AN: Consider this another route "Love You Crazy" could have gone. I low key hate the direction I went with that as well as the writing too. While there will be some slight elements of that fic here, it's going to go a whole other direction. There's an AN at the end of the original. Also I did reuse this title from a one shot because I really like that song. Thank you all for taking the time to read!
February 2015
Her phone is ringing. And if she were to be honest, in the dark silence of her room on the eve of such a big day, she welcomes the distraction.
It rings out three times before her hand finally reaches out to her nightstand. She squints against the light of her phone displaying the midnight caller's name and rolls her eyes.
Bringing the phone to her ear, she's cut off before she has the chance to say anything.
"I'm happy for the girl who sang Landslide and If I Can't Have You." The voice on the other line says. It's simple and straight to the point.
She waits for her to continue, yet all she gets is steady breathing on the other line.
"What?"
"I said, I'm happy for-"
"I know what you said, Quinn." She says sitting up in her bed, the headboard cool on her back. "What does that even mean?"
Again, she waits for her to speak again.
Nothing comes and Santana can hear the faint sound of music playing somewhere in the background. It lasts a bit longer than a moment and while she's confused and a little annoyed, she waits.
She allows it. She sits with Quinn in the silence.
When Quinn finally speaks up again it's clear and resounding.
"You're not her."
In another life, another time, she might have rolled her eyes again. Maybe even got out of bed and began to pace the length of her room as she cursed out the blonde on the other line. Maybe she would have even hung up.
Maybe.
But, here, in this moment, this life, she finds herself silent when Quinn says.
"You're making a mistake."
October 2015
It stays with her. And she thinks about it more often than she would ever admit out loud.
Like now, months later as she sits at her kitchen table eating breakfast Quinn's voice echoes in her mind, clear as the day she said it.
After the honeymoon, she and Brittany settled into a small apartment in Boston and started their lives for the first time, together.
And it was great.
The summer that followed was all she had imagined it to be as they lived in newlywed bliss. From waking up in the arms of the woman she loved every morning, to making love late into the night to grocery shopping every Sunday afternoon. After being apart so long, to be able to reconnect and just be, it was all she ever wanted. It was then in those moments she thought for sure, Quinn was wrong.
But then fall came and classes started for them both. Brittany at MIT and she at the local community college. The shift was subtle, barely noticeable at all with the excitement of starting something together again.
Yet, there was a difference this time around.
As the days became longer, Santana became lonelier.
Everyone changes. She thought to herself as Brittany traded her People magazines for academic journals and Disney movie nights for documentaries.
Sacrifice, she would tell herself when Brittany would fall asleep on date nights. This is what it means to be married.
"You're not that girl." Quinn had said. So simply, so true.
And as the days went by, it became more apparent.
She came to realize that Boston, while charming in its own way, was not New York City. She missed the daily grind she had in the city that never sleeps, the long nights at the diner, the chaos of Pamela Lansbury, hell even the pressure of being Rachel's publicist.
She had done so much in such a short time, the mundane sameness of college life even while married to the woman of her dreams felt empty.
The days were starting to become routine.
She'd see Brittany off with a packed lunch and strawberry smoothie each morning as her classes started later and ended earlier than the blonde's. After a quick kiss and 'I love you' she'd be left standing alone in their quaint kitchen. She'd make herself breakfast and eat at the kitchen table watching as the seasons changed. Then she herself was off and on her way to her classes.
When she got home on the two days she didn't work at the campus bookstore she'd try her hand at one of the many cookbooks they'd gotten as wedding gifts. And on the days she did work, she tried her hand at crockpot and air fryer meals.
Who would have thought? Santana Lopez, a homemaker. She can imagine Quinn now, see her clearly, shaking her head telling her "I told you so."
At the thought of her, Santana picks up her phone. The familiar tug to call a certain blonde apparent as she scrolls through her contacts.
Needless to say, after the night before her wedding things between her and Quinn had been different. While there was an occasional life update through text, no other calls were made from Quinn. It's almost as if it never happened.
Almost.
She stops scrolling as she notices the time in the corner of her screen and places it face down on the table.
Grabbing her cup, she finishes the last of her coffee before getting up to wash her dishes. She's placing her cup in the sink when she hears the familiar buzz.
And for a second her heart starts at the possibility of it being the last person on her mind. She walks back swiftly to pick it up.
It's not Quinn.
It's her mother.
And while it's not who she wanted, she's happy to hear from her.
"Hey Mami." She says into the phone.
"Hi mija." And she pauses. She knows that tone. The care taken in the simple three syllables speaks volumes.
"Mami, what's wrong?" She asks, sitting back down at the table. "Is everything alright?"
There's silence and then she hears her asks. "Are you sitting?"
Hearing the concern in her mothers voice, in her silence. She knows. So she takes a breath calming herself before she speaks again.
"Yes. I'm sitting. Mami?"
"Mija. Abuela passed."