Chapter 3
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
"Okay, everybody! Remember, at the end of the day, it's just another party!" The wedding planner, a slim young woman with dark hair, claps her hands. "Do we all know our places?"
In the middle of the group, Sugar Motta raises her hand.
"Yes, Miss Motta?" The wedding planner asks with a fake smile.
"I don't want to walk barefoot." Sugar pouts, earning a groan of disapproval from the rest of the members of the entourage.
"Miss Motta, we all decided that no one's going to wear shoes. Tina and Mike made it clear in the invitation..." The wedding planner trails on in a tone that says she's not very happy with the woman.
"But—" Sugar frowns, only to be cut off by Santana.
"I'm sorry..." Santana huffs at her own predicament. "I've been asked to read some passages. Why am I here?" Santana scrunches her face in frustration.
"Oh..." The wedding planner shuffles through her cards, stopping when she gets her answer. "Ma'am, you'll still read the passages later, but Miss Pierce's supposed partner could not make it to the ceremony so Mike and Tina told me you'll take their place instead."
"Really?" Santana shakes her head in disbelief. "And they couldn't have told me themselves?"
"It was a last-minute notice, Ma'am. We're really, really sorry..." The wedding planner apologizes profusely, the lawyer's reputation is something she just would ignore.
"Rachel does not have a partner too, Santana." Brittany interjects after she clears her throat; a little peeved at Santana's reaction. "I think Mike's trying to call a friend of his to stand as a proxy. We can switch." Brittany offers, aware f how much her ex hates Rachel Berry more than her. As expected, Santana does not make an effort to hide her discontent at the suggestion.
"Are you kidding me?"
"Nope. Not really." Brittany shrugs nonchalantly.
"OKAY!" The wedding planner claps her hands once again. "I think we're all set?"
"Fine." Santana rolls her eyes, taking in Brittany's offered spot beside her.
"TEN MINUTES UNTIL GUESTS START ARRIVING!" The wedding planner screams once again. "Places, everybody!"
"You look really pretty in your dress." Brittany whispers as she rakes her eyes on Santana's simple white dress.
"Thanks, you too." Santana answers politely, wanting to get this thing over and done with.
"I must say..." Brittany toys with her bouquet before looking at her ex. "This seems really familiar."
"How so?" Santana asks curiously, her own bouquet clasped in front of her.
"Our Vegas wedding, duh."
"Yeah, well," Santana raises an eyebrow at her ex-wife. "I don't remember anything from that night."
"Oh." Brittany frowns. "I can—"
"Brittany?"
"Yes?"
"Stop talking."
/
Santana looks at Brittany sitting in the passenger seat of her car. It had been half past one in the morning and she was ready to get home when she passed by a very drunk Brittany who was trying to get into her own car.
As they reach Brittany's gate, Santana's surprised to know that her car's gate pass hasn't been deactivated yet, as the gate opens the moment her card's scanned.
As soon as the gates close, Brittany clumsily gets out of Santana's car with all the remaining strength she could muster, Santana hot on her heels.
"You know, if you want to kill yourself, go ahead. I really don't give a flying fuck anymore." Santana spats as she watches Brittany walk staggeringly towards her main house.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Brittany yells back.
"I'm talking about you and how irresponsible you are!" Santana huffs, her own alcohol intake making her tongue a bit looser than usual, and her mind, slower to react. "You are a twenty-six year-old woman who still thinks that it's alright to party and get wasted until the wee hours of the morning without any regard for your safety and that of others! You're drunk! And what? You were about to fucking drive! What if something happens to you? Huh? Or worse, what if something happens to somebody else because of how irresponsible you are?!"
"Wow." Brittany chuckles bitterly. "Tell me how you really feel, Santana."
"Right." Santana shakes her head in anger. "Why am I wasting my time with you, I wouldn't know." Santana turns her back, ready to leave with a resigned sigh.
"Why do you care, huh?" Brittany screams. "You left me. You think you know things and that's it. But you know nothing! Nothing! You just tossed me aside, and now what? You're acting like you care?! After you tossed me like I didn't matter?!" Brittany whimpers as she runs inside her house, Santana once again following closely behind.
"I didn't toss you aside!"
