MONTH 7
"Morning Janice," Santana greeted at her secretary as she walked by her secretary towards her office. The woman looked up from a heap of papers stacked together on her desk.
"Hey, Mrs. Lopez, good morning. Do you want some coffee to be brought up? " Janice asked.
"That would be amazing," Santana smiled. "I knew I hired you for a good reason," she joked.
"You'd be dead if you can't have a secretary like me," Janice fired back a joke at her lady boss. "And by the way, Santana, your meeting with the board members will star in an hour and a half."
"Thanks for reminding me about that Janice," Santana gratefully said and she walked towards her office.
Walking past the glass sliding door towards her own office, Santana caught sight of herself, hair tied up into a bun with an elastic band, her plaid blouse fitted to show off her curves and her boot-cut slack pants that hugged tight around her thighs, to show how petite she is. Santana felt a different feeling, something like she was discovering something unfolding in front of her.
She wasn't that scared, angry cheerleader in her teens who usually used anger as a cover-up for all her feelings and did slushy facials at everyone in hopes that the pained look on her schoolmate's slushy-laden faces would somehow alleviate the pain she was feeling. She wasn't that frustrated, fearful girl who slapped the quarterback for outing her at school. She wasn't that confused girl who was so afraid of life that she broke up with her one true love because of another girl she had seen in the library. She wasn't them. She wasn't the old Santana Lopez. Right now, she was this woman, who was stronger than ever, and happier than what she is. She's Santana Lopez, a businesswoman, a wife, and a soon-to-be mother.
Santana smiled at herself. She had grown up, inevitably.
The Latina moved to her office with efficiency and routine. Janice came up later with a cup of coffee. As Santana accepted the hot drink, her cell phone vibrated and that told her that someone is calling her. And her gut says it's Brittany again.
"Hey, babe..." Santana smiled,even though Brittany can't see her smile and it was Janice who just looked at her knowingly. Janice nodded softly as she politely excused herself and left the room.
"Hey," Brittany talked giddily across the other line. "How's your day."
"Britt, the day hasn't started yet," Santana grinned.
"Did Janice make you a nice cup of coffee?"
"I bet she did. But I want to have your coffee..." Santana said thoughtfully. "The one where every sip a kiss follows."
Santana heard a giggle at the other end of the line. "But, Sanny...you have to be home...I miss you."
"You know for a fact I am working here...right?" Santana said.
"Well, yeah..." Santana could almost hear the pout of her pregnant wife.
"Don't pout there, Britt. Don't worry, I'll come home early and I'll draw you a nice, lovely duck," Santana cooed through the phone. "Okay?"
"Okay," Brittany was back in her giddy voice again. "Make it pink, Sanny! Please!"
"I will, Britt. I will," Santana cleared her throat. "I have a meeting. I'll call you back, okay? I'll ask Quinn to check on you."
There was a shriek that seemed to be a small celebratory and grateful thanks to Santana as she disconnected the call and slipped her phone into the pockets of her pants and she made her way to the conference room. Janice and the other members of the board and department heads were there. Santana usually does the meetings to lay out the next plans for their designs, usually twice in a month or sometimes thrice, depending on the sales stock and the profit they get. They mostly talk about the designs and right now, the design her employees were giving was starting to irritate Santana, but she tried not to show it. She's been very good at trying to control her anger and her mouth now.
"What do you think, Mrs. Lopez?" the guy, presumably the representative at the design department, who presented his design smiled nervously at her. Santana Lopez was known to be drop dead honest and frank when it comes to business, and when Santana Lopez doesn't like it, she says she doesn't like it.
Santana exhaled a little before saying something. "You know what, ladies and gentlemen, we will not have a design to talk about."
Everyone's brow furrowed as they frowned on what Santana had just said.
"I know, you guys might think I am out of my mind, but...didn't you ever put a thought on this?" Santana gestured with her hands. "We all make greeting cards and post cards and write all those words we don't really mean. Do you think anyone wants to send a heartfelt greeting to someone they love when the words were written by some stranger? No, of course not."
