It seems that a few of your cast mates and the crew had heard about you and Rachel. A few of them congratulated you and a few were a little too interested in Rachel. After a few hours though the novelty wears off and your directors bitchy mood causes everyone to focus.
When you get home, Rachel is sitting at the kitchen table sipping on some tea and reading a book. Her foot is on the edge of her chair and her chin rests on her bent knee. She smiles at you and watches you put down your things.
"Where's my kiss?" she fake pouts as you get out some water.
You chuckle and walk over to her giving her, her kiss before taking the seat next to her.
"How was rehearsal?" she asks, closing her book.
You shrug, "It was okay. Courtney, the new male lead, is turning out to be pretty awesome." You check your phone and find a text from Jenny reminding you of your interview in a few days. You groan and Rachel asks you what's wrong.
"My first interview," you answer, sipping your water, "It's kinda scary." Actually it's really scary. Terrifying even. So many things could go wrong. You could say something wrong, trip over your words. What you say could be taken out of context….so many things.
"We'll practice," Rachel puts her leg down and sits up straight. "I'll ask you a few questions so you get the feel for what they'll ask." She finds a notepad and pen and has her hand poised to write, "okay where did you and Rachel meet?"
You lick your lips and answer, "We met in high school."
"Was it love at first sight?" you can see the grin fighting it's way onto her face.
You let out a wistful smile, "I didn't realize it at the time but for me it was yeah."
"You didn't realize it at the time?" her eyes stay on the paper as she scribbles away.
"No," you shake your head, "She kinda like..." you pause, "Rach I don't know what to say."
"How did it feel?" she sets her pen down and leans forward, patiently waiting for your answer.
"It felt... Weird," you offer, then feels like that was the wrong thing to say. When you look back at her she's just looking at you without any kind of judgment. You take a deep breath an continue, "It felt like I knew you were important but I never knew how. Not until that talk we had in the hallway. I don't want to use the word obsessed but I thought about you a lot."
"Use the line about me being important," Rachel advises and then breaks out in a smile, "It's so odd for me to think back to my time at McKinley and know what I know now. It changes my whole perspective."
"I wasn't ready for you yet. I wasn't even ready for me yet." You add as she continues writing.
"I know this hasn't come up yet but I do want you to be ready just in case it does. How are you going to handle questions about Beth?"
You exhale. You knew that was coming. Rachel had yet to ask you about Beth throughout your entire New York relationship. You're surprised that you even got this far without it coming up.
At this you are at a total loss for what to say. "I don't know. What do you think?"
"How do you feel about it?" She looks down at the paper, biting her lip like she's nervous.
"I know I did the right thing but... But part of me will always be missing." Rachel again puts down her pen to look at you, "Sometimes I feel it more than others. But she's always there. A small part of me is always thinking about her."
Rachel looks at you and you can see that she's weighing if she should ask you what she wants to or not. Of course she is Rachel so the talking side wins out over the non-talking side. "What do you think about?"
"I wonder what she's doing, how she's doing," you sigh and feel an old pain in your chest, "She's almost seven now so she's in second grade. I wonder if she's a good student or if she likes reading like I do. Does she make friends? Does she like to sing? Dance? What did she get from me? What did she get from Puck?"
Rachel is quiet, just listening to what you say. She doesn't offer any judgment or comforting words. She just looks at you.
You take a moment to gather yourself before adding, "I'll probably just ask Kathy."
Rachel nods and turns back to her pad.
You can see it in her. She's holding something back and you don't want that, "I know you want to ask me something. Please do. It's freaking me out."
"Do you regret it?" she asks with hesitation.
"Cheating on Finn? Yes. Puck being my first? Yes. I don't regret Beth. She doesn't deserve that. She deserves the best life that can be given to her and Shelby Cochran is doing that. I know because I know she has regrets too and she's making up for them."
"Do you want to talk about her?" Rachel asks, "I mean since you think about her all the time. If you want you can just talk and I'll just listen."
"Um not right now," you scratch you arm not meeting her eyes, "but next time I feel like talking about it. It's just... The only other person I've ever talked about it to was Puck and we both had to get really drunk to do it without it being super awkward."
"I understand," she nods, "I'm just offering. You know you can always talk about anything." You know she's a little disappointed, but she's taking it in stride.
You decide to chance the subject, "I got my first paparazzi picture taken today."
She grins, "How was it?"
"It was okay," you stand up from your place and walk to the cabinet, extracting a glass. You pour yourself some orange juice and lean back on the counter, "I'm sure you're experience will be more memorable." Suddenly a thought occurs to you and you tilt your head, "Can they photoshop me into a night club picture with a drink in my hand?"
