"May I ask who is calling?"

"Santana," you state, standing in the middle of your bare living room. Your bare feet are cold on the wooden floor, but you're not concerned with that right this second.

"Santana who?" the man asks on the other end of the line.

You huff in frustration, "Santana. Just say Santana. How many Santanas can she know?"

You can hear him talking to someone with the phone away from her ear. It's a loud enough whisper for you to hear the person you're actually trying to reach ask who it is. The man tells her your name and soon you're eagerly greeted. "Santana! Long time no see."

"You better not be sleeping with that guy who answered your phone," you almost feel bad threatening her right off of the bat. But not really. This is her personal number. Random guys should not be answering it.

"Carter?" she asks like she's caught off balance, "Of course not. I didn't recognize this number and I have acquired a rather avid stalker." She seems elated about it and continues rambling, "Although it seems to be just Jacob Ben Israel, however the acquisition of a stalker makes me feel like I've made it-"

You rub the bridge of your nose and interrupt her, "I didn't call to talk about creepers with you Berry. I called to talk about Quinn."

"Is she okay?" the screech nearly deafens you in one ear. "Did she slip by the pool? I told her I didn't like her swimming while I was gon- while she was alone."

You sigh, "She told me okay? And she's fine. Physically anyway."

"Oh," Rachel's voice becomes quiet, "What would you like to discuss? Are you going to blackmail me?"

"How much do you actually talk to Quinn?" you ask her. It's more of a demand. You've been hanging out with Quinn for a while now and if Rachel doesn't know how close you and Quinn are now, they definitely don't communicate enough.

Rachel sighs and quietly answers, "Now isn't a great time."

"When is?" you ask, "Because we're having this talk if I have to call Jacob and ask him where you are and then track your ass down."

"I'll call you on my lunch break," she sounds defeated. You could care less. You're more pissed than you were before you actually got to talk to her.

"When if your lunch break and where are you?"

"I'm in Bridgeport for a photo shoot," she sighs, "I get off for lunch in a couple hours."

You look at the watch on your wrist and tell her that you'll meet her there.

You arrive a little early to the café that Rachel told you she'd meet you at. You did speed a little bit (or a lot) but you seethed all the way there and didn't notice how fast you were going.

It's a tiny café. Probably the most inconspicuous place in town. You feel like she thinks you're going to make a scene. You damn sure are.

When the bell rings on the front door of the café, you nearly crack up laughing when you see Rachel. She has a scarf over her head and oversized sunglasses. A tan trench coat was tied tightly around her waist. She looks like a movie star from decades back, getting ready for a drive in the country.

"Are you sure you don't need a ski mask too?" you ask her as she walks right past you to the counter.

She jumps a few inches off of the ground, her boots making a soft noise as they meet the creaky wooden floor again. She slowly turns on her heel toward you. Even though her eye are hidden, you know she's disappointed. "You're early."

"Have a seat Berry." You gesture to the chair across the table from you.

She removed her sunglasses and yanks the scarf off of her head. Her tone is less than pleasant. "May I get some coffee first?"

You shrug dismissively. She turns back to the counter and orders. You just sit and wait, formulating what you have to say. Organizing the demands and questions until you find the most effective format.

She finally sits down across from you with a cup of coffee balanced precariously on a porcelain saucer. She sets it down on the table and lets out a deep sigh. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"

"I want to talk about Quinn," you state, "And how you're leaving her alone all the time and how you're hiding her. How come you don't bring her places with you? She's a writer. She can do that anywhere."

"My publicist doesn't think…" she trails off when you scoff at her. She narrows her eyes at you, "You don't understand."

"Please make me understand," you lean back in your chair. It quietly creaks in the tiny café against the old wooden planks of the floor.

She sits there quietly for a few minutes, staring at her coffee. Her face flashes though a myriad of emotions before she speaks. "I know the situation isn't ideal."

You shake your head, "It's way less than ideal. She misses you."

"I miss her too," Rachel says quietly, "I'm just…contractually obligated to be all of these places and socialize with certain people. I want nothing more than to steal her away for a week where I could wake up to her furiously writing on her laptop and…."