"So, Mrs. Lopez, what do you have in mind?" the guy who was presenting his design asked.
"I think we should let the families write to each other," Santana snapped her fingers, her eyes somewhat glinting. "And all we have to do is design it for them."
Murmurs rose in the air. "But, Mrs. Lopez, the investments would totally dwindle," a man in his mid-forties with thick-rimmed glasses looked up to her. Santana knew her.
"I'm pretty sure, it would not, Mr. Fischer," Santana drawled. "I'm sure it won't be. And you know what else I have in my mind?"
"What?" Mr. Fischer said.
"I want to reach more into the bookbinding and book publishing business," Santana smiled smugly. Not only I'll be catering with making invitations and all that crap, I want to print books. That way, we can extend our market."
Murmurs rose again in the air as the board seemed to consider Santana's idea.
"I guess, it would work then," Mr. Fischer leaned sideways.
"Of course, she makes everything work," the man beside Mr. Fischer smiled, rather dreamily. "She does make things work, magically."
Santana smiled a smug smile. She knows that the board will cave in before her. "So guys, what do you think?" Santana smiled.
"I think it's a good idea," the man beside Mr. Fischer said without hesitation. "What about you guys?"
"Thank you Mr. Jacobs," Santana smiled gratefully at the man.
"I think so too," Mr. Fischer agreed reluctantly. He was followed by the majority of the people in the room expressing their agreement on the issue.
"And also, gentlemen," Santana held up a hand. "I find a little baffled that you agreed on my new business venture, but, I am also going to file for a shortened work time. As you all know, my wife has a baby underway and I want to take care of her."
"But, I thought you in this?" Mr. Fischer said.
"Don't worry, Mr. Fischer. I would still be in business. All I ask of you, is that you let me work at home. I will let someone look over the business here."
Everyone's ears perked up at her last sentence, hoping that they will get the promotion. Some seemed to have suddenly sat on the edge of their seats, others seemed to calm and composed, but the occasional closing and opening of their hands told Santana they had suddenly anticipated her next words.
"Well, in case you're wondering who it is, it's Kurt Hummel."
"Kurt Hummel? I heard that name from before..." somebody whimpered.
"Yes, he manages our branches in New York. And apparently, he agreed that he's going to work in Ohio for a while, so I gave him the position."
Santana could see Fischer's face fall, but she brushed it off. Mr. Fischer has been always wanting to get promoted, but Santana owned the company so it seems like the idea of Fischer sitting behind Santana's desk was as close as Rachel Berry growing up to six feet.
"And don't worry about him, he's a nice guy. Other than that, I want you to come to my terms, if that's all okay with you," Santana smiled.
Everyone seemed to be unfazed by the idea that Santana chose none of them to take charge of the company. Everyone – except Brennan Fischer. He reluctantly nodded, though. Santana adjourned the meeting and she walked out of the conference room.
"Hey babe," Santana said through her cell phone once her call had been connected to Brittany. "How are you? Meeting's just done."
"Hey, San!" Brittany said through the line. "Was it good?"
"It was good," Santana said, automatically stopping herself from telling Brittany about her upcoming work leave. "How are you spending your morning so far?"
"It was great," Brittany said, rather dreamily into the phone. "I sat at the veranda for almost two hours..."
There was a pause, like Brittany was waiting for an imaginary drum roll, and Santana could tell that there was something more Brittany wanted to tell her. The Latina leaned back on her desk and waited patiently for Brittany to say it.
"I've made you something," Brittany declared. "It's something special and I made it for you."
"Mmmh," Santana hummed. "I wonder what could it be," she said playfully. "I'll come home earlier so I can see it."
"But, San..." Brittany wailed softly. "It's okay if you come home the usual time. I mean, the surprise can wait."
"I can't wait!" Santana cried giddily inside her office, making Janice rush towards her and she mouthed a 'Brittany' at her secretary. Janice nodded with an understanding smile and walked out of her office.
