You quietly open the front door and try to quietly close it, but when you get to the living room you find her sitting on the couch looking frazzled and drained. When you see her your hands go numb and you feel light headed. Maybe you should have waited a little while longer. Maybe you're not ready for this. You're sure you're not ready. All you want to do it turn around and run out the door. You want to go back to before she supposedly broke up with her boyfriend and just keep going like that.

"Oh thank god," she sighs and stands. She's immediately moving toward you.

You know she's going to hug you so you take a deep breath and a step back, holding your hand up to stop her advance, "I can't. Not right now. I thought that I could handle this but…"

"Quinn listen to me," she states, trying to keep your attention.

You shake your head and start to turn around, "No Rachel. I can't-"

You're cut off by her lips smashing into yours. You're brain is stunned, but your body is very quick to respond. Your fingers seek out her skin and find it on her cheeks. Her gentle hands are caressing your hips through your dress. But then you realize what's happening and push her away. "Damn it Rachel! Don't do that!" You yell with tears streaming down your face, "It's not right and it's not fair. You know how I feel about you and you just...take advantage of it when it suits you!" You storm into your room and start throwing clothes onto your bed before shoving them in the nearest suitcase you can find.

"Where are you going?" Her voice barely makes it to your ears.

You grit your teeth to keep from crying again. You're done with that. You're going to be mad now. You ignore her question and continue packing.

Her eyes are huge watery pools of brown, "Quinn don't leave."

"Stop it Rachel. God I'm such an idiot. How did I ever think this could work?" You move past her, bag over your shoulder. Your whole body is fighting the tears that you know are coming. Your hands are shaking. You knew she was capable of a lot of things, but trying to use your feelings for her to get her way? It hurt more than you can say.

"It can work." She pleads, "It is working. Stay, please!"

You turn to face her. She's bawling and you hand twitches because it wants to comfort her but you stop it. The set your jaw and state in a voice shaking so hard you can hear it, "What do you want from me Rachel?"

Her eyes are wide and panicked. You can tell she's trying to formulate the words that you want to hear. You shake your head and turn back around, making your way back to the front door, "Figure it out Rachel. I can't be a lovesick puppy following you around anymore."

"Don't leave," she rushes after you. "I need you."

Those words cause you to freeze and your heart to shatter. You look down trying to stop the fresh wave of tears. Her hand on your arm makes you open your eyes. "That's not fair." You whisper.

Her grip on your arm tightens, "It's true."

You take a long, deep breath, "I'm going to go." You can see her heart shatter through her eyes and tears pool again. You add, "I'll be back on Monday after work. We can talk and see if we can make it work." You know as much as it'd be easier for you to move out you can't. She's so deeply woven into your heart now that if you leave you'll bleed out.

Santana doesn't look all that surprised to find you at her front door with a suitcase under your arm. She silently lets you in and waits for you on the couch while you put your suitcase into the guest room. When you emerge, she looks up at you, just waiting to see what you'll do. You just walk over to the couch and sit next to her, falling into her arms.

Although Santana is a little weird about physical contact with people who aren't Brittany, she's been a rock for you these past few days. You're thankful for that. You start to tell her that, but she shushes you, continuing to hold you in a tight embrace.

"San?" Brittany's voice calls. You're surprised. You didn't even know she was here.

Santana tilts her head up and calls back, "Yeah?"

"Where are the towels?" your blonde friend's voice asks.

"I think there's one on the cabinet," Santana adds, "If not, the one I used is hanging up on the closet door."

"Eww, it's got Santana hair on it," Brittany says. Even from across the apartment you can tell she's smiling.

Santana glances down at you with a lazy smile before calling back, "You love my hair."

"I'm getting in the shower," Brittany's voice says.

Santana adds, "Hurry, we have to a guest."

There's no hesitation when Brittany calls back, "Hi Quinn!"

You chuckle a little and call back, "Hey Britt."

Brittany tells you both that she'll hurry and her voice disappears. You close your eyes and relax into Santana. She's warm it the warmth eases the tension out of your muscles. You figure there's not much you can do now. The ball is in Rachel's court.

"So," Santana finally starts talking, "I don't have anything to do this weekend. Studying is on hold because I don't have any tests for two weeks and our Dutch princess has finally taken the weekend off, what do you want to do?"

"I want you two to go to a cabin upstate and have a good weekend," you tell her, "I'll stay here and watch TV and get fat."

She laughs and runs her fingers through your hair, "Q, we're going to stay here with you this weekend because Brittany and I have forever together to go upstate and your life is only in crisis like…six months out of the year."