You hold your hand up, "I don't need details." You tap your nails against your glass. "She's just so sad."

"Really?" Tears appear in Rachel's eyes.

You try to quash the feeling creeping up the back of your throat. The one that makes you want to feel sorry for Rachel too. She has the same look in her face that Quinn does. It stabs you in the heart. You just nod in reply to her question.

She sniffles and runs the back of her finger under her eyes, stopping a tear before the treks down her face. She shakes her head, "I never wanted to make her sad. I love her. So much."

"She's lonely," you add quietly. You didn't mean for it to hurt Rachel. You said it because she needed to know.

Rachel bites her lip and bows her head so that her hair falls in a thick veil around her face. "I don't…" She raises her head and you can see how hard she's fighting the tears. Her eyes are red and glassy. She takes a deep breath and nods, "I don't know what to do." She pulled her phone out of her purse and looked at the screen. Then she went to her contact list and stared.

"Look I didn't come up here to guilt you," you say and then pause, "Well yeah I did. I just want her to be happy."

"As do I," Rachel adds so quietly you almost don't hear it. Her eyes are still on her phone. "Do you think she'd want to come up here? Spend the night before I have to fly to Paris?"

You don't like that she's leaving, but you know that Quinn would love nothing more than to be with Rachel. You nod, "She'd be ecstatic."

A smile breaks out onto Rachel's face. She taps her phone once and puts the phone to her ear. Her smile fades and morphs into a frown. "Mike?….Um yes. Is she busy?…oh she's in the shower?" You can see an all to familiar jealousy wash over Rachel's face as the pitch of her voice escalates. Her eyes meet yours and she covers the receiver of her phone, "Mike is taking the phone to Quinn who is in the shower."

You know she's thinking exactly what you would think if some guy was taking the phone to Brittany in the shower and you were never home. You can't say you blame her, but you're sure she's wrong. Pretty sure.

You want to know what's going on so you move your chair to the other side of the table and lean in close to Rachel. She leans close to you and turns the phone slightly so that you can hear. You distinctly hear the sound of the shower running. Mike tells Quinn that it's Rachel and almost immediately Quinn says, "Hey babe. How's the photo shoot going?"

"Great," Rachel said in a cheery tone that isn't really believable, "Almost done."

"Are you okay?" Quinn asks.

"Why is Mike at our house?" Rachel questions.

You hear the shower cut off, "Oh, he's not. I'm at his apartment."

"Taking a shower?" Rachel continues asking the questions you're thinking.

"Yeah," Quinn answers. You can tell she's starting to get suspicious about Rachel's suspicions. "We just got back from the rock gym ad I needed to shower before I pick up Emily. Are you sure you're okay?"

Rachel's eyes widen, "Who's Emily? Is she-"

"She's my daughter," you tell Rachel before she says something you'll have to hit her for.

"You have daughter?" Rachel blinks.

You hear Quinn ask, "Santana?"

"Yeah," you sigh. You didn't really want Quinn to know about this little trip.

"What's going on?" Quinn asks. You can feel her frown from over the phone line.

Rachel looks at you with a look that practically demands that you explain. So you take a deep breath, "I came to talk to Rachel. It's not a big deal."

"What were you talking about?" she asks back and by her tone you can tell that she already knows.

"You," Rachel answers. She sounds defeated. When you glance at her, you can see the defeat in her eyes.

Quinn's voice is still hard and guarded, "Why were you asking me all those questions?"

Rachel bows her head, "I'm sorry I assumed. I just…I get so scared that while I'm gone someone is going to take you away from me. Someone who is going to be there."

You pull away from the phone and scoot your chair a little ways from Rachel. You feel like this is a conversation they should be having alone. The tension in your body is unreal. You feel like their relationship is dangling off of a tiny precipice and you may have just kicked it off just as you were trying to drag it to more solid ground. Now all you can do is watch it and see if it's going to fall into the darkness or not.