Their phone call droned on, with Brittany gushing jut about anything and nothing. Santana found it rather cute, though. At around one-thirty on the afternoon, Santana disconnected the call and called for Janice in her intercom. "Janice, I'll be gone for the day. Please forward any calls for me on my phone."
Janice just agreed to do all she asked her to do and let the Latina leave for the day. Santana drove to Lima Heights, only stopping to buy a healthy lunch at a veggie diner and a bouquet of flowers for her wife. She stepped on the accelerator and she whizzed along the hot afternoon sun of Ohio.
The traffic wasn't the usual pain in the ass, since it wasn't the rush hour. Santana made it quick to the the access road that leads to the leafy part of uptown Lima, and with one quick right turn, Santana could see the dark-gray color of their roof.
She could see Brittany sitting on the couch that resembled like a cabana, looking out to the lake, and her back turned away from the window. Santana walked towards her wife, who seemed to take no notice of her arrival.
Brittany was reading a novel with an easy smile on her face as Santana approached her. Quickly, Santana made her presence known to the pregnant blonde. "Hey baby," Santana called.
"Hey, San," Brittany looked up from her book. "You're early today, why?"
"Your fault. You called me about a surprise," Santana said. In her mind, she thought of the song she had sent to the LA recorders and wondered if what could've happened with it. She hoped that it gets accepted.
"Aww," Brittany cooed. "Come on, help me up."
Santana assisted her wife, who was far from bloated up because she was just seven months but Santana was extremely careful, though.
"I made it for you," Brittany held a beautifully knitted bonnet that spelled 'baby mama' on the upfront part. Santana chuckled at the fuzzy threads with a hundred colors in the least.
"I hope you like it," Brittany said shyly.
Santana smiled, her face almost split in half before bending over and kissing her wife chastely on the lips. "I love it very much, Britt."
"I'm glad you love it," Brittany chuckled as she puckered her lips for another kiss to come her way. Santana held on the kiss for a little while, delving into a passionate kiss for her wife.
Santana then pulled away for air and she faced her wife with a smile all the same. "Oh, wait, I got something for you too," Santana smiled and she dashed to retrieve the bouquet of white violets and wild pink roses that she had bought earlier.
Santana hid her face behind the flowers, with the sole purpose of making a cute stance at her wife. She fumbled her way around towards the veranda, where Brittany resumed to her sitting position. She stood in front of Brittany and the blonde giggled at Santana's attempt.
"Aww, you're so cute, San!" Brittany exclaimed. "Someone should take a picture of you!"
"I love you!" Santana said underneath the clump of greens, whites and pinks that was the bouquet.
"Aww, I love you too, honey..." Brittany took the flowers and smelled it involuntarily, something that was her habit and Santana sat on the side of the couch. "You brought them for me?"
"Yeah. I was running home, and I thought you might like a little color," Santana shrugged. "You like to plant some of them someday pretty soon?"
"Yeah, well, maybe after I push Bella out of this constricting mass of tubular muscles, yes I will plant these wild pink roses," Brittany let out a haughty laugh.
"You know, we should eat," Santana smiled.
"I'm still not hungry and Quinn dropped by earlier," Brittany grinned. "We had some yummy stuff with cashew nuts. I'm pretty sure Quinn didn't make me eat something that can be bad for Bella."
"She wouldn't dare. But, I'm kinda hungry, so you wanna eat with me?"
"Are you asking me for lunch, Santana Lopez?" Brittany smiled.
"Hell yes, I am..." Santana grinned like a total doofus.
"I'll have a bunch of grapes, will that be okay?"
"I think so," Santana said thoughtfully, as if she was trying to recall something that had been said to her or something she had read. "Dr. Burns didn't say anything against grapes."
"Don't you think Dr. Burns' name is and improper word for an obstetrician?" Brittany grinned as she looked at Santana. For a moment, Santana didn't answer, because she hasn't caught up with the blonde's question and she really didn't what Brittany meant about her obstetrician's name. Her nose was scrunched up in confusion and her brows were furrowed.