"Oh really? You threw those stupid divorce papers at me while I was on tour. You didn't even ask me what I thought about it! What I wanted! You just left." Brittany's brow furrows and hurt flashes through her eyes as her shoulders drop. "And now what? You drove me home because you think I'm too drunk out of my ass to do it myself. You feel guilty about what might happen to me that's why you're here, right? You can't bear to think about what other people might say if I do something humiliating? Like always?" Brittany says bitterly. "It's always about what others will think of you, isn't it?"
"Guilt?" Santana laughs menacingly. "I have nothing to be guilty about! This is about you. It's always been about you! We lived like you want, how you want. You got whatever you want, all the fucking time! So don't pin this on me." Santana glares at her ex-wife.
"You left me." Brittany whispers brokenly.
"You made me leave you." Santana breathes out. "I turned my life upside down for you and still, it wasn't enough to make you happy, was it?"
"I was too young, Santana, I didn't—"
"And I let you be yourself!" Santana growls. "You wanted to go on tours, and I let you. I let you even if you knew I wanted us to settle into our new life together. I let you, because I knew you were happy with what you were doing. But I begged you..." Santana's voice breaks as the memory of that time comes back.
Brittany shrinks down, her eyes softening and her lower lip drooping and she looks like a kicked puppy. "It all comes back to that?"
"To that?" Santana laughs dryly. "This isn't just about that. Do you hear me? This is every choice we made in what? Three years! It wasn't the life I envisioned for myself, okay? Do you understand me?"
"No, Santana, really." Brittany's blue eyes gloss over with unshed tears. "It all comes back to that?"
"Hah." Santana chuckles, her own eyes blurry from the onslaught of tears. "Yes. Actually, it does." She admits. "Crazy, right?"
"Okay, yes!" Brittany moves towards Santana, full on crying now. "It was horrible. But that's over. Is it too much to ask if we just try and forget—"
"You. Killed. Our child." Santana yells. "You don't ever, ever forget that!"
"I—I—d-didn't..." Brittany's whole body shakes at the accusation, something that Santana has blurted out for the first time since their separation and divorce.
"You did." Santana cries. "You did. And no matter how much I love you, Brittany, I won't, ever, forget that." Santana trembles as she wipes her own tears with the palm of her hand.
/
Brittany was lying on top of Santana, her head tucked in the older woman's neck as they both play with each other's fingers.
"Santana?" Brittany asked tentatively as she felt Santana sigh contentedly.
"Hmm."
"I got an offer to tour with Gaga."
Beneath her, Santana shuffled on her spot, Brittany's words slowly sank in. "Okay..." Santana trailed on. "What are you going to do about it?"
"I think..." Brittany sighed, unsure of how to go about her next statement. "I think I'll accept it. It's only for four months, then I'll be back home."
"Four?"
"Yup. Max."
"Hmm." Santana hummed, her free hand then trailed soft circles on Brittany's bare back. "I wouldn't be able to visit you from time to time. You know how my schedule is..."
"We can always just call and Skype. And I'll be home during short breaks, so..." Brittany looked into Santana's eyes intently. "What do you think?"
"I think..." Santana whispered, "you should do what makes you happy."
"Is it okay that I go on tour? I mean, we have just been married for a year..."
"Well... I think it's alright. Gotta be a great experience for you, yeah?"
"Absolutely." Brittany beamed before peppering Santana's face with soft kisses. "I love you."
"Love you too."
/
"What do you mean you can't come home?" Santana asked, her voice slightly raised as she rummaged through the stacks of papers on her desk, her office phone still on speaker.
"Honey, my flight had been booked, but the dancer who was supposed to take my place had been injured during rehearsals. I'm really, really sorry." Brittany sounded very apologetic. "I'll make it up to you when I come home, I promise."
"Yeah, well, tomorrow's my birthday."
"I know, honey. I feel really bad. But you know how it is. I can't really get away right now." Brittany pouted at the other end of the line, and even if Santana couldn't have seen her, she knew what look Brittany was sporting that very minute. Santana was about to have a scathing retort to Brittany's quip, when Martha, Santana's beloved secretary popped inside her office as she mouthed, 'Client seven's already here'.