You internally vow to remember to communicate with Brittany. You think that your chances with her have run out and you need to not fuck this last one up. You need to tell her everything. So you pick up your phone off of the table and text her. I love you so much.

Then you turn to Rachel who is staring blankly at the table, trying desperately to blink away tears. She quietly murmurs, "I love you too. I'm so sorry that I even for a second thought you were cheating on me…." She nods as Quinn talks and bites her lip. She takes a deep breath and chuckles despite the tears in her eyes. "Yeah, I was actually calling to ask if you wanted to drive up here and spend the night with me before I leave….yeah…I don't care. I need to see you….alright. Text me and let me know…I love you too…bye Quinn."

She hangs up and runs a hand through her hair. She deeply sighs and shakes her head. "I'm glad you came Santana."

That surprises you. You were sure that you were about to receive the opposite reaction. So you tilt your head to the side and wait for her to explain.

"Regardless of the drama that just unfolded, I realized that I'm missing out on so much," she looks up at you. "I didn't even know who Emily was. I didn't know that Quinn likes to go to the rock gym." She rubs her cheek and adds, "I'm going to call my agent, but first I'd like to catch up with you." She gives you a smile and seems more relaxed, "Tell me about Emily."

You both order a couple of sandwiches and you fill her in on your life since you left Lima. She does the same. She 'aww's when you tell her how Brittany asked you out repeatedly even though you said no repeatedly. You smile when she reenacts the first time she got a call back.

When you get up to leave, she says, "I'm going to hug you now, okay?"

You nod and let her. You even hug her back a little. Just a little.

As you walk to your car, you glance down at your phone in your hand. You see a text message awaiting you. It's from Brittany. She replied to your text with: I love you more.

You smile at your phone and slide into her car. You can't really come up with a response to that do you just leave it at that.

Quinn calls you when you're half an hour away from Manhattan. She asks if it's okay for Emily to stay with Mike until you pick her up. You tell her that it's okay with you and ask if Emily's okay with it. You hear Quinn ask Emily who readily agrees and says that she and Mike are playing a dancing game. You laugh as Quinn tells you she's a natural.

Then Quinn thanks you for going to talk to Rachel. She insists that you two have lunch tomorrow and thanks you again before hanging up to finish packing for her overnight trip.

You stop by Brittany's work on the way to pick up Emily from Mike's. She looks surprised when you walk into her dressing room with a bouquet of flowers from the vendor down the street. The other dancers coo as she jumps onto your arms, crushing the flowers between you.

You don't tell her that you're trying to never take her for granted or that you never want her to forget how special she is to you. You don't want to end up like Quinn and Rachel with only overnights in a hotel and long-distance phone calls to each other. You'd miss her smile too much.

Instead you just tell her that you love her. Then you steal a kiss and leave.

When you pick up Emily, she and Mike are in the middle of a rousing round of Just Dance. So you sit on his pristine couch and watch them finish. Emily wins because Mike was freestyling to the music instead of doing the moves on the screen.

You thank him as you and Emily leave. He smiles and tells you that it was a pleasure - that he'll baby-sit anytime.

"Did you have fun with Mike?" you ask Emily though the rearview mirror as you drive home.

Emily nods, "He dances like mommy."

You smile and nod. "They're awesome dancers huh?"

"Yeah," Emily nods again, the hair that has escaped from her braid bouncing. "Can we have macaroni for dinner?"

"Sure," you reply and try to remember if you have any or you need to stop at the store.

After a short stop at the bodega down the street, you and Emily walk into your apartment. Well you walk. She fell asleep in the car. You're surprised to find Brittany sitting at the table when you walk in. You mouth a quick 'hi' before taking Emily to her room.

When you return, you see that Brittany put the flowers that you gave her in a vase and placed them on the kitchen counter. You smile at her as she stands from her chair. She strides over to you and a throws her arms around you.

"Are you okay?" you ask her, worried about her mood. She didn't smile when she placed her arms around you.

She nods and pulls away, "Are you?"

You raise an eyebrow and nod.

