Thankfully, Santana had plenty to keep her mind off of their impending camping trip. Talk shows and interviews that the label insisted were necessary for maximum album sales, and Emma insisted were necessary to reconnect with the fans Santana had alienated herself from over the last six years. Santana liked Emma's reasoning better.
So towards the end of April she found herself flying frequently to L.A and New York to go on radio talk shows and live audience talk shows and the ones that she despised even at the height of her career, where she sat in a hotel room all day and different interviewers from magazines and blog sites would rotate in and out.
Emma always made sure she was gone for the shortest time possible, usually only one night, but Santana took full advantage of it. When in L.A, she stayed with Mercedes, rather than at her house, fawning over the two month old baby, Ava, they'd named her. She looked like a giant to Santana, who was coming off the tiny preemie that was Addison.
"How is Quinn doing?" Mercedes asked on her second visit there. Santana barely looked up from the baby in her arms.
"She's good."
"Yeah?"
Santana nodded.
"That's good." Santana could hear the relief in Mercedes' voice. "I called her a couple of times, but I feel kind of bad…"
Ava was almost asleep, wrapped snuggly in her fluffy yellow blanket, slowly sucking on a pacifier and looking up at Santana. Santana had started gently smoothing her finger along her hairline and over her tiny eyebrows, something she used to do with Jesús and Kyler. It seemed to be helping her fall asleep. It was kind of mesmerizing to watch her eyes lazily blink every few seconds.
"Santana!"
"What?" Santana looked up.
"I know my baby is adorable, but I'm trying to talk to you."
"Sorry." Santana shifted, focusing her attention back on Mercedes. Ava let out a long sigh, the small sound one of the cutest she had ever heard. "I don't think she wants me to talk to you."
Mercedes chuckled. "Try and resist."
Placing a soft kiss on Ava's head, Santana gave a quick nod.
"Okay I'm listening. What did you say?"
"I spoke to her a few times, but I don't really know. You can only get so much over the phone."
"True."
"And I've been feeling a little guilty."
Santana frowned. "Why?"
Mercedes' eyes flicked down to the baby in Santana's arms, but she didn't answer. She pursed her lips and slowly shook her head.
"Because your baby didn't almost die?"
Mercedes seemed relieved that she didn't have to say it.
"Yeah." She said quietly. "And neither did I. Sean and I checked into the hospital the day before, I had a really nice room to myself and they gave me the epidural long before I was in any real pain. It was easy. Took about six hours, and I had her in my arms immediately she was born. Sean got to cut the chord. It was easy."
"That's a good thing." Santana said.
"I know…but…It feels a little like I shouldn't call her. Like I'd be rubbing it in."
"Oh please." Santana rolled her eyes. "Mercedes I'm gonna be real with you, and I'm holding your baby so please remember that I love you."
"Okay?" Mercedes said warily.
"Quinn's got too much on her mind to think about you. She's not thinking about your healthy baby or easy delivery or the fact that you're at home and she's stuck in the hospital. She hasn't spared you a thought, I can promise you that, and you avoiding her because of some crazy guilt you've cooked up is really self-obsessed if you ask me."
Mercedes gaped at her.
"I'm just keeping it real." Santana shrugged.
"You could be nice about it." Mercedes mumbled.
"When have I ever sugar-coated the truth?"
"Fine. So how is she then? Really?"
"It's hard on her." Santana said. "Being stuck in bed, only allowed to move around with supervision, not allowed to carry her baby and having to watch her leave every evening, it's hard on her."
Again, Mercedes looked down at Ava.
"I can't imagine."
"But she's filling her time with wedding planning, ordering us all around, and Brittany does a good job of distracting her."
"She would." Mercedes chuckled, looking less tense. "Oh man, thank god she's alive though."
"Amen to that." Santana said seriously.
"How close was it?"
Santana thought back to the blood that had soaked the couch in the hotel room, and the panicked look in the paramedics eyes once they realised what was happening, and the way the doctor had told them to prepare themselves for the worst.
"Too close." She said with a somber head shake.
"Well." Mercedes took a bracing breath. "She's fine. And I think we'll be able to make the wedding." She said, with a much lighter tone. "Ava will be nearly four months old, and I'm feeling a lot stronger. I think I can make it."
"She'll be really happy to see you."
Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "Even though she hasn't spared me a thought?"
Santana smirked playfully.
"She'll remember who you are when she sees you."
"Whatever," Mercedes pushed off the couch. "Give me my baby, I need to put her down."
"But she's with Aunty Tana." Santana said, pulling the baby closer to her.
"We don't want her getting used to being asleep in our arms, cause otherwise she'll never sleep in the crib."
Santana remembered the mistake she and Brittany had made when they brought the twins back from Brazil and they'd carried them around all the time. It had backfired quickly.
"Fine." She said, leaning down and placing several kisses on the plump cheek of the now asleep baby. "Ava I want you to know that I'm not giving you away, your mum is taking you."
"Oh my god, give her here." Mercedes laughed. Santana reluctantly gave her the baby. "Don't worry. Nathan will be up in an hour. He'll be happy to keep you company."
"I'm counting the minutes."
When she was in New York, Santana visited Kurt and Blaine. Given a choice she wouldn't have stayed with them, but Kurt had heard from Mercedes that Santana was staying at her house, so he'd called Santana, excited for her stay with him. There was no way to refuse without it sounding like she was more comfortable around Mercedes than she was around Kurt, which she was, but that wasn't his fault.
So when she arrived in New York, she and Eve made their way to a clearly excited Kurt, waving boisterously at them. Santana hugged him quickly, but spoke before he could greet her.
