhythm to the music.
Eventually Nathan excuses himself from them, telling them to enjoy the party. She guesses he must have run out of people for her to meet, or maybe it's the red-head he's suddenly making a beeline for that has caught his attention.
The orchestra begins to play a tango, and Brittany's eyes find hers instantly.
She knows she doesn't even have to ask, but she does anyway. "Would you like to dance?"
Brittany just grabs her arm and pulls her towards the dance floor.
As usual she runs out of energy long before Brittany does. She just hasn't the stamina to keep up these days. She must be growing soft. Maybe she needs to start going to the gym more often, or take up some sort of sport. She seems to think that lawyers play racquetball, though she isn't a hundred percent sure on that. She makes a point to ask Nathan the next time she sees him.
Brittany however seems to have found a kindred spirit, a young guy whose boyfriend had looked ready to collapse around the same time Santana had. Now the two of them are stood on the sidelines while their partners dance what she thinks is a Samba.
She vaguely recognizes the boyfriend from the firm, he's maybe a third year associate, maybe fourth. He just rolls his eyes, gives her a knowing look. "Dancers, huh?" He disappears into the crowd, leaving her to watch Brittany. It's been far too long since she's had the chance to watch her dance like this, and she's happy to make the most of it. Ballroom dancing has never been Brittany's favorite, her girl much prefers more street based dances, but the way she glides across the floor right now, you'd never know.
"I don't think we've met." She turns to find herself facing an old, tall, silver haired man. "Thomas McCoy."
Well, so much for the theory that Thomas McCoy is dead. "Santana Lopez." She somehow manages to shake his hand, determined not to make a fool of herself in front of him. "I'm a junior associate at your firm."
"And you've already been invited into the inner circle?" He gestures around the room. "And which of my fellow partners do we have to thank for that?"
"Nathan Graham asked me to come, Sir."
"Shoulda known. Nate always did have an eye for talent."
She's not quite sure how to take that, so she says nothing. Her eyes are still on Brittany, and he must notice as he turns to watch her as well. "Your wife is one hell of a dancer."
"She certainly is, but she isn't my wife though."
"I'm surprised by that. You act like a married couple, so in tune with each other. You two remind me of me and my late wife."
"I'm sorry." She's not sure why she's apologizing, it just feels like something you do when someone tells you their wife is dead.
"Don't be. We had fifty years together, not all of them happy, but all of them worth it."
She doesn't like this, talking about death. If she lets herself think for even one minute about what she'd do if she ever lost Brittany, well she finds herself falling into a catatonic state.
"How long have you two been together?"
They've been asked this question a lot tonight, and the answer is usually followed with someone saying how cute they are or by asking why they aren't married if they've been together so long. For some reason it's that question that is really starting to bother her, though she isn't quite sure why. "Eight years."
"High school sweethearts?"
She nods, and waits for it.
"I hope you don't mind me asking, but why haven't you married her?"
All the other times that question has been asked tonight, she's left Brittany to answer it, who has always said they don't need a piece of paper. Something in her eyes though tells Santana that she doesn't really believe that. Now she has to answer for herself, she's not sure what to say. "It's just never been the right time."
That excuse is starting to wear thin, even to her. She should know by now that there will never be the perfect time, it doesn't exist, but yet she still waits.
"Can I give you some advice, Ms Lopez? Life is much too short to put things on hold forever. Don't learn that the hard way." He offers her a sad smile and then walks away from her, continuing working his way round the room.
Her eyes meet Brittany's and the blonde smiles at her. She feels faint all of a sudden and heads out onto the patio to get some fresh air. It's turned colder now, so she finds she's the only one outside. She walks over to the railing and leans against it. McCoy's words are getting to her. They've conjured images in her head of Brittany being injured, fighting for her life, and her being helpless to do anything about it. And the thought that this could all happen before she ever has the chance to call Brittany her wife, well that doesn't sit well with her.