"Ooh at a strip club?" Rachel asks, laughing with the goofy smile on her face, "I bet they could even add a stripper giving you a lap dance."
"With my waiting-for-the-crosswalk-signal face?" you ask with a growing smile.
"Oh especially with your waiting-for-the-crosswalk-signal face," she say and then breaks out laughing.
You laugh with her until your abs hurt and you're holding onto the chair for support. After a while you're both doing your own things in the kitchen. She's finishing the puppy she started drawing when she was pretending to write notes for the fake interview and you're making some more tea.
You walk into the living room to look out the window and down at the streets below. It's getting cold outside and that makes you smile. Although you spend more time in Rachel's bed than you do in your own, it gives you an extra good excuse to cuddle with her for warmth.
You feel Rachel walk up behind you and hold you from behind. "What are you looking at?"
"Nothing really," you answer, sighing deeply. After a moment of just standing there, you turn your head and ask, "Can I walk you to work?"
Rachel kisses your cheek, "Of course. You can even stay and watch the play if it isn't too boring for you since you have seen it more times than anyone else. Or you could hang out in my new Tony Award winner dressing room."
You chuckle and glance at the award that is now the centerpiece of the display on one shelf of a built in bookcase since you don't have a mantel. "Would it be weird if I waited for you in your dressing room?" You don't add that you don't want to be alone. You want her close.
She kisses your cheek again, "Definitely not weird. You can watch TV or read a book or sleep. My dressing room is your dressing room. Until your show starts, of course, because hiking six blocks in full stage make up is not advisable."
Once you're both bundled up with the inclusion of sunglasses for hopeful anonymity, you leave your apartment. But you don't even get past the first block before you see the first camera.
"Ignore them," Rachel tells you as you continue to walk.
You blow your bangs out of your eyes, "It's difficult when they all walk like buffalo."
She giggles and pulls you into a coffee shop. The photographers stay outside while you two walk up to the counter. You look questioningly at Rachel who tells you that you may get thirty or hungry during the show.
While you're waiting for your order, you two take a seat at a table far enough away from the windows so that no one can get a clear picture of you.
Rachel asks, nibbling at a vegan cookie you two decided to share, "How do you want to do the holidays?"
"What do you mean?" you glance out the window and see a few of the cameramen smoking cigarettes and chatting amongst themselves.
"Like do you want to go to Lima or do you want to fly our parents and your sister out here? Hanukah is a must for me but I can do Christmas too if you want or if you want it to just be your mom and sister and her husband." She rambles like she does when she's nervous and you think it's adorable.
You shrug, "It's up to you. I just want to spend the holiday with you."
She grins, "Good answer. We're going to Lima and we're bringing Ethan because his family will be out of the country and he will be alone. Also," she pauses smiling wide. She uses her hands to gesture widely before saying, "Chrismukkah."
You chuckle, "How Seth Cohen of you."
"Who?" She furrows her eyebrows.
Why are you not surprised that she doesn't know who that is? "The guy from the O.C."
"Is that a movie?" She takes another bite of the cookie as your order is called.
You add, "I now know why you and my mom get alone so well," before getting up to get it.
"I don't know who this Cohen guy is, but I read the term in an article about mixed religion couples." Rachel states, standing with you and putting on her coat.
Again, are you really surprised? "Aren't your dads mixed religion?" You pick up her scarf and loop it around her neck.
She smiles at you and kisses your cheek before tucking one end of the scarf into the other, "They were but since their marriage daddy converted to Judaism. Hence no longer mixed."
"Ah," you've thought about converting for her. She's just never hinted that she wants you too. You've always thought that the Jewish faith is interesting and it made the most sense. You spent many a night when you were pregnant with Puck talking about deep things, deeper things than you thought possible from him. Religion was a big one and he told you everything he learned in Hebrew school and you're sure you could still read it a little. You decide to ask her if she wants you to convert in the most indirect way you can, "Do you like being mixed religion?"
She stops what she's doing and looks at you. "Do you?"
"I asked you first." You pick up your to-go bag and coffee.
She picks up hers and starts slowly leading the way toward the door, "Are you insinuating what I think you are?"
"Probably unless it makes you mad at me. In that case you are way off base." You add with a smile.
"I think we're talking about one of us converting religions." She pauses right in front of the door. You can see the photographers getting ready behind her.
"We are sort of. Because when you say one of us, I'm thinking me." You throw it all out there before you can take it back or give up entirely.
"Really?" she asks quietly.
You nod keeping your hold on her eyes, "Your religion is important to you. I'm not sure there is a process for converting to mutt."
"Are you sure?" she asks, pushing open the door, "That's a big decision."
"I'm sure," you nod.