"I mean." Brittany said, trying to explain her point. "I wonder why Dr. Burns was called Dr. Burns. She doesn't even treat burns – she treats pregnant women," Brittany said, and she smiled at Santana's face, which started to brighten up with understanding. "She should be called Dr. Preggy or Dr. Babes or something."
"Britt," Santana smiled. She didn't know Brittany had still gotten confused with last names.
"I'm just kidding," Brittany shrugged. "You should've seen your face. You look funny, with your nose scrunched up a little bit."
Santana just let out a throaty laugh, something that she only does when she's with Brittany, and the laughter prompted Brittany to join in with her wife. It's one of the days when they just laugh and laugh without a real reason - and it seemed to be so impossible for them to laugh. Today wasn't an exception.
For a while, they sat on the couch together, staring at each other and gazing at each other and occasionally smiling at each other. After sometime, Santana stood up to get her wife a bowl of grapes and a cold chicken salad for herself.
They ate side by side, and occasionally Santana said snide and snarky remarks, but nothing really heavy about Brennan Fischer, who, according to Santana had become a total pebble in her shoes. She didn't like the guy very much, and Santana had even had no idea why she kept that lousy excuse for a rat inside her company.
"Why don't you try to make Brennan work a lot more?" Brittany suggested.
"What do you mean, work a lot more?" Santana's brows raised.
"I mean, I think you couldn't appreciate it, because he was a little easy on the job. He's doing something for a job that you yourself would hate. You hate numbers, he does numbers. You should appreciate him," Brittany said out flatly.
"He's putting a dam slack in my business," Santana growled.
"Maybe you should let him go," Brittany said softly.
"I don't know, someone else gets promoted?" Santana shrugged. "Like...Kurt?"
"That would be a good idea, or maybe you relocate him," Brittany suggested. "Put him in assistance with someone you trust."
"Now that you thought of it," Santana smiled. "I'm putting him under Rory Flanagan. That excuse of a green pixie boy better be good," Santana thought, as her mind drifted to the Irish boy who used to be at the receiving end of her snide rantings when she was still in high school, and now this same guy was managing one of the branches in San Francisco – and one of her trusted affiliates as well.
"He's a leprechaun," Brittany said in a sing-song voice. "Leprechaun."
"No, he's a pixie boy," Santana objected. "P-I-X-I-E-B-O-Y, like Tinkerbell."
Brittany grinned sheepishly. "Wow, that's so gay."
"Speaking of gays," Santana smiled as the idea struck her. "Let's crash at Quinn's? Fabgay's having the afternoon off, I know it."
"And Rachel too!" Brittany grinned. Rachel had stopped pursuing the Broadway stages during her early twenties and managed to get a master's degree in Music and she teaches in the University of Columbus. But she had called to check on Brittany earlier and the brunette had slipped to mention that she had the afternoon off.
"I'll call her, if she agrees to never talk or sing about Streisand songs for the whole night," Santana demanded. "After years, Brittany, I still do hate her pathetic excuse for vocals when in truth it sounds like a pterodactyl screech."
"Admit it, Sanny, you love Rachel Berry," Brittany giggled knowingly, because she knows that Santana was just trying to pretend that she hates Berry.
"I hate Rachel from her man hands, to her height, to her bangs, to her head bands and up until her last name," Santana shrugged. "Just being honest."
"You'll call her, won't you?" Brittany smiled.
"Nope. In the words of the great Mercedes Jones, hell to the no," Santana stood up to take the cordless phone and dialed Quinn's number, telling their friend that they were coming for dinner and asked if she wanted to have some groceries and shopping done for her. Although, after disconnecting the call from Quinn, Santana also dialed Rachel's phone number, coaxing the other girl to go and have dinner with them at Quinn's place.
Brittany just grinned, knowing her wife would exactly do just that.
Santana sat beside Brittany again, indulging at the view of the colors of the late summer. The trees on the opposite side of Lima Lake was tinged with yellow, and it gave Santana the feeling of ease. She started to cuddle into her wife.
