"Breadstix?" you ask, picking up one of the infamous breadsticks and snapping it in half.
"Lima's finest," she offers you a smile.
You smile back and after you order your drinks, you ask her what's up.
She just wraps her fingers around her drink and deeply sighs, "I don't know. It's just a lot of things. I have to find an internship soon. And I have to get one in New York because I can't leave Brittany again and there's only one Broadway and you can't be a Broadway choreographer without Broadway."
"And?" you ask. This can't be all that she's stressing over. If that's it Santana usually makes more for herself.
"And she wants to have a kid," Santana states, "Not like right now. But soon and…and I'm not ready. I still have my internship and then a residency where I'll barely have to time to sleep, much less be a good parent to a kid. Then I have my surgical residency and then I'll be like thirty," her eyes get wide, "Isn't that too old to have a kid?"
You smile and shake your head. There's the Santana you know. Freaking the hell out about kids and being thirty. You're surprised she hasn't said anything about her ass yet.
"Oh my god, what if she wants me to have a kid? My ass will get huge."
There it is. Full on Santana panic-mode. You've talked her down enough times to know it when it's coming. "Thirty is not too old to have kids. Your ass may get huge, but you can get it back and how is the valedictorian at Columbia Med not going to get in internship at the best hospital in New York?"
You can see her biting the inside of her cheek, staring hard at her glass of cheap chain restaurant wine. After a sigh she says, looking up at you with her head tilted down, "I can't say no to her forever. Shit, it's a damn miracle that I can say it to her now."
"Look, if its emotional battle, you're going to lose," you tell her. She raises her head and squares her chin listening, "You're an emotional cripple and completely whipped. She's the Einstein of emotions, always knowing what to do and how to handle herself. It's not a fair fight."
"Gee thanks," she leans her head against her palm. She's still looking at you for more input. No matter how well she and Brittany know each other, Santana has always been known to second guess herself and that's exactly what she's doing right now.
"Just reason with her. Tell her that right now you're not financially secure enough to have a child. Neither one of really has time for each other much less a kid," you state. "You just got married. Enjoy that."
"You reason with her. She bats her eyelashes at me and I fucking forget my own damn name," Santana hangs her head.
You shrug, why not? "I'll talk to her."
"Awesome," Santana perks up and grins, "You're the best Q."
You narrow your eyes at her and think that you've just been played. Santana loves to make you do her dirty work and you think you just got conned into it again. But before you can call her out she adds, "Did you see the paparazzi pics of Rachel and that hunky handyman? It's a good thing she learned to dress herself since high school."
"Yeah," you nod. You sit back as your food arrives. After you both dig in, you ask, "They were at a jewelry store, looking at rings. What do you think that's all about?"
Santana quirks an eyebrow, "They were picking up my wife's newly fixed ring. One of the prongs got bent while she was trying to teach me how to ride a dirt bike."
"Oh," you look down at your pasta. That makes sense. You look back at Santana to tell her how funny the picture in your mind is of her trying to ride a dirt bike. But her look stops you. There's a sinister grin on her face.
"Oh my god Q," she looks across the table at you with knowing eyes that make you nervous, "You want her to ask you to marry her."
"No," you immediately answer. You don't want to be that girl that perpetually waiting for her significant other to ask them to marry her. You don't want to be the girl that wants to get married after a little more than six months of dating. You don't want to be that girl. You desperately don't want to be that girl.
But the smile on Santana's face is telling. You're that girl. You just got out of a damn marriage and now you want to jump into another one. Except this is actually one you've been wanting since, what freshman year of high school? But still. You're one of those girls. It's gross.
"Aww," she mocks you, pressing her hand to her chest and looking at the ceiling, "That is so cute."
"Fuck you," you roll your eyes and take a sip of your drink to buy yourself some time, "It's too soon."
"Damn right it is," Santana nods affirmatively, dropping the fake sweetness.
Okay, you know you just said it and she's just agreeing with you, but she didn't have to agree that quickly or that adamantly, "What does that mean?"
She folds her arms on the table and leans forward accepting your challenge. "It means that you've been dating if however long…you haven't even been divorced for a year. You need to cool it on the marriage thing."
"Who cares?" you ask back. "If I want to get married the day after I get divorced, I can."
Santana throws her head back in a laugh, "You so do want to get married."