She realizes that Nathan must have followed her out, as he's suddenly standing beside her. "Cigarette?" He holds out the packet to her, and she reaches for one, but then stops, her eyes drawn back towards the dance floor where Brittany and her new friend seem to have moved onto a Paso Doble, and she thinks better of it. "No, thank you."
He takes one himself, then places the carton down on the railing. "I told you to mingle. Not spend the evening dancing with your girlfriend."
The light teasing tone to his voice is the only thing that keeps her from biting his head off. "You've seen her dance. Can you blame me?"
"I have and I can't." He lights his cigarette and takes a long slow drag. "You sure you don't want one?"
She just shakes her head.
"I noticed McCoy talking to you. What was that all about?" She doesn't miss the suspicion in his voice, and she wonders what the story is with those two.
"He was asking about Britt, that's all. He wanted to know why we're not married. Why does everybody keep asking that?"
"These people are very big on traditional values. You're in love, you get married, you have kids. They don't understand anything else."
"So what, you're saying I have to marry her just to get everyone's approval? That only married people have a future at McCoy, Graham and Baker?"
"Oh please, if that was true, then I wouldn't be working there, would I? But it would soften your reputation. You can sometimes come across a little cold. And there's no denying you two are good together. Plus she's beautiful which doesn't hurt. All in all, she's good political currency."
People can say what they want about her, but once they start dragging Brittany into whatever this is, then, no, she won't stay quiet any longer. She rounds on him, satisfied when he takes a step back from her. "Now listen here, Alan Shore, if you think for one second that I'm going to marry that girl just because you and your creepy boss in there..."
"Hey, he's not my boss. We have equal seniority."
"Just because you two think it'd be good for my image? That I'd ever use her just to improve my reputation? That I'd say to her, hey Brittany, I want to marry you, but not because I love you and want to build a future with you, but because my boss thinks it'll help my career? Then you're either batshit crazy or you really don't know me at all."
He holds his hands up, moving away from her slightly. "Easy, I was only pointing out some of the benefits to having her as your wife. I didn't say they were reasons to propose to her."
Part of her wishes that they were, wishes she had some sort of sign that would convince her to finally do this.
"But for what it's worth, you should marry her, but not because of what it'd mean for you as a lawyer."
"Then why?"
"Because I've been married four times, and not once has any of them ever looked at me the way she looks at you."
She takes a moment to let that sink in, then just nods at him and leaves. As she walks back inside, Brittany intercepts her. "There you are. You okay?"
"Yeah."
Brittany's eyes narrow as her gaze drift through the patio doors to where Nathan is watching them. "Did he do something? Or try something? Or..."
"No. God, no."
"You'd tell me, right, if he did?"
"Yeah, course."
Brittany moves to stand between her and Nathan, giving him what for Brittany is quite an impressive death glare seeing as she hasn't had the practice that Santana has at perfecting that look. "I don't like him. He's creepy."
"He's alright."
Brittany doesn't look convinced so she leans up and presses her lips to hers, for once finding she doesn't care who's staring at them. She soon pulls away and tugs her towards the dance floor. "Come on, I think I've got some dancing left in me yet."
It's late when they get home. Far later than they had planned. . She had agreed to be the designated driver because she didn't want to risk becoming the weepy hysterical drunk girl in front of her co-workers, but she had only ended up regretting that. Being able to drink might have made the evening bearable. She knows she would never have gotten through it without starting a fight if it hadn't been for Brittany. It's only once they're back home and she realises that she doesn't have to carry Brittany up the stairs, that it hits her that Brittany hasn't been drinking either.
"Hey, you're sober."
Brittany's been humming some tune under her breath since they left the party. Now she dances across to her, standing behind her, placing her hands on Santana's hips and starts to sway her to the music that is obviously playing in her head.
"Didn't want to take the chance I'd end up stripping off in front of everyone. Figured I'd save that show just for you." Brittany places a kiss on her neck. She then takes hold of her hand and turns her into a spin, then her hands are around her waist and pulling her close. She still keeps them moving across the living room, carefully managing to dodge around the sofa and the coffee table without even looking.