"Brit, I gotta go. I'll call you later." Santana dismissed her wife as she grabbed her notebook.
"But Santana—"
"My next client's here. Take care, now."
"Happy birthday, honey. I love you."
"Yeah, ditto." Santana muttered before cutting the phone conversation, obviously pissed. Martha, sensing her boss' mood swing, moved to rush out of the room, but not before Santana caught her. "Martha, can you please cancel my Hawaii booking? Tickets and hotel and that snorkeling trip."
"Okay." Martha nodded before she swiftly walked out.
"On second thought." Santana yelled, and Martha walked back in. "Book me three more tickets for that trip. Change Brittany's name to Puck's and add Quinn, Cedes and Kurt."
"Really?" Martha asked with a raised brow.
"Yeah. I figure I should celebrate my birthday with my friends rather than eat Chinese take-outs at home. Alone. Don't you think?"
"I think that's a capital idea." Martha mumbled.
/
Santana and Brittany had been married for almost two years and Santana was very dissatisfied. She saw Brittany for a couple of weeks before she would leave for a four to six-month tour, with only a few weeks off in between the end of one tour and the start of a new one.
To add more insult to injury, Brittany still partied a lot during her weeks off, which led to more rows and arguments between the couple.
/
"Oh my goodness, Brittany, is that Santana?" Sugar asked as she squinted her eyes at the woman standing by the bar, arms crossed on her chest as she looked at a half naked Brittany dancing with a number of equally drunk women.
"Oh." Brittany smiled as she saw her wife. "Santana!" She walked towards the visibly upset lawyer who pushed her away the moment she tried to kiss her. "Hey! You look dressed to the nines. What's up?" Brittany furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.
"It's my sister's birthday party, remember?" Santana said through gritted teeth.
"Oh." Brittany narrowed her eyes, trying to remember what day it was. "Oh my goodness..."
"Yeah. Great to know my wife's such an irresponsible brat." Santana hissed before she walked out of the bar as Brittany followed closely behind.
"I just forgot, Santana, I'm so sorry...I just ran into Sugar, then she invited me to have a couple of drinks, then one thing led to another and—"
"Look, I don't want to hear it! You stay here with your friends and don't you dare, and I mean, don't you fucking dare come with me."
"But Mom would be expecting me, wouldn't she? I—"
"She probably won't notice you're not there. You know, with you being MIA all the time." Santana glared as she calls for a cab. It didn't take long for one to stop in front of Santana and when it did, the lawyer grabbed Brittany and pushed her inside the cab. The ride to their house was tensed and silent, with Santana cutting Brittany off every time she opened her mouth to speak. When the cab pulled over to their house, Santana muttered a cold, "Out" and waited for Brittany to get out of the taxi before the car left, this time towards the hotel where Santana's sister's party was about to be held.
/
It was a couple of months before their third wedding anniversary when Brittany decided to take on another offer to dance with an up and coming artist. Despite Santana's disapproval, Brittany insisted that it would be her last and final tour before she settles back in Los Angeles and open up her own studio.
/
"Santana!"
Santana furrowed her brows at the sound of Brittany's voice calling her name. She stood from her spot on the couch and traced the source of the sound.
"Santana!"
Bathroom.
"Brit?" Santana scrunched her forehead in question. "Brit, are you okay?" She asked as she came face to face with a beaming Brittany. "What's wrong?"
With a smile, Brittany placed a stick right in front of Santana's face. "We're having a baby..." Brittany giggled before she laughed at a very surprised Santana.
"Oh my..." Santana's mouth was agape, and before she could speak further, Brittany had already jumped at her. "Baby..." Santana chuckled as she bit her bottom lip, a smile made its way to her mouth.
"At first, I thought, maybe... because I've only been a delayed for a week and I didn't know it would show up in that stick so soon..."
"We're having a baby..." Santana whispered as she peppered Brittany's face with soft kisses, before her lips trailed down her spouse's stomach. "Hey baby..."
/
"Wait, what?" Santana frowned as she let Brittany's words sink in.
"It's just for two months, hon."