"Shut the fuck up," you growl at her. Stupid Santana and her word traps. You stepped right into it and she nailed your ass to the wall.
Eventually you get her to drop it, but you swear her to secrecy not that that usually works.
She's very nice the rest of the dinner. She even orders you desert and picks up the check. There are times when you know what Brittany sees all the time. When she trusts you and isn't in a bad mood, Santana can be sweet.
She walks you to the front door and thanks you for having dinner with her. You tell her to say hi to Brittany for you. She gives you a hug and walks back to her car.
You go inside and head to bed. Rachel's coming in tomorrow and you don't want to look tired.
When you wake up you spend some quality time with your sister. You talk to her about her divorce which she talks about like a business transaction. She jokes that now she actually gets to use her MBA now instead of sitting around all day being a housewife, drinking wine and watching Days Of Our Lives.
You keep meticulous track of the time. They're supposed to arrive at two in the afternoon, but their flight gets delayed because of bad weather at LaGuardia. Rachel and Ethan arrive four hours late. She texts you when they land and tells you that she'll be over after she drops off her luggage at her dad's house. You can't help, but be ridiculously excited to see her. You want to run out onto the front porch and leap down the stairs into her arms. Then you look down at what you're wearing. Black sweatpants and an old Cheerio hoodie. Not appealing.
So you run upstairs and quickly change into something more socially acceptable even though Rachel has seen you in every state of clothing and even Ethan has definitely seen you in sweats, but you haven't see Rachel in almost four days and you feel the need to impress her.
"You can stop fixing your hair," you sister says as she passes your door on the way downstairs, "She already lives with you."
You know she's right, but you're Quinn Fabray damn it and when it comes to Rachel there is no logic. You shake your hair out and follow your sister down the stairs. For someone who is getting a divorce she looks great.
"Are the conjoined twins coming to Zot Hanukuh dinner?"
"You and mom are really serious about this Hanukuh thing huh?" you ask.
She shrugs, "Why not? We're doing Christmas too by the way and as soon as the Menorah comes down I'm putting up a tree. Conjoined twins?"
"They're not twins," you state, "But I won't argue with you about the conjoined part. I'll text them and see." You shoot a quick text to Brittany and Santana before walking into the kitchen where your mother is baking something that smells amazing.
"Oh mom, what's that?" Frannie says walking in behind you.
"I made an apple pie, a vegan pumpkin pie and some carob chip cookies," your mom smiles with an oven mitt on both hands. If you saw this on your mother before your sophomore year of high school you would have thought you were in the wrong house, but apparently she was a dormant stepford mom because as soon as your dad was gone, she became a supportive, loving, baking and cooking picture of a 1950s mother.
"What are carob chip cookies?" Frannie asks, walking over to the pan and picking one up.
Your mom slaps her hand, but doesn't make her put it down. You decide to answer for her, "It's a vegan substitute for chocolate."
"Jesus why don't you just move in with Quinn and Rachel and you can both drool over her," Frannie quirks an eyebrow at your mom.
She just laughs and puts her hand on your sister's shoulder, "I made you your apple pie honey. I just want Rachel to feel comfortable."
There's a knock on the front door and Frannie grabs your arm before you walk out of the kitchen to get it. "Uh sis you're hair it just…" she trails off as she messes up your hair the best she can in the few seconds she gets before you run off.
When you open the door, Rachel dives into your arms before you can even say hi. Ethan is standing behind her holding the bag and laughing to himself.
After you get a few kisses in, you and Rachel lead Ethan into the kitchen. The second you walk in Rachel ditches you for the carob chip cookies. You smile when she shoots you a loving grin. Then you introduce Ethan to your mother and your sister.
After a few hours of catching Rachel up on everything and your mom and sister getting to know Ethan, (your sister especially), you and Rachel are left in the living room while everyone else goes into the kitchen to see what's for dinner.
Rachel pushes you back onto the couch and collapses on top of you. "I'm not really going to have to sleep by myself again tonight am I?" she brushes her cheek against yours and kisses your neck, in the loving, innocent way you've come to love.
You shift your body so she fits better and so your bodies are fully flush. You run your fingers through her hair and kiss her head, "I'm sorry."
"I understand. I'd stay with you if we didn't bring Ethan. Divorce is a hard time."