Santana can't help shaking her head. "There's no music, B."
"I always hear music when I'm with you. You know that."
Maybe Brittany has been drinking after all "Babe, I'm sorry but I don't think my feet are going to take much more dancing tonight."
Brittany sighs but lets her go.
Santana lets herself collapse down onto the sofa, then quickly removes her shoes. "Stupid fucking high heeled shoes. What was I thinking?" She throws one across the room, it landing harmlessly a few feet away. The second one soon follows it.
"That you looked really hot in them?" Brittany flops down beside her, swinging her legs up onto the coffee table. She pats her thighs and Santana takes the hint and lifts her feet to rest them on her lap, moaning as Brittany starts massaging one of them.
"That could have been it." She twists so she can reach out and flick at Brittany's left foot. "That's why you wore flats, isn't it? You were totally planning on dancing me off my feet."
"No. That's not the reason."
She lies back, resting her hands behind her head, and allowing her eyes to fall closed. "Then what was?" When she doesn't get an answer, she half opens one eye, and with her free foot pokes gently at Brittany's side. "Britt? Then why?"
Brittany drops her left foot and grabs for the other before she can prod her with it again. "It's stupid."
"Tell me." She's aware she's whining, but hey, she's tired so she figures she's entitled to whine a little.
Brittany must think so too as she just sighs. "You know that I totally dig the height difference between us, I do. Except sometimes I don't. Sometimes I like feeling like I'm your equal, not some giant freak towering over you."
Santana opens both eyes now and sits up. "What?"
"Told you it was stupid."
"Giant freak? Brittany, you're aren't that much taller than me."
Brittany just shrugs.
"And anyway, I really like the height difference. I like that you're taller than me, that you're stronger than me. It comes in really useful for when you've got me pinned against a wall, that you can hold me up with only one arm while..."
She doesn't get to finish that sentence before Brittany's lips are on hers.
Later, when Brittany's brushing her teeth, Santana finds herself leaning in the bathroom doorway, watching her. "I want to thank you."
Brittany meets her gaze in the mirror, and speaks around her toothbrush. "For what?"
"For being so amazing tonight. I know these parties suck, but you put up with it all and remained totally awesome all evening. So thank you."
Brittany rinses her mouth, and then drops the toothbrush back into the holder. "Really? You do know I was terrified like all night long? I was so afraid that I was going to let you down, show you up somehow."
"Seriously? Like that could ever happen. Brittany, every single person there loved you. How could they not? You're like a goddess or something." She moves to stand behind Brittany, sliding her arms around her waist, her fingertips gazing against the bare skin of her hipbones under the band of the sweatpants. "And because of how amazing you are, I'm a better person when I'm around you. You always make me want to be the best version of myself that I can, so that I never disappoint you again." She pauses to take a breath. "So thank you. For tonight, and for every single day that you put up with me. And I promise that I'm going to try my hardest to make sure you never regret it."
"Santana, there's nothing you could do that would ever make me regret being with you. I love you." Brittany says those three words like they explain everything, and in a way they do.
Once Brittany has finally fallen asleep, Santana slips out of bed and makes her way down the hallway to the spare bedroom. She's had a safe fitted in there. A safe that she hasn't even told Brittany exists, let alone told her the combination. She opens it, searching around inside until she finds what she's looking for. Her fingers close around velvet and she pulls out the blue box. She's kept it all these years. She's been sneaking in here more and more lately to sit and stare at it, only to then lock it back away. In a way it makes a nice change that she has people telling her to marry Brittany, but oddly that has only made her not want to propose. Stupid reverse psychology.
She still believes that she'll get there eventually, but she's done doing things for her image. She snaps the box closed and returns it to the safe. And for that day when she is ready to ask her to marry her, then hey, at least she still has that damn ring.