You can't help, but laugh. It's sad though. She's pretty much right. Except that period between high school and New York. Living in Lima was easy. Finn did whatever you wanted to do. Remodeling your house was easy because Finn and Puck are both handy guys and they know how you want things done. You pined for Rachel from afar. Whenever Rachel is in your life, there's turmoil, but you can't help loving every second of it.

Now you're pining for her up close and although the money you're making now easily doubled, maybe even tripled since moving to New York, it hurts a lot worse here than it did in Lima.

You're so deep in your head, that you don't even realize how long you've been laying on Santana until a sweet smell envelopes you and a soft, warm weight is on top of you.

You smile at Brittany who had plopped down on top of you, fresh from the shower. Her hair is dry so you must have been thinking a lot longer than you originally thought. When Brittany kisses your head, you look up at her blue eyes and see her waiting for you to acknowledge her. When you smile at her she asks, "What do you want to do? It's like eleven thirty. We can go out or stay in or go to bed or go to Connecticut."

"Connecticut?" you ask.

Brittany shrugs, "I've never been there."

You smile again and glace up at Santana who is pleading with you with her eyes to say no to Connecticut. You turn back to Brittany, "How about we stay in tonight and talk about Connecticut tomorrow?"

"Awesome," Brittany lays her head on your chest, "Let's play poker."

Before you know it, you're all seated around the coffee table, money and cards all over it as well as Brittany's shirt. She had run out of money fairly quickly and decided that her clothes could be used as collateral.

Santana passes you a bottle of bourbon that you've all been sharing. You check your cards and then take a swig. Then you throw a three dollar bills into the pot.

"Damn Q," Santana says throwing her last three dollars in, "You're a fuckin' card shark."

You smirk, "What do you think I've been doing for the past five years in Lima?" Poker nights with Puck and his friends were definitely something you did enjoy in Lima. You tell Santana that.

"Puck misses you," Brittany adds as she takes the liquor from you.

You quirk an eyebrow, "Really?"

The blonde bobs her head, "I talked to him yesterday." You notice that Santana doesn't look too happy about that, but she tries to hide behind her cards.

"Maybe he could come up here," you offer, "Hang out with us. He hasn't been out of Ohio since high school."

Santana clears her throat and sends a pointed glare your way. You reply with raised eyebrows, asking her what her problem is. She just shakes her head and takes the liquor bottle from Brittany, taking a long drink. "Why don't we get a pizza?"

"Awesome," Brittany grins and gets up. She tosses her cards onto the table, "I fold." Brittany stands up, "I'll go order the pizza. What kind do you want Q?"

"It doesn't matter," you shrug. You're a little excited about eating a real pizza. You haven't had a non-vegan pizza in months.

Brittany skips off into the bedroom. As soon as she's gone, you ask Santana, "Why can't Puck come up here?"

"I don't even like her talking to him on the phone," Santana states, stripping off her shirt and throwing it into the pot.

None of you really discussed the value of a shirt in dollar bills. So you grab a handful of crumpled up dollar bills and toss them in as well. "So you're jealous?"

"When have I not been jealous?" Santana rolls her eyes, "I guess it's not a big deal if he stays with you."

"What if I'm staying here?" you ask, sadly.

She tosses her cards onto the table, face up so you can see what she has. "You won't be. This whole shit with Berry will come to a resolution and everything will be back to normal."

You show your cards and she pouts. "I do believe that a flush beats two pair." You gather up all the money as well as Brittany and Santana's shirts. You don't want to talk about your Rachel problem so you change the subject, "Why no Connecticut?"

Santana's eyes dart to the bedroom door with a paranoid panic. She leans forward to whisper to you, "Because we can get married there and she knows that we can get married there and if we go there, we'll get married there."

"So?" you ask in disbelief, "You're practically already married. You're talking about being with her forever. This is not the time for your commitment issues."

"It's not about me," she quickly sputters out, "My mom and Brittany's mom both made me promise that when we get married we're going to have a real wedding. They wanted it in Lima, but I put my foot down on that. They don't want to pressure us into marriage, but even though we're not the most traditional couple, they want us to do this traditionally. They want us to get engaged first and then plan the huge wedding. They made me promise. It's was like two on one mom tag teaming."

"Then ask her to marry you," you whisper back, "She's your soul mate Santana and I don't even believe in that crap. Can you honestly see yourself with anyone else in the whole world? Better yet, can you stand her being with anyone else?"

"That's not the point," she hisses, "Why do I have to ask her to marry me? I think I've proven that I'm in this. Why can't she ask me?"

A slow, sly smile spreads across your face as you press your hand to your chest and coo, "Aww."