She smiles at you like you just laid your coat down in the puddle for her, "If you do it, the classes don't really matter. Plus, they're super boring and I wouldn't want you to have to go through that. I'm sure being surrounded by the Jewish Berrys at Hanukah will be enough."
You laugh as she slides her hand into yours, ignoring the paparazzi and leading you to the theatre. Her new dressing room is impressive. You lay on the extremely comfortable purple couch in her dressing room while her hair is getting done. She's talking to the stylist about her kids and her holiday plans. You're on your phone texting Santana about how her and Brittany's moms are going crazy with the wedding.
When Santana sends you pictures of the bridesmaids dresses you burst out laughing.
"What going on?" Rachel swivels in her chair and looks at you.
"How do you feel about sequins?" you ask her.
"Who are you talking to?" Rachel asks, readjusting her robe.
"Santana," you grin and sit up, "About the wedding."
"Oh no really?" Rachel walks over to the couch and sits next to you. You show her the picture and she sighs, "Why did we agree to be maids of honor?"
"Because Santana's my best friend and she asked."
"And Brittany is my best friend and I had too many drinks and insisted." She laughs and looks at the picture again, "You'd think the women who spawned Brittany and Santana would have better fashion sense than that."
"Do you think we could talk them into something nicer?" you ask, dropping your head on Rachel's shoulder, "If the paparazzi are still following us, I really don't want me wearing that on the cover of a tabloid."
"You?" she asks, "What about me wearing that?"
You sit up and let out a smile, "You look good in anything?"
The lights in the dressing room flicker as you both search the internet on your phone for a dress in that color that isn't as hideous. She gives you a lingering kiss and stands, "That's for me."
You smile at her, "You go Tony Award Winner Rachel Berry."
She laughs and gives you another kiss, "You can say that more often if you want."
"Okay," you say as she walks to the door, "Break a leg Tony Award Winner-"
"And you're done," she calls over her shoulder before disappearing.
You lay back down on the couch and look up at the ceiling. You probably need to be running lines. You have all of your lines memorized, but that doesn't matter if your delivery sucks. You can also start panicking about money. You're bank account is slowly being drained and with no income as of late, you're on the fast track to mooching off of Rachel which you completely refuse to do. Or you can worry about this interview and the multiple ways that you can be painted in an unfavorable light. Then there's Brittany and Santana's wedding that is in a week or two (you'll have to ask your assistant) which is going to be in Lima.
You roll onto your side on the couch and yawn. All this panicking is making you tired. But before you can go to sleep your phone rings.
"Hey," Jenny says, "I got your text. I already called a few people back and they're definitely interested. What day did you want me to schedule them for?"
"Um…there's a day this week I don't have rehearsal," you rub your eyes, "It's uh…Tuesday. Schedule them for that day and make sure to get the specific apartments they want to see."
"Then I call the agent that listed it and have them meet you there?" she asks.
"Yeah."
"Awesome," she says, "I'll get on that first thing tomorrow."
"Thanks Jenny." You hang up and set your phone on the small table in front of the couch. You internally and sarcastically welcome yourself back into the world of real estate.
So when Tuesday arrives and you walk out of your room dressed in business clothes, Rachel looks at you questioningly from her place on the couch where she's under a blanket, reading a book, "Where are you going? I thought your rehearsal was cancelled today."
You pour yourself some coffee into a travel mug, "I am going to show an apartment."
She sets her coffee down and kicks her blanket off, "Why? I though this whole career change thing was…permanent."
"Workshopping is something can take years of working for almost nothing and traveling to promote. Little recognition and did I mention I'm not getting paid?" You lean on the counter as she approaches you.
"But I was going to-"
"No Rach. I love you and I am not going to live off of your fancy Broadway money. Besides you already pay my personal assistant who lined up these shows today. I have six so I have to go," you kiss her and grab your bag.
She sighs heavily, "Can I at least get a better kiss than that before you leave?"
You turn and you can see the disappointment in her face. You know that she probably wanted to spend the day with you shopping or spa hopping or just cuddling on the couch and there is no place you'd really rather be, but your resources are slowly dwindling and you're not at the stage in your relationship (if you ever will be) to accept someone else taking care of you.
You pull her to you and kiss her deeply, trying to apologize without actually saying it. Her body rests against yours and it makes it really hard for you to not to blow off all of your appointments today and stay.
"I love you," she wraps her arms around your shoulders in tight hug, "But you're going to make this up to me."
You laugh with her and pull back, placing a kiss on her forehead, "Of course. Let me know what kind of repayment you'd like when I get home."
