Iliana was lying flat on her back on the bed when Mami walked in, and she didn't turn her head or acknowledge her in any way.
"Scoot," Mami said without preamble, gently prodding Ily over on the bed so she could lie next to her. She complied easily enough, and mother and daughter lay there silently for several long moments, staring at the ceiling and engaged in their own thoughts.
"I guess I don't really need to ask why you did what you did," Mami said at last.
"Nope," Ily agreed.
"And you did it knowing that you'd be in huge trouble when we got you back home. So it must have been pretty important to you, huh."
"Uh huh."
"You know, when I was about your age, my mami and papi started fighting a lot."
"Abuela and Abuelo?" Ily asked, turning her head to look at her mami in surprise.
"Yeah. I know it seems crazy now because they seem so happy and that was so long ago."
"When you were my age? That's a million years ago!"
"Hey, watch it."
"Sorry."
"Anyway, I remember how it made me feel when they were fighting. I felt upset, and helpless, and scared. Even angry. They were always getting onto me for my temper, and here they were bringing the house down with their yelling. It seemed unfair. But mostly I was just afraid they weren't going to stay together. A lot of my friends' parents were divorced and I couldn't even picture my mami and papi not being married anymore. It was awful."
Ily shifted on the bed and reached for one of her mami's hands, idly playing with her long fingers. "What happened?" she asked quietly.
"They worked it out. And I never really found out what it was that was wrong between them. I asked Mami once and she told me it was nothing for me to worry about, which I thought was stupid. How could I not worry?"
"You and mama say that to me sometimes," Ily pointed out. "Uncle Kurt does too. And Aunt Rachel and Uncle Blaine."
Santana sighed. "I guess that makes you feel like it made me feel when I was a kid, huh?"
"Pissed."
"Iliana."
"Sorry. It makes me mad."
"Mija, you don't think you have anything to do with Mama's and my fighting, do you?"
There was a long pause, which served as confirmation to Santana. "Do you?" she repeated.
The little girl took a shaky breath before trying to convey grown-up concepts and emotions with her eight-year-old vocabulary. "I don't think it's my fault, exactly," she said. "Or, it wasn't at first. I was being good and not getting in trouble at school when it first started. But then it seemed like I was making everything worse. You yelled all the time and Mama seemed so sad and everything was awful. And then. Then she left." Iliana bit her lip before saying the last part, because she was about to cry and she hated to cry. "I don't understand why she left us, Mami. Nobody ever told me why."
"Oh, baby girl. Come here."
Ily let her mami pull her closer and bury a kiss in her hair. And when she spoke, it sounded like she was about to cry, too.
"Iliana, she didn't leave us. She didn't leave you. I mean, God, she really didn't even leave me. It broke her heart to go, but she thought she was doing the right thing. Our fighting was hurting you, and we couldn't seem to stop doing it. She thought it was what was best for you."
"So it was my fault she left."
"No! Iliana Marie, look at me. NO. Parents make decisions that they think are in their kids' best interest and sometimes kids don't understand, and this is just one of those things. You just have to trust me, and trust Mama, that her moving out wasn't your fault. Not even almost. Do you hear me?"
Ily nodded against her mami's chest.
"You did nothing wrong, baby girl. Well. Until today, that is."
Ily groaned. She knew they'd get around to this part soon. "I'm sorry."
"You're sorry for which part?"
"I'm sorry I made you worry."
"And?"
"And leaving the house when I know I'm not allowed."
"And?"
"And not coming home when you told me to."
"And?"
"I … uh."
"How about putting yourself in danger and taking at least 10 years off my life and putting your aunt and uncles in an impossible position and trying to meddle in something that you don't understand and giving me my first gray hairs. How about that?"
"Yeah, okay, I'm sorry for all of that, too."
"You're super grounded."
Ily turned to look at her mami, curious. "What's that mean?"
"I don't know yet, but it's not going to be pleasant."
Ily giggled.
"What's funny? This isn't funny. Being punished isn't supposed to be funny." Her expression remained stern as she snaked an arm over and started tickling her daughter's belly.
Giggles turned to squeals and uncontrollable laughter as Ily tried in vain to roll off the bed and away from the tickle attack but Santana held her in place and reupped her efforts.
"S-s-s-stop! Puh-leeeese! Mami! I can't … breathe!" Ily managed through her laughter. A few more seconds and the tickling stopped.
"Consider that payback," Santana proclaimed. She sat up, getting back to business. "Now I want you to give me your tablet. I'm taking the cable to your TV, too. Your new bedtime is 7:30, and that's lights out, not time for reading or quiet play."
Ily frowned. "It's not even dark then," she protested.
Santana raised an eyebrow. "Oh, honey, I'm just getting started. Save your complaining for when I get to the real punishment."
"I shoulda made more demands," Iliana grumbled under her breath.
"What was that?" Santana asked sharply.
"Nothing."
"That's what I thought. Now, look at me, Iliana Marie."
The girl complied.
"Do you know how much I love you?"
Iliana considered. "A lot?"
"More than a lot. More than you can even imagine. And if you ever, ever start to question that, I want you to remember this moment, and me telling you that there is nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you. No matter how angry I get or how much I yell—and I'm sorry, mija, but I'm a yeller—you need to know that my love for you never moves an inch. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Mami."
"Good. Now sit here and I'll send Mama up. You be good and do not try to play her, Ily, do you hear me? She's not going to cave to your puppy dog eyes."
Iliana couldn't help it; she gave her mama a smirk. "She always does," she pointed out.
Santana bit the inside of her cheek so she could maintain her HBIC expression. "Don't even try," she warned.
Maybe when she leaned down and kissed her little girl on the cheek she lost a few tough-parent points, but she didn't care. She loved this child more than life itself, and she'd be damned if she missed a moment to express that.
She met Brittany in the hallway, and they exchanged a look and a kiss just before Britt slipped past into their little girl's room.