"Where's your car?"
Thankfully, Kurt didn't seem offended. He merely looped his arm through hers, his free hand grabbing her small suitcase and led them to his car. It was weird that he had a car, considering this was New York, but Santana kept that to herself. All of Santana's appearances were clearly having the intended effect, because since she started them, fans were noticing her more and more. Brittany had suggested that it wasn't that fans hadn't been noticing Santana before, but that they actually cared now. Either way, Santana could already see a few people staring at her, and she knew it wouldn't be long until phones came out and they started asking for autographs.
She didn't relax until they got to Kurt's car.
"Worried about the paps?" Kurt asked as he climbed into the driver's seat.
"Not just the paparazzi." Santana said, eyeing the small group of people standing by her window. One girl waved at her, so she dutifully waved back, but glanced at Kurt. "Can you drive?"
"On it." Kurt chuckled, carefully pulling out of his parking space.
"That was well handled Santana." Eve commented from the backseat.
"Why thank you."
"All she did was walk to a car."
"With purpose, but without ignoring the fans."
"I smiled and waved and everything." Santana said proudly.
Kurt shook his head, smiling in amusement, but didn't speak.
"So." Santana turned slightly in her seat so she was facing Kurt. "How are things on the East Coast?"
"Oh you know." He shrugged. "Fabulous as ever."
"I assume you're referring to your store?"
"Why do you assume that?"
Santana laughed. "Fair enough." This was Kurt after all, "but how is your store?"
"Doing really well." Kurt said with a proud nod. "I haven't been asked to dress anyone for the Met yet but that failure aside…"
"I have no doubt you will one day."
Kurt's eyes widened. "Did you get invited?" He asked in a shrill voice. "Are you asking me to dress you?!"
"No, no!" Santana held out a hand to calm him down. "I didn't get invited Kurt. Have you forgotten that I've been in retirement for six years?"
"Yeah but your great comeback would cause so much fanfare if you also appeared last minute at the Met Gala."
"Well." Santana shrugged. "Unfortunately I didn't get an invitation."
Kurt's shoulders slumped. "You will next year." He said as if to console her. "And when you do I will be your first call, yes?" He raised an accusatory eyebrow.
"Sure Kurt." Santana nodded, knowing full well that even if the invitation came she would not be attending the Met Gala next year or any year in the foreseeable future.
"Good." Kurt nodded happily. "Well the store's doing good. I'm saving up to buy a space, so I don't have to pay rent anymore, but sales are good enough that I can somehow still afford to rent a commercial space."
"And in overpriced New York that's saying something." Santana said.
"No kidding." Kurt said. "Thank god for the internet."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, most of our sales are from the website. I hired a…what do they call it…" He pursed his lips. "Digital media…marketing…something." He waved a hand dismissively. "Someone who posts our business all over social media."
"Ah." Santana nodded in understanding. "It's a miracle what social media can do isn't it?" She turned to Eve with a smirk. Eve just smiled innocently.
Eve handled the professional side to Santana's social media. She posted things like tour dates and behind the scenes in the studio or interview snippets. Basically she did what she could to market Santana.
"When I'm allowed to use it." Eve said quietly. Santana laughed.
"Santana, are you still giving dear Eve a hard time." Kurt said disapprovingly, stopping as traffic built up ahead of them. "Eve, you've got to get out of this toxic relationship girl. She's never going to change, and you deserve better."
"Shut up." Santana laughed, gently shoving Kurt's arm. "I'm a great boss."
"Listen, if you need a way out," Kurt continued, "I can promise you a job with me."
"Are you trying to poach her?"
"I can treat you right." Kurt said. "Listen to queen Gaga."
"What?" Eve asked with a quizzically furrowed brow.
"Now it's time to free me from the shame, I gotta find that peace, is it too late?" He sang loudly. Santana rolled her eyes, sharing an amused look with Eve. "I can tell you, it's not too late Eve."
"I'll keep that in mind." Eve laughed. "But Santana really is a great boss."
"Damn right." Santana said smugly.
"She has to say that." The car inched forward with the traffic. "You pay her."
"Doesn't make it not true."
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Moving on." He said. "How are the little Lopierces?" But before Santana could answer, he let out a loud gasp, his hand flying out to grip Santana's arm. "How is the little Fabray?" He asked with wide eyes.
Santana would never be able to wrap her mind around the way Kurt was able to make anything feel like gossip.
"She's good." She said. "Adorably tiny."
"Aaw." Kurt let her go, gripping the steering wheel once more. "Thank god."
"Yeah."
"She was in the tabloids last week, arriving in style like a true diva." He nodded proudly, "but they haven't said how she's doing."
It came as a surprise to Santana that Quinn had been in the tabloids. She couldn't understand why anyone would care, but she was also aware that they probably wouldn't have cared before she did her pre-album tour.
"Why didn't you just call Quinn yourself?"
Kurt shrugged.
"I wanted to give her some space, not offload my worry onto her when I didn't even really know what had happened."
Santana had to fight the urge to role her eyes again. The two biggest gossips she had ever known in her life yet both of them too scared to call their friend to ask her how she was.
"I texted Brittany, she told me that everyone was at least going to be okay."
"They are." Santana nodded. "Addy got discharged last week, Quinn's still waiting to get sent home."
"But she's out of the woods?"
"Yeah. It's just her blood pressure's still a bit too high for her doctor's liking."
"Quinn's always been high strung." Kurt laughed.
"I tried to tell them." Santana grinned.
"And how are your kids?"
"They're good. Brittany's always crying about how big they're getting. Mateo lost a tooth, and another one's already shaking."