"Oh," she takes a deep breath, "I thought that something might have happened to Abuelo or something with the flowers and all. When your uncle got sick in high school, you bought me a teddy bear and told me you loved me a lot."

You smile and kiss her. "I'm fine. Abuelo's fine...as far as I know. I just…I talked to Rachel today."

"Really?" Brittany asks.

You nod and take her hand, pulling her into the bedroom. You both sit on the end of the bed and pat the bed next to you. When Brittany sits down, you explain everything that happened this afternoon. She looks wildly empathetic and holds your hand through the whole thing.

When the story is done, she watches you, knowing that you have more to day. "I just…don't want that. For us. I love you."

"Oh baby, that's not us," she smiles at you. "We're different."

"But you could go on tour," you tell her helplessly.

She shakes her head, "I won't. We have Emily and I just found you again. I'm not leaving." With a light smile, she kisses your lips, leaning into you. "I love you." Her hands move to your hips and you dip farther down into the mattress.

"I love you too," you mutter against her lips. She gives you one last peck before moving her lips to your neck. Your hand finds its way into her hair and your eyes flutter shut.

Just when you start to fall back onto the bed with Brittany on top of you, you hear the soft padding of feet to your room. You and Brittany both look up when Emily steps in, looking still half asleep. She rubs her eyes and mumbles, "Macaroni."

You smile at her, "I'll make it in a minute."

She nods and slowly turns before shuffling out of the room. You smile at Brittany who is grinning at you. "You're a great mom San."

"You are too," you say back to her and kiss her. "I'm going to call Abuelo really quick before I start dinner."

"I'll make dinner," Brittany kisses your neck one last time before pushing off of the bed, "Tell Abuelo I said hi."

She walks out of the room and you pull your phone out of your pocket, looking for his phone number. You fall all the way back on the bed as you press the green call button, and listening for the dial tone.

Your Abuelo doesn't answer his phone, but this outgoing voicemail message makes you smile. You tell his voicemail that you were just calling to check on him. You tell him that you miss him and you love him. You ask him to call you back and then you hang up.

You walk into the kitchen to find Emily directing the making of the macaroni from a perch on the counter a safe distance away from the stove. Brittany smiles at you when you walk up and slips her arm around your waist, pulling you to her as she stirs with her free hand.

You rest your head on her shoulder and watch the water and noodles swirl in the pot. "I miss Abuelo."

"Did you ask him to come visit?" she asks. You can feel her fingers slowly stroking your hip where they rest.

"I love Abuelo!" Emily calls making you and Brittany laugh, "We can we see him again?"

You tell Emily that you can soon and address Brittany. "He didn't answer," you sigh, "And now I'm all crazy worried about him."

"I'm sure he's fine," she tells you, carefully taking the spoon out of the pot and tapping it against the side of the pot to get ride of excess water before setting in on the stove.

You pick your head up, "But you know him." You glance at Emily and lower your voice, "You know he doesn't remember how old he is sometimes."

"Why don't you call your dad and see if he's seen him?" Brittany turns toward you and links her hands together at the small of your back. Your arms are crossed, but she still holding you close.

You finally drop your arms and lean into her, closing your eyes as your head falls against her chest. "You know usually I'd rather cut off my own ear than call my parents, but I may have to. I'll wait a few hours just in case he's bowling or something and couldn't hear his phone."

She rubs your back and you feel so much better just because she's holding you. "That's a good idea." She brushes the hair away from your face and tucks it behind your ear. "It would be a bad idea to cut off your ear. Your ears are cute."

You giggle and shake your head against her. You don't know how she does it, but you're sure that he's just out with his friends now.

"Oh no!" Emily yells.

You and Brittany immediately pivot around and see that the pot is over flowing. You quickly turn down the heat while Brittany pushes the pot back to the back burner.

She looks at you and you look back at her and you both crack up laughing.

Eventually you give up making dinner (even such a simple dinner) and order pizza. You all crowd in your bed to watch The Little Mermaid on your laptop as you chow down. You watch the two blondes coo and smile and tear up watching the movie and it make you love them even more. You love your family more than you can really express.