You take a deep breath, "Yeah."
"I don't like sleeping at home without you," she rubs your stomach.
"Did you sleep somewhere else?"
"No, but I held your pillow all night."
"Aww. You're so cute."
"And Sexy."
"So sexy."
She sits up a little and lays her head back on the couch cushion, "How was dinner with Santana?"
"Oh I just had to talk her down. Britt wants babies."
"Really? Already?"
"Britt's wanted a baby since I can remember. Santana used to give her all of her baby dolls."
"Aww. Did their parents ever figure they'd end up together?"
"I'm sure. I never did get to know their parents really well. My dad didn't like Santana's parents because they were more successfully and educated. He didn't like Brittany's parents because they were hippie foreigners who let Brittany express herself all the time." You offer Rachel a smile and she rewards you with a peck on the lips.
"Hey!" your sister calls, "Keep it PG. There are elderly people in this house." She walks in and plops down on the armchair.
"I heard that!" your mom calls from the kitchen.
Must to your distaste, Rachel does get off of you. She stands up and look around. She's never really gotten a chance to look around your childhood house before. You get up and follow her around the living room and into the den.
"How fun was it to grow up in this house?" Rachel smiles at you with wide eyes. She's looking around at all the little storage spaces and hiding places. "I bet you and Frannie had the best games of hide and seek."
You force a smile and nod, turning away from her before she can see that it wasn't real. This house was a fun place to live, but only a few weeks out of the year when your father was out of town on business. Your mom would make cookies and camp out with you and Frannie in the living room under tents made of sheets and dining room chairs. Then you'd all wake up in the morning and eat pancakes and do each other's nails. It's honestly the most fun you've ever had in this house.
You bite your lip wondering how your mom lives here day in and day out, alone. You don't want her to be alone. You run a hand through your hair and walk over to a bookcase that now houses your mom's vast collection of romance novels. There used to be a picture of her and your father at their wedding sitting up on the third shelf. You can still see it there, even though it's probably in a box somewhere in the attic.
"Girls?" your mom walks in from the kitchen with a smile on her face, "Dinner is ready." Frannie gets up and walks into the kitchen. Your looks from Rachel to you where her face falls. You bring her hand to your cheeks to make sure you weren't crying before ducking your head.
"I'll be there in a minute," you tell her and make a quick dash out onto the front porch.
You're lowering yourself down onto the top porch step when the door clatters open and shut again. "Quinn?"
You can see the breath of your exhale in the cold, "I just need a minute. Alone."
For a moment, there's no sound. You know that Rachel is frozen in place. You've never rebuffed her comfort before. In fact you usually initiate it, but you just….need a minute. Her voice is quiet when she tells you, "Okay, I'll be inside if you need me okay?"
You just nod and rest your forehead on your knees. The door squeaks open and silently closes. You don't know what's wrong with you. It's the holidays. You're not supposed to be depressed.
The door opens again and there are purposeful steps toward you. You don't lift your head and you don't have to, to know that your mother just sat down next to you. You can smell her perfume.
"What's wrong honey?" she asks with a hand on your back.
You shrug, "I dunno."
Her arm moves to cradle your back and she pulls you into her. Your rest your head on her shoulder like you've been doing your whole life. You can't bite back the question before it comes out, "Are you lonely?"
She takes a moment to answer, but when she does, it's simple and finite. "No."
"Really?" you sigh.
"Okay sometimes," she says, "But rarely. I have wonderful, wonderful friends. Steve and Eliot are the best friends anyone could ever ask for. I've been on a few dates, but I'm not in any rush. I'm having fun."
You look up at the graying sky, "I worry about you, you know?"
"I worry about you too."
"Is Frannie lonely? I feel bad for…having Rachel and she's going through this divorce and you're…"
"Never feel bad for being with Rachel," she rubs your arm. "Rachel's lovely and I couldn't have selected a better mate for you. She's part of the family now and your sister and I are happy for you."
"But I do and I know I shouldn't, but I do," you sniffle trying to fight tears. "I love her so much and I think I think I always have…and now you and Frannie are…"
"Alone?" your mom asks with a caring smile, "Honey, we're not alone. We have friends and we have each other and we have you and by extension we have Rachel. And we have Rachel's dads. Your relationship with her doubled our family.