"Wow." Kurt's eyebrows rose. "I need to come visit before they get too old to remember me. Last time I saw them Sophia had just taken out her last tooth I think."
"No Sophia and Kyler still have two premolars to get out. Only Jesús has lost all his teeth."
"Oh right. So I better make it before they lose those, otherwise they'll think I don't care. I missed Jesús' maybe I'll bring him a gift. Do kids get gifts for losing teeth?"
Santana frowned slightly. Kurt being interested in her kids wasn't inherently suspicious, but the way he was talking, like he failed them somehow, felt like it had little to do with him missing them.
"Kurt." She said, waiting for him to look at her before continuing. "How are things with you?"
The look in his eyes told her he'd been hoping she'd ask.
"Hard." He admitted.
"What's wrong?"
Kurt was silent for a while, staring out of the mirror at the stationary car in front of them, as if trying to decide how to say whatever was on his mind.
Santana decided to help him.
"You've been fostering Jake for four months now right?"
"Almost." He nodded.
"And he's four?"
"Five."
"Oh almost Mateo's age. He must be bouncing off the walls."
Kurt slowly shook his head. "No, he isn't."
"No?"
"He just sits…just sits there."
Santana frowned. "What do you mean?"
"He doesn't play, he doesn't want to go out…we tried to take him to the parks, to playgrounds but he doesn't play. He doesn't like it."
A five year old who didn't like to play. Santana had never met this boy but she was pretty sure that wasn't the case.
"So what does he like?" She asked. Kurt shrugged helplessly, finally looking at her.
"He does whatever we tell him to do. If we put on the tv he watches it, and he can watch for hours, but if we switch the tv off his won't complain, just sits there and waits for us to tell him what to do next."
"What about in school? He doesn't play there either?"
Kurt shook his head.
"His teacher said he follows the other kids outside, but doesn't really play with anyone. He'll play in the sand pit or something until recess is over."
"Hhmm."
Santana was pretty sure that was a lack of friends rather than a lack of interest in playing, but she would wait until she'd actually spent some time with Jake before making that decision.
"He hates us."
"What?" Her head snapped towards him.
"He doesn't' talk to us." Kurt cried. "Blaine's tried everything to make him laugh, but he never does. He only talks when he's answering a question we've asked him, he doesn't tell us anything about his days at school except that their 'good.'" He used two fingers to air quote. "It's been four months! He hates us."
Santana sighed, pressing her lips together sympathetically.
"Kurt." She said. "The foster system is…" She licked her lips as she thought of the best way to describe it. "Flawed." She finally said. "Some kids are lucky, and they get fostered by really great families that eventually adopt them, but others aren't. Other kids get put into homes where they're beaten or neglected. You don't know if Jake was one of those kids. He could be too scared to really be himself, scared to piss you off. He could have learned that if he just sat still and kept quiet then he never got in trouble. He could be worried that if he does anything that you didn't specifically ask him to do, then you won't want to keep him, so he's just trying to be the best kid possible so you like him."
A look of guilt crossed Kurt's face.
"I never thought about it like that."
"Yeah, I know." Santana assured. "Look you don't know anything about Jake and what he's been through. You could be right, and he could hate you, but that could be because he thinks you're the reason he can't be with his parents. Do you know anything about his parents?"
Kurt shook his head. "Not really. I think they were living in a pretty rough neighborhood, but CPS said he'd been living alone for what seemed like months. No sign of the parents when they took him"
Santana's heart stung, thinking about Mateo living on his own, trying to find food, putting himself to bed. There was an unexpected rise of emotions in her chest that had her on the verge of tears, but she shook them off. Mateo was fine, at home with Brittany, and Jake was safe with Kurt and Blaine now.
But he was hardly the only kid living like that, she knew that.
"Just try remember that he's scared, and he doesn't know you and he has no reason to trust you. Everyone in his life up until this point has let him down, so he's adapted. All you can be is consistent, and hopefully he'll realise you're not going anywhere."
"How do we do that?" Kurt asked, looking genuinely lost.
Santana thought for a moment, remembering when Sophia first came to them and how scared she'd been. She and Brittany had needed to really go beyond just taking care of her. It wasn't about just making sure she was fed and had clothes and was safe, it was about healing her trauma. Letting her sleep in their bed and making sure one of them was with her when she woke up, always being aware of their tone and body language, holding her as often and for as long as she needed, no matter how tired they were or whatever else they needed to be doing.
"Maybe set a routine." She said. "I mean I don't know him, obviously, but at the very least having a routine he can rely on will get him to settle in and trust you."
"So like waking him up at the same time, going to school, coming home, all that?"
"Yeah." Santana nodded. "But it's not just about making sure he does the same stuff everyday, it's making sure you're there. There when he wakes up, when he gets out of school-"
"We can't always be there right when he gets out…we have work."
Santana fixed Kurt with a serious stare, wanting him to understand that she wasn't joking and on this there was no room for debate.
"Make the effort." She said evenly.
"It's not like we make him wait hours. It's just that two fifteen is a really inconvenient time to just leave work."
"For you it's just a few minutes, for him he might spend every minute wondering if a social worker will be the one to come get him, or maybe thinking that you forgot him altogether." Kurt's eyes widened in horror.
"Parenting isn't something you do in your free time Kurt, and if you don't really want to commit, then don't complain that you don't have a connection with your son. It'll be your own fault."
Kurt let out a heavy sigh.
"Yeah." He said. "You're right.
"Keep showing up for him, eventually he'll let you in."