"Shut up," she narrows her eyes at you and sits up straight.

"Why don't you tell her that you want her to do it?" you ask, stacking all of your money into neat piles.

"Where is the romance in that?" she leans back against the couch, "Plus, I've been dropping hints for three months. And if you say anything to her about it, I swear to god Fabray, I'll kill you."

You laugh heartily. She knows you want to say something, but because she's threatened to kill you, you know she's serious so you won't say anything. Brittany comes prancing out of the bedroom with one of her infamous hats on. It was a cute baby blue fedora with a black band around it. She is wearing it with a crooked. She takes her seat on the floor, "The pizza guy will be here in fifteen minutes."

"Awesome," Santana shuffles the cards and deals a few more hands. A few more hands that win you more pieces of clothing. They're both in their underwear when there's a knock on the door. You pick up your stack of bills and make your way to the door.

Apparently the bourbon (or breathing) makes them frisky because as soon as you stand up, Brittany practically leapt up over the coffee table to tackle Santana onto the couch. You open the door and by the expectant look on the pizza guy's face, he's been here before after they've both been drinking. He looks from you to the occasional leg or flare of hair that shows up on the other side of the couch. You can hear their loud kisses and the moaning, starting to erupt. Then he looks to the wad of ones in your hand. You can't help, but smirk and shove enough money to cover the pizza at him, taking the pizza, "Eyes off. They're mine."

His eyes grow comically wide before you shut the door in his face. That totally just made your night. You walk over to them and contemplate dumping a bucket of ice on them. Instead you loudly clear your throat. Santana pulls away with a giggle as Brittany rolls off of her. Brittany hugs you and relieves you of the pizza.

You all sit down around the coffee table and eat pizza, drink and play cards until you're all exhausted. You start to go to the guest room, but Brittany drags you backwards into their bedroom where you fall asleep between then, sandwiched between your two best friends. Best friends that you're not in love with.

But as you fall asleep you wish you were falling asleep with Rachel. You drape your arm around Santana because she feels more like Rachel than Brittany does. But she's still not Rachel. You rest her hand on the curve of a sleeping Santana's hip and realize that it doesn't feel like Rachel's. You miss her and you don't want to miss her. You weren't supposed to think about her tonight, but you are. You bury your face in Santana's hair and pull Brittany's arms tighter around you, tears starting to seep out of your eyes.

The next day, you're the last one out of bed. You figure it's because you were the last one asleep. You can pretty much still feel the bourbon's grip on your body. You can also feel the dried tears still on your face. You don't want to move from the bed, and at this point it seems impossible. Your muscles aren't moving, not that you're trying too hard. This bed is nice. Not as nice as…no you're not going to think about her. You're going to enjoy your day of distracting Brittany and not think about…her. Today she doesn't have a name.

You look around without really even moving your head. It's light outside, but you're not exactly sure what time it is. You wonder where your phone is, but you don't care enough to get out of the bed.

After a few minutes, blue eyes peek into the room and eye you before being joined by a large smile and a lithe body with considerably more clothing on than she did when she went to sleep. Without speaking, Brittany walks into the room and lays down next to you gathering you up in her arms. You sigh and bury your face into her neck. She kisses your forehead.

"So," Brittany looks down at you with a grin, "Santana had to run to her school to get something. It's you and me for a while. I was going to go get you some donuts if you were still asleep and since you're not, we can go to breakfast together."

You smile at her. You love Brittany so much. She's always been like your sister. Your adorable sweet, over-affectionate sister. "Let's go have breakfast Miss B."

She steps into hers and Santana's closet to pick out something for you to wear. You find your phone under your pillow and find that you have a new text. When you open and read it, you smile. You're glad that Santana's not really at school. Hunting for a present for Brittany seems like a much better way to spend a Saturday. You text her back telling her that you'll be more than happy to keep her girlfriend company until she finds what she needs.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Brittany asks, over muffins at a bakery down the street.

You nod, thoughtfully chewing your blueberry strudel muffin. It's a really great muffin. "Of course."

She turns around and digs into her purse, "I got the hints. I heard you and Santana talking. It didn't really take that long to order the pizza last night." She pulls out a small purple box and ceremoniously hands it over to you.

Your mouth literally drops open. And when you open the box, your mouth drops open even more. It's huge. Huge compared to the one you had when Finn asked you to marry him. Huge compared to anything anyone in Lima ever had. It was huge compared to ones you'd see celebrities wear in magazines.

"Wha-what…" you trail off, looking from the ring to her and back.

She lets out a bright smile, "The smaller diamonds were from some jewelry my mom gave me a long time ago that I never wear. The big one," she pauses, eyeing the large square jewel in the middle of the band which you can only assume in platinum. "is new-ish."

