It'd been two days since they'd last seen each other, and Santana was still on a blissful high. She already missed Brittany, but they'd been texting back and forth constantly, and their promise of a date this Saturday was making her feel like a teenage girl. She hadn't dated in a long while, and the thought of spending that time with Brittany only added to her excitement. Working at the restaurant had been particularly stressful these past few weeks, so unwinding and enjoying herself fully was exactly what Santana needed.

As she cleaned her station and said goodbye to a few members of her staff, Santana noticed Kurt's head peeking out from behind the door. He spotted her immediately and walked towards her, only turning around when Mercedes waved goodbye.

"Did Marley and Sunshine leave already?" Santana asked him. She'd wanted to apologize to them for a while now, remembering how overbearing she'd been after first hearing news of Susan Spite.

Kurt nodded. "Yeah."

Santana took her hat off and started unbuttoning her jacket. "Oh well." She looked up at the head waiter. "What's up?"

"I have some good news and some bad news."

Sighing, Santana set her hat on her station. "Go ahead."

"Well, apparently there's been some pretty crispy drama up at Cuisine's headquarters," Kurt announced mischievously.

Santana arched an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Mhmm, Rachel Berry had a little preview of Spite's review. And let me tell you, it left a sour taste in her mouth."

"Her mom actually showed it to her?"

"Yup. Rachel begged her so hard she caved and showed her a snippet. She was furious. Threw a fit and stamped her feet—Jesse said he thought Shelby would pop that vein on her forehead."

"God, why are you friends with these people again?" Santana asked.

Kurt shrugged. "They provide gossip and are wildly entertaining. But anyway, I hear Spite might have to rewrite her review for LuPones."

"Rewrite it completely? That's crazy! What does Berry want? A eulogy?"

"Some variation of that, yes."

"Ugh. I knew I'd hate that arrogant troll somewhere down the line."

"Well—"

"Wait, hold up. Does that mean she'll get a whole spread? The spot?"

Kurt paused, obviously trying to find the right words. He knew Santana wanted more than just a review; she wanted the coveted position of "best up-and- comers". She wanted the lavish praise and the great publicity. She wanted the restaurant to be recognized and its popularity to boom.

"That's...a possibility."

Santana clenched her fists and groaned. "No. No, that's not fair. Kurt, she's not playing fair! Who does she think she is, asking for a well-known critic to rewrite a damn article? It's just so—"

Santana cut herself off, something in her sentence suddenly calling to her.

"Rewrite it," she murmured, rolling the words on her tongue, wracking her brain to try and remember why they sounded so familiar and why she felt like her blood had turned into lead and why—

She suddenly choked on air. She remembered this Tuesday; she remembered walking down the stairs of Brittany's house with a clouded mind. She remembered Brittany whispering she couldn't rewrite it...that it would be wrong.

This can't be true, Santana reasoned, feeling her throat close up and her hands shake. Brittany was terrible at lying; she could never have kept a secret like that. Yet...yet it made sense, didn't it? The chef shook her head in disbelief, her nose scrunching as she frowned. She looked so terribly confused, like a lost child in a supermarket.

Now that the thought was planted in her mind, there was nothing she could do to stop it. Was she just freaking out for nothing? Maybe she was tired. It was getting late, and with Brittany constantly on her mind, perhaps she was starting to mix things up. Yet...everything clicked, all the pieces fit. Christ, everything was so conveniently coincidental that Santana was close to punching herself. Brittany had stepped back into her life, and only a few days later Santana had learned that Susan Spite would review Adjacent. Brittany had said she'd write a review for her...but why? Why would she have lied yet again? Out of pity? Maybe she'd felt bad after Santana had shown up on doorstep, soaked and needy. Maybe she'd felt remorse for turning Santana into a nervous wreck, an agitated mess.

But she worked at the Culi Mag. She'd always worked there; that wasn't a lie. She'd hated it, sure...and now that she thought about it, Santana couldn't imagine her staying there for so many years...but Brittany had told her she'd been promoted, that the working conditions had improved. Had she lied about that too? There was no way. And Santana knew how Brittany wrote, she was quirky as hell and always humorous. Her writing was nothing like Spite's reviews. Sure, it had been a couple years since Santana had read anything written by Brittany, and Spite did have a rather peculiar style at times...but that didn't mean...it didn't have to mean that—

Brittany...Brittany...the name danced around her mind, taunting her. Brittany...

Brittany Susan Pierce.

God! Santana wanted to scream.