It took them over an hour to get to Kurt and Blaine's apartment from the airport, detouring to drop Eve at her hotel. Santana was fighting off a bad mood at this point, having forgotten how bad New York traffic was. Another reason staying at a hotel would have been ideal; she wouldn't have to be a good guest. She could have simply checked in, gone to her room and locked herself away from society for hours until she felt more civil.
As it was, she was taking the stairs, the stairs, up to the fourth floor with Kurt.
"Why don't you have an elevator Kurt?" Santana whined, dragging her suitcase noisily behind her. She hadn't even bothered to try carry it as soon as she'd heard they were walking.
"Give me that." Kurt said, snatching the suitcase from her. Santana didn't resist, glad to be rid of the extra weight.
"Aren't you and Blaine like…" She paused, her words catching up with her as she realised that she actually had no idea how much money Kurt and Blaine made. Kurt's clothing store was doing well, according to him, but it was only one store, in a city with what must be hundreds of stores. As for Blaine, from what Santana could remember, he spent most of his time acting off-Broadway, and though he did seem to always be involved in one thing or another, Santana knew that meant he was in no way a millionaire. "Never mind." She said, deciding to keep her question about why they couldn't afford a place with an elevator to herself.
"It's an old building." Kurt said, seeming to guess her question. "We decided we liked it enough to climb four flights."
"I see you Kurtsy." Santana said as they finally got to the fourth floor. "You wanted to make sure Blaine never went back to hoarding fat."
"Santana!" Kurt shrieked.
"What?" Santana frowned. "I was there, I can say that."
"No you can't." Despite being clearly offended, Santana could see the amusement in Kurt's eyes. "He's very sensitive about the time he was…"
Santana raised her eyebrows, having to fight a laugh as Kurt trailed off.
"You know…"
"Imitating an elephant seal?"
"Santana!"
Santana rolled her eyes, feeling her heart rate finally slow down. "Kurt your husband was fat for a while, so what?"
"He doesn't like to be reminded."
"Did you love him less because he was fat?"
"What?" Kurt gasped. "No!"
"Do you think being fat makes you unattracti-"
"No!"
"Then what's the problem? Telling me I shouldn't mention a time when he added a few pounds makes it something he should be embarrassed about, and that's body shaming."
As Kurt sputtered, trying to defend himself, Santana simply crossed her arms over her chest and smirked.
"You're evil." Kurt finally said.
"You love me." Santana said. "Now can we please go sit down before my feet start killing me?"
"Your highness." He bowed, pulling the door open for her.
Santana tilted her chin up haughtily, straightened her back and walked through.
Jake was a basically the same size as Mateo, in fact Santana would have said they were the same size if Jake hadn't stood up when Blaine told him to come greet her and she noticed that he was several inches shorter than Mateo. Santana could see the apprehension in his eyes as he walked steadily towards her. She wondered if Kurt or Blaine could see it, but if they did, they did nothing about it. She wanted to pick the poor boy up and hold him securely and tell him everything was okay, but she knew that would not reassure him at all. So instead she lowered into a squat so she was at least eye level.
His eyes were brown, matching his chestnut hair.
"Hi." She smiled. "I'm Santana."
"Okay." He said in a quiet voice. "Do I have to go with you?"
"What?" Kurt asked, so loud compared to Jake's soft that Santana actually flinched. She noticed Jake flinch as well.
"No." Santana said, ignoring her friends and addressing Jake. "I'm not a social worker, I'm just a friend."
"Okay." He said again, then he glanced quickly at Blaine and Santana could see him remember that Blaine had told him to say hi. "Hi."
Santana giggled, nodding.
"Hi." Her eyes drifted to the tv as someone blew a loud horn. She kept her focus on the tv long enough for her to be sure Jake was also watching, then she leaned closer to him and whispered, "do you think I can watch some tv?"
He nodded, turning to walk back to the living room.
"Come with me."
As he walked off, Santana straightened, her feet and back complaining that she still hadn't taken off her heels. Blaine was beaming at her.
"That was sweet." He said, pulling her into a hug.
"You were so good with him." Kurt said thoughtfully.
"Yeah well." She shrugged off her jacket and handed it to Kurt. "Maybe that's because my voice isn't so annoyingly shrill."
Kurt's cheeks pinked as Blaine chuckled.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a tv show to watch."
She would have no hope of removing her heels without sitting down, so best to do it on the couch.
Jake watched her movements as she undid the straps on each heel, but he didn't comment, so neither did Santana. She let out a relieved sigh when her feet were free.
"Never let anyone trick you into wearing these." She told Jake, tossing her shoes beside the couch.
His eyes widened, glancing from the shoes to Kurt and Blaine, who had disappeared into the kitchen.
"Don't worry." Santana whispered conspiratorially. "Aunty Tana is the boss of everyone." He still looked skeptical, so Santana decided to show him. "Watch this. Blaine Warbler!" She yelled.
A few seconds later, Blaine walked into the living room.
"You bellowed?" He asked, with a fond smile.
"What's a girl got to do to get fed around here?"
"You're hungry? I could make you something, it's almost dinner anyway."
"That would be great. Make something for me and my pal here." She turned and winked at Jake, feeling immense pride when he smiled, small as it was.
"You got it." Blaine said happily.
"Oh, oh!" She snapped her fingers to call him back before he could disappear again. "My shoes please….I'm just too tired from climbing aaaall thooooosee staaairs." She groaned.
"Santana it was four flights." They heard Kurt call from the kitchen.
"Four too many." Santana called back.
"Don't worry." Blaine laughed, walking up and picking her heels. "I'll put them away."