"New-ish?" you ask, closing the box and sliding it back to her.

She picks it up and opens the box, eyeing it, "I bought it a long time ago. Well like two months ago after she'd started dropping hints like leaving magazines open to certain pages, and watching those wedding shows on TV." She lets out a sly smile, "She's doesn't really want people to know, but she wants all that romance movie stuff. She likes it when I bring her flowers and stuff."

You smile at the blonde. You know this. You're glad that she does too. Santana's had a rough go at life since you've known her and she deserves someone who loves all her weird little eccentricities. Like that she tries to be a complete badass while going out to find her girlfriend a kitten.

You furrow your eyebrow, "Why haven't you given it to her?"

"Everything has to be totally perfect," Brittany looks over the ring last time before snapping the box closed, "And I don't know how to make it perfect. I've been watching all those Kate Hudson movies trying to figure out how to make it romantic and I…" she lets out a frustrated huff, "None of them are good enough."

You rest your chin on your hand and smile at her, "Britt." You wait for her to look at you before continuing; "You could ask her while she you're watching Desperate Housewives."

"Santana hates that show," Brittany deadpans.

You go over what you just said and backtrack. Then you rephrase, "You could be doing laundry together and you could ask her to marry you and she'd love it because she loves you."

"I love her too," Brittany firmly nods. She is quiet for a moment, "Can you help me? I still want to make it romantic for her."

You smile, "Of course."

After breakfast, Santana texts both you and tells you to meet her back at the apartment. You grin. Apparently Santana has been scoping out this particular present for a while and just had to pick it up this morning.

Brittany grabs and extra muffin for Santana commenting on how she was always forgetting to eat. You're more excited about going back to the apartment than Brittany because you know what's waiting for her so you're dragging her all the way to her front door.

You walk in first and turn around because you want to see the look on her face. And it is a face that you'll always remember. The blonde froze in the doorway upon seeing Santana standing in the living room cradling a tiny gray kitten. It's dark stripes elongate as it stretches and yawns. Brittany walks over to her girlfriend and her new kitten. "Is it…ours?"

You can see the tears brimming Brittany's eyes when Santana nods. Santana beams and hands the kitten over to Brittany. "She's all ours."

You watch them have a moment over the kitten and decide to leave them alone. Santana catches your eyes and gives you a questioning look when you open the door. You just give her a gentle smile and slip out the door. She doesn't stop you.

You can't go home, but you can't stay there. They need their time. You want to give it to them because they're in love and they're your friends.

You walk aimlessly throughout the city finally hitting the edge of the island. The wind off of the water blows through your hair and whips it away from your face. It feels good. It's comforting. It blows away all thoughts of someone who doesn't have a name today. At least that's what you wish it was doing.

You can't help, but miss her. It's been all of fifteen hours since you last saw her and you miss her. You missed her last night while you were playing cards. You could see her playing, leaning over and peeking at your cards and giggling every time you catch her. You missed her this morning over breakfast. Her sleepy eyes and her messed up hair as she sips her coffee and mumbles an incoherent sentence when you ask how she slept. You miss her and it's only been fifteen hours.

You start walking again. This is when you realize where you are, your heart drops. You're standing in the lobby of your apartment building in front of the elevator. The up button is lit. You pressed it and didn't realize it.

"Quinn?"

You whirl around at the sound of your name and let out a long sigh when you see Ethan smiling at you with his work uniform on. He has a tool belt on and a tool box in his hand. His hair looks like he's run his hand through it a hundred times today and his charming lopsided smile is sweet and hopeful.

Ethan. You forgot about Ethan.

"Hey," his smile fades. "Are you okay?"

You glance at yourself in the reflective surface of the elevator doors. Your eyes are red and your cheeks are pink. Someone who really knew you would know you had been crying. Santana would know. Brittany would know. Rachel would know. Rachel would know. But you didn't even know. You walked around Manhattan crying and you didn't know you were crying.

You force a smile, "I'm fine. It was just…the wind off the river. It always does this." You motion to your face.

He looks at his watch, "Well do you have time to go to lunch?"

Just as he asks the elevator doors open. The elevator is empty and you look inside. The elevator will take you up to her. You know she's up there. You just know. You can feel her. The elevator will take you there. If you get on the elevator, you'll do what she wants you to do. You'll be whatever she wants you to be, even if it breaks you.

You look from the elevator to Ethan and then at your feet. You close your eyes and after a long deep breath, you nod. When you look at him, you force another pained smile. You continue to not, trying to convince yourself as well as him, "Yeah, I have time."