"I thought we're going to Quinn's?" Brittany said.
"Yeah, in a minute," Santana whispered back. "Can we stay here for a little while, I hate to listen to Quinn calling dibs on the last piece of bacon rolls," Santana half-groaned and half-growled as she tried to straighten up. "And Rachel will fight over that piece of bacon roll because it's was once a helpless animal. And there goes dinner."
Brittany grinned at her wife. "You suck a lot, Santana Lopez."
"Boobies," Santana grinned playfully. "Boobies."
"And a bad, naughty girl, too."
Santana smiled. "And you kinda liked them. You got the hots for 'em." Finally, hoisting herself in a painfully agonizing stroke, Santana stood up from the couch. "Come on, let's get ready. Quinn's expecting us."
"I can't wait," Brittany smiled as she took her loving and nurturing wife's supporting hand. With the strong hands helping her to walk, Brittany was led into the room, where Santana let her sit on the moss green love seat that Santana and Brittany had first picked out at a garage sale in their first apartment in New York, back in their early twenties, where they first moved in a cramped apartment and Santana was still working in a printing press during the day and as a singer at a restaurant at night.
Santana dove into the closet full of maternity dresses and sundresses and she rummaged for the clothes Brittany might like wearing for an afternoon hang-out with her friends.
Santana held out a cream-colored dress and Brittany managed to shake her head. Santana held out another lavender one, but Brittany complained that it would make her look like a whale, so Santana scrawled it off her list. She held another pink one with a halter strap but Brittany said she wouldn't wear it because she'll get a cold if they ever come home late.
Running out of options, Santana held out a cyan-colored dress, with strikingly beautiful patterns running from the hem towards the waistline, and Brittany vigorously nodded her head. When she slipped it on, Santana saw that the dress accentuated her wife's baby bump, but at the same time, it hugged the blonde's curves.
Santana breathed out, and gave Brittany that look she used to give Brittany whenever they were curled up in each other at the back row of the choir room ten or eleven years ago. And every single day after that – Santana can't really recall properly when she had started to look at Brittany like that, perhaps during second year of high school.
Santana dressed in a white sundress and she brought out a jacket for her and her wife if ever they had to come home really late and the night would be a cold one, but that rarely happens in Lima. Brittany was was pulling at her blonde hair, setting it up on a high ponytail, just like the ones she used to don on when she was still a Cheerio and it only made her dark blue eyes more striking.
Santana was tying her hair into a bun as she smiled at her wife's reflection, who also smiled back at her. "Britts, is Rachel still single?"
"Yeah, she's still single," Brittany replied while she was putting a coat of strawberry-flavored lip gloss on her thin, rosy lips.
"Willing to make a bet?" Santana grinned goofily.
"Huh? Well, try me," Brittany quirked a brow as she gave herself one final check at the full-body mirror.
"I bet you ten dollars. Berry is gay," Santana smiled.
"I think Quinn would be the gayer one," Brittany mumbled. "And besides, Rachel never dated girls before. And Quinn is practically a social untouchable. No one can ever get to date her."
"Well, I bet you twenty dollars if Quinn and Rachel are both gay and they both have the hots for each other," Santana cocked her head sideways and raised a perfect brow, telling Brittany that she's confident at her bet that she's gonna win it.
"Twenty dollars then," Brittany smiled. "It's gonna take forever for Rachel to date Quinn, and forever to bend that straighter-than-the-ruler Jew."
"I tell you, Berry is gay," Santana smirked and gave herself a final do. She turned to Brittany after checking herself at the mirror.
"So, let's go collect my twenty dollars then?" Santana winked.
"No, Sanny," Brittany objected. "Let's go collect MY twenty."
A/N: Hey guys, i'm really glad you liked my writing so far, and so far, i haven't had any hateful comments. And for that, I am so glad. This fic actually meant so much more to me than any other fic I had written in the past, because I kind of made this for someone so special and I do hope that through this story, I could tell her how much she means to me.
Yeah, so much for the sappy stuff. Thank you for your time reading. Please leave a review!