"Don't encourage her." Kurt said. "She'll take advantage of you the whole time she's here."
"Visiting you." Santana said pointedly. "Instead of staying at a hotel much closer to where I'm having my interviews. Because you're my friends." She batted her eyelashes. Kurt's eyes narrowed, but Blaine smiled.
"Yeah she's a guest Kurt." He said. "Be nice."
Kurt's mouth dropped open as Santana smirked. As Blaine dragged Kurt back into the kitchen, Santana turned back to Jake. He was grinning now, so wide she could see his teeth, and she realised this was probably the most normal interaction he'd had since coming to live with Kurt and Blaine. The two men were probably so worried about making him comfortable that they tiptoed around him. Santana decided she was going to act completely normal during her stay, act like his silence was normal, but talk to him anyway.
"That's how it's done." She told him. "Told you I'm the boss."
He nodded and turned back to the screen.
They watched several shows, some Santana had never seen before so she didn't have to feign too much of her interest. The entire time she let herself talk to the tv, like Mateo liked to do, answering characters questions or commenting on something funny or stupid. Soon enough, Jake began to do the same. He wasn't quite as loud as her, and sometimes it was just a head shake or a nod, but he was no longer just sitting stoically, nothing moving but his eyes. He was interacting with the tv, and Santana figured that was progress.
Feeling like she'd done a lot, Santana decided to go have some adult conversations and leave Jake to the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.
She went to get up, but paused halfway off the couch.
"Um, Jake?"
He turned to her.
"Do you think I can go to the kitchen for a while? To check on your…" She broke off, unsure if Kurt and Blaine had taken to calling themselves his dads directly to Jake. "Uh, on the food."
He cocked his head, and Santana was sure he was confused why she was asking his permission, but Santana had asked if she could join him, so she figured it made sense to ask if she could leave.
He nodded hesitantly.
"Are you sure?" She asked. He nodded again. "Okay. I won't take too long okay? And if anything really interesting starts happening, you promise to come call me?"
He nodded again.
"Great." She smiled, then deciding to take the risk, she reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "I'll just be in the kitchen." He didn't shy away from her touch, so she counted that as a success and got up.
She was very effectively channeling Brittany if she did say so herself. Her mother would be so proud.
Being so careful with Jake made Santana realise just how 'carefree' she was with her own kids. The swearing aside, which was something she was actually getting a pretty good handle on, even if it did take ten years, she was pretty free around her kids. She didn't hold back sarcasm or sass, she teased them and let them tease her, she was honest with them when she was in a bad mood or upset, like when she'd admitted to Kyler that she'd been crying. Maybe that was why she was so close to her kids.
"You finally decided to join us?" Kurt asked, looking up from the magazine he was reading as she walked in.
"Yeah I thought you might benefit from my presence too."
"How's he doing?" Blaine asked.
"Great. He's really giving it to Mickey."
Kurt and Blaine both frowned.
"What?" Kurt finally asked.
"I don't think he likes Mickey too much." Santana said, leaning against the counter. "But Donald, I can say he is a fan."
"How do you know that?" Blaine asked.
"He mumbled a few things." Santana shrugged.
Blaine looked at Kurt, looking almost upset with himself.
"Maybe we should be watching with him."
"I've never heard him talk to the tv…." Kurt said.
"I may have encouraged him." Santana said, suddenly wishing she'd stayed with the five year old. She didn't like the look on either Kurt or Blaine's face.
"In an hour?" Kurt frowned.
"Oh my god." Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course! Connecting with him when there is something else to focus his attention on, so he doesn't feel so anxious. We should have been spending that time with him so he feels our presence!"
"We're messing this up-"
"Wait." Santana pushed off the counter. "You're not messing this up, you're learning how to be parents."
"We've had four months." Blaine said heavily. "Shouldn't we be better at it by now?
"That's nothing! Most parents fumble through a few months of not knowing what the hell they're doing, they're just lucky their kids are too young to realise it. Yours happens to be five, that doesn't mean you're messing up."
"But you're so amazing-"
"Stop." Santana rolled her eyes. "I'm miles ahead of you in experience. I have four kids, dealt with four different five year olds, and also had to figure out how to parent a child who was actually in the foster system. I've done this before so of course I'm better at it than you."
Blaine relaxed as the truth of her words sunk in.
"Right." He said.
"You're doing fine, you just have to keep trying."
He nodded.
"Good. Now can I have a glass of wine or something, since you're insisting on starving me?"
"Food is almost ready." Blaine chuckled.
"But yeah, I'll pour you a glass." Kurt said. "Red or white?"
Santana had barely taken the glass from Kurt when Jake appeared in the doorway, hovering silently. Kurt noticed him first.
"Hi." He said, with forced cheer. "Everything okay? Are you hungry? Food's almost ready but if you're really hungry you can have some fruits or something. Here I'll get you some from the fridge." He turned and pulled open the fridge.
Santana would have laughed as Kurt fumbled to take out containers of fruit, if it weren't for the wide look in Jakes eyes, clearly overwhelmed by all of Kurt's questions. He was staring right at her.
"Put the fruit back Kurt." She said. "It's me he wants."
"What?"
"How do you know?" Blaine asked.
"Because I'm awesome."
Kurt relaxed, rolling his eyes.
"Besides I told him to call me if anything interesting happens." She picked her wine glass and walked to the door. "I'll leave you two to slave away in the kitchen…unless…" She paused, then leaned down close to Jake. "Do you think we should invite them to watch with us?"
His eyes drifted from Kurt to Blaine, Santana refused to look, already able to picture how eager they must look. Finally he nodded.