You're reminded how much you hate real estate when you walk out of your sixth showing of the day. Jenny called earlier to let you know that she added one last appointment onto the end of your schedule. You're surprised at the location. You were sure that your dream apartment would have sold by now. You feel weird about walking back into the scene of your first date with Rachel, especially in the daylight.
You refamiliarize yourself with the apartment. The layout is absolutely perfect. The bathrooms are amazing. The bedroom is so spacious and you love that it's lofted. The second bedroom is small compared to the master suite, but the windows and bookshelves make up for it in your opinion.
You hear the front door open. "Hello?" a British accented voice calls, "Ms. Fabray?"
You make your way back into the living room and spot your client. However your client isn't a client. It's Rachel. "What are you doing here?"
"I am your four o'clock appointment," she grins, "So show me around."
You quirk an eyebrow at her. "Are you serious?"
"I am absolutely serious," she states with a straight face.
She's an amazing actress so you have no idea if she's really serious or not. You decide to play alone and start walking, "Well, as you can see the living room has a fabulous view of Central Park."
"How far away is it from the theatre that hosts the play starring Tony Award Winner Rachel Berry?" she asks, her face still stone cold serious.
You fend off a smile and think about the answer, "About five blocks."
"How many bedrooms?" she asks, looking up at the ceiling and back down the other side of the room.
"Two bedrooms, two bathrooms," you start walking again, "Up these stairs is the master bedroom with an en suite bathroom." It feels weird talking to Rachel like this, but when you glance behind you as you're walking up the stairs in front of her, you see that she's having a little trouble staying in character as well because her eyes are staring at your ass. When she sees you watching her she clears her throat, "Any termites or bad plumbing?"
"All the plumbing was replaced with the last remodel about five years ago," you explain, as you step off of the stairs into her master bedroom. "No termites."
She walks over to the railing, over looking the living room. You can see her eyes running over the treetops of the park through the windows in the living room, "Is the second bedroom big enough for a piano?"
You nod, eyeing her suspiciously. You don't know what she's getting at. If she's really interested in this place and wants to put the piano in the second bedroom, she either wants you to sleep with the piano or doesn't plan on bringing you with her.
After you complete the entire tour of the apartment, you lean back on the ledge in front of the ceiling high living room windows and cross your arms, "Rach, what's really going on?"
"Jake called me today and told me that our neighbors offered to buy us out of our apartment so that they could expand their apartment," she says, standing in the middle of the bare living room. "They offered ten thousand more than we paid for it."
"Than you paid for it," you correct.
She rolls her eyes at you, frustrated, "I, we…it doesn't make a difference to me. What I'm getting at is that I want to move here."
You swallow and bow your head. It makes sense now, "And you want me to find somewhere else to live."
"Oh my god Quinn," Rachel huffs and throws her hands up in the air, "I want us to move in together. Like really move in together. I want us to sleep in the same bed every night. Even though we've pretty much been doing that anyway, I don't even want you to have the option of not sleeping with me."
Your mouth drops open. Wow you were you way off base. "So you want to live here?"
"If you still do," she softens and walks over to you, Her hands rest on your hips, "I think it would be pretty amazing to wake up in the morning and be able to see trees from our bedroom. I think it would be pretty amazing to wake up in our bedroom."
You go over it in your head and find that if Rachel does sell your old apartment to the neighbors, that minus the recently reduced cost of this apartment will leave Rachel with a very nice chunk of change afterward.
"It's smaller than our apartment right now," you mention. Going from three bedrooms to two bedrooms will definitely force you both to get rid of a bunch of things.
She grins, "Like I said, no other options, but sleeping with me."
"Would you be okay here?" you ask, "Really? You can't buy it if you don't love it."
"I very much love it," she smiles and kisses you, "And I very much love you and I hope you will do me the honor of moving in with me."
You look at her hopeful eyes and can't help, but smile at her, "I would love to."
"Yay," she claps excitedly before nailing you against the window in a deep kiss. The cold glass on your back and the heat of her body against yours is a delicious contrast.
Before you can get too lost in it, her phone rings. She sighs and pulls it out of her pocket. She answer it quickly, "Hello?….oh my gosh I totally forgot. Thank you so much…I'll be right there."
"Forget something?" you ask with a smirk.
"My job," she grabs her purse and kisses you again, "Start the paper work. I want us moved in by the end of the week." She walks out of the apartment, leaving you to gape after her. After a few minute of processing a smile breaks out on your face. You push off of the window and pick up your purse. You look at your to-do list on your phone. Sell an apartment. Check. All that's left is your interview, Santana and Brittany's wedding, and now moving.
"Easy," you tell yourself as you lock up the apartment. Then you roll your eyes at yourself with a sigh. "I need a vacation."