Hello everyone! This is probably gong to be my last update of 2009! This year sure has been a BIG one for me and I hope it's memorable for all of you. There's going to be one more chapter of this (I'm super nervous about it by the way, more so than any other chapter of this story) and then that's it! I hope everyone has a fantastic and safe New Year's Eve. Enjoy!

College is fairly uneventful my first semester. People don't know me out here so they're more inclined to talk to me (they don't know I'm a girl who got pregnant at 16 and effectively fucked up numerous lives because of my extended belly) but I wouldn't say I've made friends. I spent the last two years content (not really) without anyone to call a friend that I suppose I'm just used to it.

I sit in the airport three days before Christmas (the winters out here are so unusual. I'm used to white Christmases not winters that have peeks of 68 degrees), legs crossed and hair thrown up in a messy ponytail. I shift in my seat uncomfortably (I don't know why I insisted on getting to the airport nearly four hours early) and flip through the glossy magazine in my hands. When I finish the (third) magazine I bought for the flight, I lift my head and look around the crowded airport.

For a second, I honestly don't think it's him. He's supposed to be a bunch of cities away from here. I think about picking up one of my magazines and burying my head in it so he won't see me but somehow his name falls from my lips. "Puck."

He turns on his heel, duffle bag slung over his shoulder. His mohawk's gone, his head shaven now. He looks tanner and I suppose I'm tanner too (we get a lot of sun in California compared to Ohio).

He searches me out, not sure where the voice came from and I sit still in my seat, face hesitant to draw attention to myself. But his eyes eventually lock on me and he surprises me: he smiles.

I haven't talked to him since graduation. Actually, we didn't even really talk at graduation; my parents dragged me off before I had time to say something more than "Hi".

He walks over to me, sets his bag down in the seat beside me and asks me how I've been. I shrug. "Just busy with school… you headed home?"

He nods, runs a hand over his head.

We end up talking until the plane starts boarding and I really don't think anything of this. We're just two old friends who happened to run in to each other on our way home.

It's not till years down the line that I realize it was the start of everything.

I'm at my parents' house, surrounded by my family when my mom asks me about the smile on my face. "I've just been running into old friends left and right. It's nice seeing everyone again." My smile softens and I take a tray of rolls out of the oven.

It's the truth. I've been here for almost 4 days now and have run into a lot of the glee kids. I went shopping with Kurt and had lunch with Rachel and Finn (against my will). And then of course there's been Puck…

My father walks into the kitchen with heavy feet. "Quinn?" I face my dad and he looks at me with concerned eyes. "There's a boy for you at the door." He says the words 'boy' and 'you' with distrust. Neither of my parents trust me around the opposite sex anymore.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise as I nod, tossing the oven mitts on to the counter. I grab my new coat (it's a tan wool trench that will become useless when I get back to California) and slip it on before I open the door.

He's sitting on the old wooden swing that's been on my family's porch for as long as I can remember. "I'm surprised you'd even think of stepping on to my parents' porch," I say teasingly, my breath visible in the freezing morning air.

He shrugs with a small smile and I hope he knows how lucky he is that my parents never found out the truth. "Merry Christmas," he says, standing up with open arms.

I hug him without a second thought. "Happy Hanukkah," I return and we break apart. "What brings you over here so early?"

He sits back down then and starts to look nervous. "My mom sent me out for coffee this morning… and I'll never know why this little girl was out so early on Christmas morning with her dad…" He stops and lets out a heavy breath before looking down at his red hands. "She looked like us," he says quietly and I have to sit down next to him then. My face sort of falls and my knees weaken as I shake my head.

"That's… that's not possible," I say slowly and I'm so consumed by what Puck just said that I forget about being careful around him (I'm only careful because I know my parents are watching from the window). "They lived towns away…" I look down at my hands and pretend I'm calculating how old she is even though I could never forget her age. "And she's still so small… there's no way…"

He shakes his head. "She was small but she looked like us. She had your nose and my eyes and…" He turns his head and looks out at the snow filled neighborhood around us. "I know it's crazy to think that she was ours but fuck Quinn." He runs his hands tiredly over his head and it's so unbelievably quiet between us. He finally looks up at me and nods almost unnoticeably. "Thank you."

I let out a strangled laugh through my tear filled eyes. "What for?"

"I was always still kinda mad at you that I never got the chance to see her. Even though you said it was so hard, I still wanted to ya know?" I nod and he looks back down at his hands, squeezing them together to try and warm them up. "But seeing that little girl… it was almost easier wondering."

I wonder if anyone else has ever really seen or experienced this; the exact moment where you see a boy turn into a man.

I smile sadly at him and then throw my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. I leave a chaste kiss on his cheek before I realize something. I think I love Puck.