"Great." She stood straight once again.
"What about dinner?" Blaine asked. Santana shot him an annoyed look. "Right." He said, turning off the stove. "Doesn't matter."
Nodding, Santana turned and followed Jake back into the living room. She let Kurt and Blaine sit on the couch next to him, taking up the single sofa on the side. Every once in a while she would talk to the screen, asking questions or making statements that included Jake, giving him an opening to say something, to show Kurt and Blaine what she'd been doing earlier. They picked it up pretty quickly, and she saw Jake relax more and more between them.
They were good dads, she knew, and they'd all figure out how to be a family eventually, but she was glad to help.
She decided to be visiting New York more often. Maybe even pass by Rachel's and help her fix whatever problems Santana was sure she had.
Santana had been prepared for the question, maybe even overly prepared. Emma had brought in a publicist to coach her on what to say, how to say it, and most importantly, how to act when it was inevitably asked. So Santana was prepared. But maybe getting through five previous interviews without the topic coming up had lulled her into a false sense of security, or maybe actually hearing it, actually being in the situation where all eyes were on her and the entire room seemed to go still, waiting for her answer had thrown her off, or maybe it was Eve standing off to the side, eyes wide with shock. Maybe it was all of the above, either way, for all her preparation and coaching, Santana was so very not prepared.
She sat up slightly in her chair, clearing her throat.
"Mrs. Lopez-Pierce?"
Her eyes flicked back to the interviewer.
"Yes." Her publicist had told her to say. "Yes I fired him." It was an easily verifiable fact, so denying it would only look bad.
"Can you tell us why?"
Why. Well, that was a not so easy question to answer. If she was honest, she'd fired him because the sight of him made her sick. Made her stomach turn at the memory of what he'd done. Being near him made her skin crawl and a raw anger burn in her chest that she felt she could lose control of at any second. But she couldn't say that.
"He wasn't a good fit." Not a lie.
"But you have a tour in a few months."
"Yes."
"Won't finding and incorporating a new drummer into your band be cutting it a bit close?"
"Well…" Santana crossed her leg, feeling a bit more relaxed. "You under-estimate musicians." She smiled.
"Fair enough" the interviewer chuckled. "So it didn't have anything to do with the rumors of your affair?"
Santana had to clench her jaw to fight off a scowl.
"No." She said evenly. "But I suppose I should take this opportunity to finally address those ridiculous rumours." She rolled her eyes for effect. "Malek and I never had an affair. Apart from the fact that he is a man, and I find the notion that I would be even minutely attracted to him highly offensive, I also happen to have been off the market since I was eighteen. Brittany's owned my heart for way longer than that, but eighteen was the last time I ever even looked at anyone else, male or female. So I want people to understand that I will be dead and buried before I am unfaithful to her, and I know sometimes it can be interesting to speculate and gossip is fun and all that, but I hope I can trust my fans to respect her and our marriage the way that I do. It's not funny to me, it's not just gossip, we have kids and they will eventually see all of this nonsense, but it also just creates a disgusting narrative around me, which I despise. So…" She took a breath, trying to calming down, "you know let's joke about stuff that's actually funny, I'm always happy to laugh."
Maybe she'd gone a bit off script. All she was really supposed to say was that she didn't have an affair and she hoped they could put those romours behind them, but Santana wanted to make sure her fans, who could often be very protective of her, felt like they'd let her down. Maybe next time they'd quash such stupid rumors before they could build any real traction.
"Understandable." The interviewer said. "People really did seem to forget you were a lesbian for a moment there."
"Somehow." Santana forced a laugh. "Maybe I need to wear more eyeliner."
The interviewer laughed as well. "So you're saying there was never a kiss?"
Santana was sure that if she was even a shade lighter she would have gone pale. He couldn't know about the kiss, Emma had assured her that no pictures of the kiss had been leaked, since the photographers present had signed a contract saying all the pictures they took were the property of the label, and the label alone reserved the right to distribute them. So she was pretty sure the interviewer was working on speculation from gossip, trying to get her to spill something that couldn't be verified.
Unless he interviewed any of the dozens of musicians at her party and asked them.
But her publicist seemed happy to take the risk that he wouldn't go that far. So Santana had been told to lie.
"No." She laughed airily, like it was all a great misunderstanding, despite her rapidly beating heart. "No, that was a kiss on the cheek. It's been really crazy finding out that people have twisted it into a real kiss. Surely anyone who knows me knows I would have aimed a nice kick to his tennis balls if that had actually happened."
Highly amused by this, the interviewer nodded.
"But there are reports that he went home in an ambulance."
"Oh my god." Santana nearly chocked. That she hadn't heard before. "What?"
"Yes. Some people say an ambulance was called and he was taken out of your dressing room on a stretcher."
"Jesus Christ." Santana shook her head, laughing genuinely. "You know what? Maybe I should let people think it's true, so anyone who dares to think they can try anything with me will believe that they'll only be asking for a trip to the ER."
"It would definitely be a very effective deterrent." The interviewer laughed. "But you're saying it's not true?"
"No Malek didn't go home in an ambulance. Like I said, he just wasn't a good fit for the band long term. He was a great music director, and I have him to thank for my album, but since the album is done and released, I don't need him for that anymore. As a drummer…." she shrugged, "we decided it would be better to go our separate ways."
"This is now your fifth drummer."
"Is it?" Santana asked, as though she wasn't well aware of that fact.
"Yes. Why do you think it seems impossible for you to find and keep and drummer?"
Santana took a deep breath, shaking her head.
"I don't know. I'm sure some people will say it's me, that I'm hard to work with or something like that."