"No way, Brit." Santana shook her head as she threw a number of fruits and vegetables in the blender before she fiddled with the buttons. "You're just a few weeks along and we can't risk it." Santana said as she poured the contents of the juice in Brittany's favorite glass before she wordlessly handed it to her wife.
"Thanks." Brittany said as she sipped on her juice.
"Yum?" Santana asked playfully as she gently kissed the top of Brittany's head.
"Yum!" Brittany beamed as she waited for Santana to sit on the stool before she leaped on the lawyer's lap. "So..."
With a raised brow, Santana looked at Brittany questioningly. "So?"
"You're not sure if you'll allow me to go on tour again..."
"That's absolutely not true..." Santana sighed. "You're not going on tour. At least not anytime soon."
"But Santana..." Brittany pouted. "This is the last one, I promise..."
"Brit, if you're not pregnant, we're not going to have this conversation." Santana said firmly. "But you are. And I don't want you to put our baby's life at risk."
"Beyonce didn't know she was pregnant during one of her tours. And her baby was fine." Brittany defended. "It's not really as frightening as most people take it to be..."
"I don't want you touring this year, Brit. After our baby's birth, you can do anything you want. Just this once, please? Please stay home?"
"What if..." Brittany trailed on, her eyes shone with excitement. "What if I don't dance during tours, per se?"
"What do you mean?"
"They only need me to choreograph some of the routines. It won't be as tiring as when I danced back up."
"I don't know, Brit. I'm not really comfortable with the idea..."
"Please? Pretty please?"
"Still a no, love."
"Even if Dr. Andrews give me the go signal to dance?"
"I don't know..."
"Please?" Brittany pouted.
"I don't think so, young lady." Santana said sternly, her face tired and ashen at Brittany's incessant need to continue working.
/
"What's this?" Santana asked as Brittany unceremoniously walked into her office, a piece of paper on hand.
"It's a medical certificate from Dr. Andrews saying that everything looks great, and I'm cleared to do normal activities, dancing included." Brittany grinned as she showed Santana the paper.
With a groan, Santana rubbed her tired eyes with the heel of her hand. "You really won't let this go, would you?"
"Nope." Brittany beamed.
"I swear, Brit, if something happens to our baby..." Santana sighed, chills ran down her spine at the mere thought of what could happen to their unborn child.
"Santana, you're thinking way too much into it. It's just a month now. Tops. I promise you, I'm going to be extra careful, our baby girl won't even feel me moving."
"Baby girl?" Santana grinned at the idea.
"I have a feeling we're having a girl..." Brittany beamed.
/
"You lied to me, Brittany." Santana spats, her eyes are cold and are filled with anger and hurt.
"Santana—"
"Dr. Andrews never gave you that stupid piece of paper."
"San—"
"And I was so, so, stupid to believe you." Santana blurts out, pacing across the hallway. "I'm a fucking good lawyer and I didn't, for a second, check on that stupid certificate. I didn't even freaking check with Dr. Andrews." Santana cries, her whole body shaking with anger. "You know why?"
"I—"
"I fucking trusted you. I trusted you with our baby's life and you fucking killed our child!"
"It was an accident! I would never—"
"An accident?" Santana screamed, walking towards Brittany so her ex is backed against the wall. "You deliberately put our child's life in danger." Santana laughs bitterly. "And here l am, thinking that maybe, just maybe, you'd learn something from that. But then here you are, living carelessly and drunkenly. Who are you going to kill this time, huh?"
"I—I d-didn't—"
"You killed my child."
"P-Please s-stop... S-Santana, I—I will—"
"I trusted you. I loved you. I gave up my family for you..."
"S-Santana p-please—"
"You are," Santana looks into Brittany's scared blue eyes before continuing, "you are the greatest mistake of my life." Santana spats as she feels Brittany's hold on her loosen. Santana doesn't have to glance at the younger woman to know that she's slumped in a sitting position.
Tentatively, Santana steps away from the dancer. It takes her a couple of steps before her knees give out, making her slump on the ground a few distance away from Brittany.
Santana doesn't speak, neither does she cry nor feel anything anymore.
She just sits there, eyes focused at the wall behind Brittany.
/
Can't believe it's been three months since this story was last updated. Again, apologies for the delay.
All mistakes are mine. Let me know what you think!