Not necessarily the 'Oh-my-gosh-I-want-to-be-with-you-forever-Romeo-and-Juliet-love-story' and all that crap kinda love, but its there. I may not ever be in a relationship with him, it may never go past what we shared those two nights in high school and whatever the hell went on between us sophomore year (I'm not sure either of us will ever know how to describe what that was), but that's okay. Because no matter what, I think I'll love Noah Puckerman. He gave me my daughter and always knows the right things to do and say (more so now since he's less of an immature asshole) and has somehow managed to look at me like I didn't ruin his life once upon a time (something I'm not sure my parents will ever accomplish).

When we pull apart I ask what his plans are for the rest of the day. "I'm just going to be hanging out until later tonight when we light the fifth candle on the menorah. We do all our traditions at night." I nod and glance back at the house where my mother's eyes widen and she drops the red curtain she'd pulled back in order to spy on me.

"Did you want to stay for our lunch? We always make a whole bunch of food," I offer and I can tell by the way his jaw settles that he doesn't think it's a good idea. "I'd really like it if you did. It's just my sister and her family, my parents, and me. I could really use someone in my corner." I smile softly and it seems to do the trick because he nods.

As I walk into the house with Puck trailing behind me, my mother sticks her head out from the kitchen. "Quinn, can I speak to you for a minute?" I nod my blonde head and tell Puck that he can put his jacket on one of the free hooks by the door.

I walk into the kitchen to find that my sister isn't helping like she was earlier. Instead she's nowhere to be seen. "I hope its okay that I invited Noah for dinner," I say wearily as my mother pours herself a glass of red wine.

She shakes her head, the clip keeping her French twist in place shining in the kitchen light. "He's not welcome here."

"Why not," I pout, going over to the stove and stirring the pot of mashed potatoes. "We have more than enough food…"

"You know why he's not allowed here Quinn," she says, her voice low before she takes a sip of her wine.

"No, I don't Mom. Would you care to enlighten me?" When I turn around she's right in front of me, wine glass clutched tightly in her hand. Her other hand grabs my arm tightly and for the first time in my life, I think I'm afraid of my mother.

"Did you think that your dirty little secret wouldn't escape the walls of McKinley High?" Her blue eyes search mine and I swallow hard. I open my mouth to respond but nothing comes out. "Your father may not know the truth, I wouldn't let you break his heart again, but I do. And I will not let that boy sit at our dinner table on Christmas of all days. He is not allowed in this house."

Someone clears their throat from the doorway and we both look over to see my father with his arm around Puck's shoulder. My mom drops my arm out of shock and neither of us can stop our jaws from hanging open. "Quinnie, why did you never introduce me to this boy," my father asks, patting Puck on the shoulder before walking into the kitchen. "He definitely knows his football." My dad's grinning and I don't think he chose to see my mom's hand on me when they were in the doorway. He starts sniffing around the stove and my mom tries to shoo him away and I pick this moment to escape the tensest conversation I've ever had with my mother.

I grab Puck's arm and pull him into the hallway. "Are you okay," he asks, looking down at my arm where the redness is fading. I nod and then tell him that my mother knows. I look up and see his confused face. It takes a second but then his face relaxes and his eyebrows shoot up in alarm. "I don't think I should be here then."

I shake my head. "My dad doesn't know though, and much to everyone's surprise, he loves you."

He laughs. "Dads never like me."

"Maybe you've never given dads a reason to like you before," I say playfully, arching my eyebrow in question. He doesn't look amused and I put my hand on his shoulder softly. "Look, this won't be that bad. But if you want to go then you should." He sighs and rubs his hand on the back of his neck.

"Can I bail if things get really awkward?" I smile and nod.

I sit with my back against the wooden headboard, book open flat in my lap. I push my reading glasses higher on the bridge of my nose, only to have them slip a little once again. I let out an aggravated sigh and then shut the book. "It's not fair," I say to no one in particular. "They print everything in the smallest size possible and then don't include vision at the health center on campus. College ruins eyes, the least they could do is throw in a good optometrist." I take the black framed glasses off my face and toss them on top of the closed book.

"You look hot with your glasses, stop complaining." I look up and see Noah come in from the adjoining bathroom. I smile softly and scoot closer to my edge of the small bed.

We're crammed into his childhood bedroom on Christmas Eve a few years down the line. After this break, we have one last semester and then that's it. We're done with school and the two hours separating us for the better part of the week. He sits down and I roll inward with his added weight but it works out for the best. The bed is supposedly a full but somehow we both either end up nearly falling off or on top of each other.

He doesn't really complain about the latter.

"So, what kind of family discomfort do you think we can look forward to tomorrow," he asks as I settle my head on his chest.

I sigh. "Well, last year when my mom blew up and told everyone at the table in the middle of prayer that you were the one who ruined me. She threw a bottle of wine at you and my dad almost threw you out. I honestly don't think we can top that kind of discomfort." He laughs softly and I find myself tracing invisible patterns on his white thermal shirt. "Actually, I can't believe my parents actually invited us back. Think maybe they forgot?"