"And what do you say?"
"I think…." She licked her lips, thinking. "I've become very close with my guitarist, Jade, and my pianist, Lucas, they've been with me since the beginning, and I can't even imagine performing without them. I trust their input and criticisms, I trust them to always know what they're doing, and give it a hundred percent. My kids have grown up around them, they come for fourth of July parties, birthday parties and all that, so they're not just members of my band, they're like a second family." The interviewer nodded, so Santana continued.
"I think the problem I've been facing with drummers, is that I haven't yet found someone that I can trust like that, as more than just a drummer."
There was a flare of anger in her chest as she spoke, realizing that she had thought Malek was finally it. He fit well in her band, matched their energy and creativity, he pushed them but had thick enough skin to be pushed back without getting his feelings hurt. His personality gelled well with all of theirs so it was easy. Plus he was very talented. It pissed Santana off that she was going to have to search all over again.
"It's not just skills, it's personality." The interviewer said.
"Yeah. And I think the unfortunate thing is that since Jade and Lucas have been with me for so long, we've all found our balance, so it's harder to bring someone in now than it would have been in the beginning."
"Mmh"
"But what can you do?" Santana shrugged. "I need a drummer."
"Well from your latest tour it looks like your son might be the answer."
Santana laughed. "Yes, he would be perfect." She agreed.
"Which one of your sons was it?"
"Jesús, one of my oldest."
"One of the twins?" The interviewer clarified. Santana nodded. "How old are they?"
"Ten. Almost eleven."
"Would you consider letting him play for your tour."
"Not the whole thing." Santana shook her head. "Ten is a bit young. With all the rehearsals, two hours of intense concerts, multiple times a week…I don't think that would be fair to him. There might actually be laws against that." She laughed.
"So you just have to bide your time till he's old enough."
"Basically." She nodded.
"Well I wish you luck. Hopefully when you do find someone, this one lasts."
"Fingers crossed."
Honestly, Santana thought, the bar was pretty low. All they had to do was not kiss her.
Though Mateo maintained that he wanted to go camping, Santana and Brittany knew that he also needed a party to which he could invite his friends. So as they rolled into May and Quinn was finally released, Santana was tasked with answering all the calls from parents of kids in Mateo's class. Against her will, Brittany had put her number on the invitation cards, and now her phone wouldn't stop ringing.
She glared at Quinn, who was laughing at her, and answered the phone for what felt like the hundredth time.
It was the same stupid conversation she'd had with every other parent,
'Mateo's having a party?'
'Yes'
'And it's at your house?'
'No, the address is on the card. Martial Cottlepark.'
'Oh yes I see that here. How nice.'
'Yeah he's excited.'
'And he's turning seven?'
On and on the stupid questions went, questions with answers on the card. Santana was certain these parents were just calling to see if it was really Santana Lopez's number and it was thoroughly annoying her. Quinn's laughter only intensified when she hung up.
"What the hell is wrong with people?" She groaned.
"Who would want to miss their chance to talk to the Santana Lopez." Quinn teased.
"I wish they'd all grow up."
Her phone rang again, and Santana had to resist the urge to throw it across the room. She took a deep calming breath and answered.
"Good afternoon."
"Good afternoon?" It was a man's voice, that Santana was all too familiar with. She frowned, pulling the phone away from her ear. Sure enough, Miguel's name was showing across her screen.
"Miguel?"
"Who knew you could answer the phone so politely." He laughed.
"I thought you were someone else."
"It's nice to know you have manners, even if I never get to see them."
"Estúpido" Santana laughed. "What do you want?"
"Well, I hear it's a little man's birthday in two weeks."
"Yeah. Sorry." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It snuck up on us. I'm about to make all the family calls I promise."
"So you didn't forget us?"
"Of course not!"
"Alright. I'll take your word for it. Lily and Abigail made sure we would let them come months ago so no need to worry about the last minute nature of your invitation."
"Great." Santana grinned. "So it all works out."
Miguel clicked his tongue.
"On a more serious note, I was calling to see if you were okay."
"Uhh…" Santana's eyes drifted to Quinn, even though she hadn't heard what Miguel had said. "I'm fine yeah…thanks."
"Really?"
Santana frowned. "Is this about my drummer?"
"Your-what? No. I don't care about the guy you've been hooking up with all over the world."
"I hate you so much."
Miguel laughed heartily.
"Come on Santana, as if any of us could believe that you'd cheat on Brittany."
"Okay, then why do you suddenly care how I am."
"First of all, I always care how you are."
"Mmhh" Santana rolled her eyes.
"But I figured you might want to vent a bit."
"About what?" Santana felt like she was missing information important to the conversation. "I need some context."
"Abuela."
Cold dread sunk heavy in Santana's stomach. She hadn't spoken to her grandmother since New Year's when she'd sent her a message, more than happy to push her and all the drama that came with her to the back of her mind. Now it all came rushing back, like someone had dunked ice down her back. The anger and frustration, the sadness, the fear of it all blowing up in her face. Just the mention of her abuela and Santana felt like she couldn't breathe.
"What…" She had to clear her throat, hating how weak her voice sounded. "What did she do now?"
"Oh you haven't heard? I thought she would have called you for sure."
She hadn't. In fact she'd stopped calling Santana since ambushing her on Christmas Eve.
"No."
"Well, it was really crazy. I don't know what's going on with her but it's freaking me out."
"What did she do?"
"Remember that fight she had with Eric a few years back, about his kids?"
Santana scoffed. "When she called them bastards?"