You let out a long sigh and wait for a car to slowly drive by, the cracks of the ice on the road giving way. Another exhale and the crystals of your breath float through the air before disappearing.
After a moment your mom asks, "Are you trying to find something wrong with that lovely girl in there?"
"No...maybe...yeah I guess." You close your eyes, just enjoying your mom's arms around you.
"Well news flash. There's nothing wrong with Rachel."
Your face dons the faintest hint of a smile, "Don't I know it?"
"I think you do. I think you're doing that thing that you do."
"What thing?"
"Trying to stop yourself from being happy." She squeezes you, "I know I'm sorry that I allowed your father to teach you that you're not allowed to be happy. There are actually a lot of things I'm sorry for about when it comes to him and you girls, but you're happy now and I can see it and I know you know it. Don't mess it up. Rachel's a great girl."
"I know." You sigh. You feel bad for sending her away earlier.
"It's freezing out here," your mom stands up and offers you her hands. When she pulls you up she hugs you and kisses the side of your head, "I love you."
"Love you too," you mumble and follow her inside.
When you walk into the dining room, Rachel is pouring Frannie a glass of wine. She looks to you with worried eyes. She doesn't have to ask out loud to know she wants to know if you're okay. You give her a genuine smile and kiss her cheek before pulling her chair out for her.
Dinner goes great. Ethan gets along famously with your family. He seems rapt with everything Frannie says and you get a little suspicious when she touches his arm as they laugh about some little snickered joke on their side of the table.
Your mom catches your eyes and subtly jerks her head toward Frannie and Ethan with a joyous smile on her face. You just smile and shake your head. Then you look at Rachel who has a smug smile on her face. And it wouldn't surprise you if she planned the whole thing, the little evil, midget mastermind.
After dinner, Ethan volunteers to clean up and along with Frannie they start to clean the dining room. Your mom excuses herself to make a phone call and you and Rachel go to the den again, sitting on the couch again.
You rest your lips on her shoulder and apologize for sending her away earlier.
She kisses your forehead, "It's fine sweetie. I understand that sometimes you need some alone time. Just next time try to not need alone time after I've been away from you for so long."
You melt at her words and wrap your arms around her. "I love you."
"I love you too," she kisses you slowly, savoring every second of like you haven't seen each other in weeks instead of days.
When she breaks the kiss, she smile so lovingly at you, you can feel your legs get weak and when she rests her head on your shoulder you're content.
You both watch Ethan and Frannie move around the kitchen for a few minutes. They keep blatantly flirting and it makes you smile to see your sister back to her old, pre-marriage self.
"Look how well they're getting along," Rachel sighs, "This is so perfect. It's a Hanukah miracle."
You laugh and hope that she was kidding about that last part.
"Now we need to get your mom and sister to move to New York, my dads can follow and we can holiday with everyone on Lake George," she lets out a content, dramatic sigh, "And life will be perfect."
You look her over and find that she's not joking in the least. Her eyes are serious they finally flicker to you. "Wow," you breathe.
"Your mom can meet a sensitive writer who is a hopeless romantics and lives on the lake for inspiration and we can have our wed…parties on the lake at sunset with all of our families and friends," she looks at you with a faint smile. Her eyes are completely sincere and you wonder when she had time to plan this all out. "Wouldn't it be nice to not have to get on a plane to see our families. It takes four hours to get to Lake George from Brooklyn."
You furrow your eyebrows and trail your finger along skin of her arm. "Who lives in Brooklyn?"
"Well no one. I just didn't want to add the extra time it would take us to get from Manhattan, out of the city. I'm trying to make this appealing to you so you'll help me sell it. The holidays always make me miss my dads and I realize when you were in Vancouver that you may be gone for long periods of time with promoting and maybe movies. I want my dads close and the only way to get them there is to move their best friend, Judy, to New York and the only way to get Judy there is to get Frannie there."
"You really want my mom and sister within driving distance of us?" you joke, but the more she talks about it, the better it sounds.
"Badly," she states, her smile faded to nothing.
You look her over and realize that she almost looks sad. You dip your torso down so you can get a better hold of her. Once your arms are wrapped around her, you kiss her head, "Okay, we'll talk to them."
"Really?" she whispers.
"Of course," you rub her arm and rest your head against hers.