He laughs again. "Fat chance. That's like my mom forgetting you're not Jewish." I smile. I love Mrs. Puckerman with all my heart and she really is kind to me. It's just that every Christmas and Hanukkah she tries to get me to switch teams. "Tomorrow's definitely gonna be interesting though." I nod and then look up at him, my chin on his chest.

"Do I really look 'hot' with my glasses on," I ask innocently and he smiles.

"I've never seen you look more gorgeous."

I really didn't think we were going to be able to top what happened last year.

I was clearly wrong.

My parents barely look at me and when they look at Noah they glare. But he's allowed in the house so I suppose it's a start.

I help my mom silently in the kitchen, talking to my sister more than my mother. The two of us are in the middle of laughing about my sister's latest pregnancy craving when the blonde woman who birthed us interrupts. "Did you have to bring him back here?"

I pour dressing over the salad and begin mixing it as I look my mother straight in the eye. "Yes mother. I'm dating him. What was I going to say? Stay at your mothers?"

"That's another thing," she says, pushing back a stray hair that's fallen from her perfect up do. "You stay with him when you visit now. What about us Quinn? What about God?"

I know what she's implying.

My shoulders droop and my sister makes up an excuse about hearing Dad call her. "Yes I stay with him because his family doesn't make me feel like I should still be ashamed of myself. And they don't hate me because I got pregnant at 16." My mother's mouth opens then and I put my hand up to stop her. "Don't. Just because you refuse to accept it doesn't mean it didn't happen. I made a mistake. I was 16 and I had sex and I got pregnant and I had a beautiful baby girl. God forgave me and you say that you have but you haven't. And you probably never will and I've come to accept that. But here I am, 22 years old and you still assume that I'll make that mistake again. That just because I stay over at Noah's, we're having sex. Well, news flash Mom, we're not."

I look back down at the salad, and continue to toss it. "So please, just let this whole mess go so we can actually enjoy Christmas this year."

I don't see her face, my blonde hair falling into my face and working like a curtain that I can hide behind. But I'm not the one hiding, she is.

She walks out of the kitchen and disappears until the timer for the turkey goes off.

My dad's not glaring anymore. As a matter of fact, he looks halfway pissed and halfway ecstatic. I'm not sure if I should be scared.

But then my dad stands up for a toast after our prayer (something he usually saves until we're almost done with our plates) and I know that something's up. He doesn't say much, just that he's glad we're all here despite everything (he looks at me when he says that) and that he loves us all very much. He looks at Noah and nods.

He pulls his hand out of mine when he stands up, pushing his chair away from the table. "So, um, I know that this has always been a very special day for you guys, which by the way, so sorry about ruining last year," he begins, and I twist the cloth napkin in my lap nervously. Where the hell was he going with this? "And I would just like to thank you all for welcoming me into your home despite everything." He swallows hard, wiping his sweaty hands on his slacks. I bring my hand up and slide it to his. He looks down and smiles. I give it a small squeeze and he glances over at my dad again, once more receiving a curt nod.

I arch an eyebrow and look up at my boyfriend (is it weird that I still get all warm inside when I say that?). "And I'm really glad that I could do this for Quinn in front of you all." My eyebrows scrunch together and then it happens. He drops my hand and scoots his chair further back and then gets down on one knee. "Quinn Fabray, I know that we've never really had it easy. We had a pretty rough start, if what we had could be considered a start of something. And it's been hard being with you but not getting to see you everyday and that's why I want to spend the rest of my life being with you." He clears his throat and I can barely comprehend it when he pulls the small black box out of his pocket and opens it in front of me. "I love you Quinn and I have since high school so would you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Never in all my years did I ever imagine my proposal to be like this. As a child, it was always elaborate (probably at a country club party or something) with a bunch of people there and dozens of flowers and a ring with a diamond the size of my fist. As I grew older it became more realistic but then after the baby, I stopped imagining. But now, here I am with my family, the family who took me back, on Christmas my final year of college and the boy I started a new family with is proposing to me. My hands start to shake and tears fill my eyes and I glance over at my father quickly.

He's smiling a small little smile and gosh, Noah's done everything right somehow. He's gotten my father's approval (which let's face it, after what happened last year is a Christmas miracle in itself) and he's done it in front of the people who mean the most to me (minus his mother and sister of course) and suddenly all those dreams I had as a kid seem stupid. Because this, this is perfect.

"Of course," I say like it's the most obvious thing in the world and I really can't stop myself from crying. My mother's probably upset because she really hasn't gotten past anything just yet but I don't care. I don't care that my father is happy despite himself or that my sister and her family think that this is sweet. All I care about right now is hugging the daylights out of Noah Puckerman and kissing him until my lips hurt.