It was a hard moment to forget. Santana hadn't been there of course, but she'd been in Lima for Thanksgiving, and heard about it from Miguel. The two of them had stopped by Eric's house later that day to check on him and Santana couldn't remember ever seeing Eric more Irate in her life. He looked murderous, and Santana didn't blame him one bit. That was when the rest of her family seemed to give up on her abuela, choosing to separate themselves from her, one by one.
"That's the one." Miguel said tersely, like he too was still upset about that. "Well Eric's been pretty clear about not wanting to hear anything more from her, and she never really seemed to care, but after this past Christmas she just started calling him all of a sudden."
"Like she was doing with me last year?"
"Exactly. Calling incessantly, even though he never picked."
For a brief moment Santana actually felt bad for her grandmother. Going from being the head of the family, the absolute rule of law, to the nuisance old lady that no one wanted anything to do with couldn't be easy. Her grandmother liked control, and over the last few years she'd lost all of it.
She deserved it, Santana had to remind herself. The way she treated people and the things she said had come back to bite her. She shouldn't feel bad for her.
"Well I guess she decided that she wouldn't be ignored anymore. So guess what she did?" Without waiting for Santana to actually guess, Miguel continued, "She faked a heart attack."
"What?!" Santana exclaimed, sitting forward. "No fucking way."
Quinn's eyes widened, looking at Santana in alarm.
"Sorry." Santana whispered, her eyes flitting to the baby asleep in Quinn's arms. "I'll be right back." She stood and walked out of the apartment, not talking until she'd shut the door behind her.
"What do you mean she faked a heart attack? Are you sure it wasn't real?"
"Yeah." Miguel said flatly, and Santana could imagine him rolling his eyes. "Your dad insisted she go to the hospital and get checked out. They said she was fine."
"What did she say to that?"
"Must have been gas."
Despite herself, Santana snorted. There was no one on earth like her grandmother, that was undeniable.
"Well what the hell did she do all that for?"
"To get Eric to talk to her."
"Oh my god." Santana rolled her eyes. Just like ambushing her on Christmas Eve, her abuela was never interested in respecting other people's wishes. "To tell him it was time to get over this nonsense no doubt."
"Actually, she did apologise." Miguel said. "She told him he had every right to be mad, and that she never should have talked about his beautiful kids like that. She said he didn't have to forgive her but she wanted him to know that she understood she had crossed a line, and that she was sorry."
She sounded as sincere as she had when inviting Santana to church. Miguel was right, there was definitely something going on with their grandmother.
"Why would you assume she'd call me after that?"
"She called me, Andrea and Stephanie, asking us to bring our kids by for a weekend so she can see them. I figured she called you too."
Santana felt a flash of hurt, thinking maybe her abuela hadn't called her because she didn't actually consider her kids as much a part of the family as say Miguel's or Andrea's, but then she realised that the last time she had seen her grandmother, she'd told her to go to hell. A New Year's Eve text with only three words did not change that.
Her grandmother was giving her space. The space she had asked for.
"Did you take your kids by?" She asked, mostly to distract herself from the confusing emotions she was feeling.
"No, the kids are in school, but either way, I can't just fly to Lima because she demands it. Andrea went over Easter weekend, but I was spending the weekend with Nicole's parents."
"Mmhh." Santana nodded.
"Anyway it's good she didn't call you." Miguel said. "She's bothered you enough. Eric was actually saying he hoped she didn't use his forgiving her as an excuse to call you."
"Oh he forgave her?"
"Mmh" Miguel hummed. "Yeah he said as annoying as her going so overboard was, it showed she actually cared."
Overboard. That was one way to describe faking a heart attack. Crazy, manipulative...those were words that came to Santana's mind.
"Do you think she's dying?" She asked, wondering not for the first time if that was what kickstarted all this.
It would explain her sudden change in character. The way she was so eager to reconcile with everyone, the way she wanted to see and spend time with her grandkids. If she was dying, she would have a lot of incentive to fix things with her family. Santana had asked viciously on Christmas eve, but now that she thought about it, death puts things like those into perspective. It wouldn't be a surprise if it's what finally changed her stubborn grandmother.
"No." Miguel said after a moment of thought. "I mean she's not young, so maybe she just realised she doesn't have a lot of time to keep being a hard-ass."
"Maybe."
"If she was, would it change anything?"
Santana thought about that. Was a death-bed apology any less sincere than any other kind of apology? Whatever the motivation, Santana couldn't forget the way her grandmother had looked at Brittany that day on Christmas Eve. Without any anger or disgust or malice. Like she was finally seeing Brittany, and who she was to Santana. Did it matter why?
"I wouldn't forgive her just because she's dying, but I might believe dying made her realise how sorry she actually was."
"That's one way to look at it." Miguel said thoughtfully.
"But we don't think she's dying right?"
"Right."
The truth was, Santana didn't want her grandmother to die, and that was telling.
"Alright well, now that I've updated you on the latest family gossip, I should get back to work."
"You have a job?"
"Ha, ha."
"Thanks." Santana said, turning serious. "For checking in."
"No thanks necessary, I told you we've got your back this time. I'll see you in two weeks Santana."
"Yeah see you. Bye."
Santana stood in the hallway outside Quinn's apartment for a long time, struggling with herself. Her abuela was trying to spend time with her grandkids, all of her grandkids, but she didn't know how to ask Santana when she'd screwed up so badly the last time she met Santana's kids. Fine, Santana decided, she'd give her abuela the opportunity she was looking for. She'd already decided to forgive her, now it was time to take the steps to actually proving she had. If her grandmother wanted to meet her kids, she could do it at Mateo's birthday.