When Santana decided to call it a day and let Holly take over, she felt a sense of dread wash over her. She was going to step outside in a moment, and she'd have to drive back home. There, she'd be alone with her thoughts, and she'd have to stop herself from calling Brittany...again.

She'd been doing a lot of thinking since Thursday—not to mention she'd cooled down entirely—and admitted to herself that she may have gone overboard. She'd been right to confront Brittany, and discovering the truth had certainly hurt when she'd thought that she and Brittany were trusting each other again, but she still could have approached things...a bit differently. Perhaps with a more open mind and certainly more time after her initial reaction. She had said things she didn't mean, and she wished she could take them back.

She had never considered their relationship to be poison, and after mulling it over, she understood how delicate Brittany's situation had been. Exposing herself as Susan could have hurt her career. Santana would have never divulged the information to anyone, but she got why Brittany probably wanted to confess after her review was out.

Still, Brittany had put herself in this situation, so she wasn't blameless either.

That was exactly why Santana desperately wanted to talk to her, but something inside her pulled her back. She loved her so much that she was ashamed of how rash she had been on Thursday.

"Santana?"

She turned around when she heard Kurt's voice, and sure enough, he was standing right behind her, large envelope in hand. She frowned curiously, "What's this?"

He paused cautiously. "I don't know exactly. Brittany wanted me to give it to you."

"Brittany? Britt was here? Why didn't—why didn't you tell me?"

"She didn't want to disturb you. She gave this to me and left right away."

Santana's face fell. "Oh." Why hadn't she stayed? They weren't exactly on good terms right now, but Santana could have made something quick for her...she knew how much Brittany liked cheese-stuffed jalapenos, or maybe something as simple as deviled eggs.

"Here," Kurt said, extending the envelope. She took it and nodded her thanks, hesitating for just a moment before she walked towards the storage room.

There, she sat against a wall and opened the envelope, eager to see what it contained. She frowned at the first paper, the one with her restaurant's name on it, but her eyes widened when she realized it was Brittany's review. Quickly, she looked at the other paper.

A letter.

She wasn't sure if a chilly, crappily-lit room was the best place to read it, but right now, she couldn't give much of a damn.

Santana,

These past few weeks, we've rebuilt something I never imagined would happen again. When I broke up with you three years ago, I thought I was setting my heart free. I knew what we had was much too fragile to ever grow. We had sex—great sex—but we also had tears, and fights, and hearts that ached day after day. I know you felt it too—being in love with each other was exhausting.

Do you remember when we met? I was on a date with the most self-centered girl in the world, and you were the waitress with the wicked smile. You flirted with me so shamelessly that at one point, my date just got up and left. I only noticed five minutes later...you and I had gotten into a passionate discussion about food. The light in your eyes, Santana...it was the most captivating thing. I knew in that moment your dream was Adjacent. Or at least more than serving the food prepared by others. You drew me in so quickly, and I know I had the same effect on you. It was so easy, just you and me. The aspiring chef and the aspiring writer.

We both made it, and I'm so proud.

But...with my dream came a big secret. You know, Susan Spite was initially my boss's idea. She'd just hired me, and I was over the moon. I couldn't believe the opportunity, especially after feeling so stuck at the Culi Mag. After a few weeks of writing blurbs for different sections of Cuisine, Shelby told me she needed another food critic. Jesse St. James was great, but he was a known face and wanted to do other things as well. She needed someone nobody would know, a fresh writer with an anonymous face. Someone that would focus all their energy on going from restaurant to restaurant and come back with a myriad of things to write. I knew the minute she said it: that's what I wanted to do. It was perfect for me. I couldn't believe it! I'd get to stuff my face and write about it? Crazy.

Susan Spite isn't just a random persona; she's my whole job. People in the business look up to her, they respect her, they trust her words. My words. I never meant to lie to your face, but then I realized there was no way around it. If someone around you were to know...someone I couldn't trust, then I can't even imagine what the repercussions would be. People would recognize my face, they'd know Susan the minute she stepped into their restaurant, bar or café. I could never do my job the same way. Do you understand what I'm trying to say here?

It's crazy, you know, words are usually my thing. But with you...my hands can't stop shaking, and the pen keeps slipping from my fingers. But I trust you, I trust you with my heart and with this secret. I know you're angry at me for making you feel so vulnerable, and that was never my intention. That night when you knocked on my door, drenched and tired, you looked so overworked, I almost blurted out the truth right then. I'm so sorry, honey. I never meant to make you feel that way. You told me you needed me, and I knew then you were asking for comfort, not for an ugly piece of truth. Everything went so fast after that...

I want you to talk to me, yell at me again if you need to, slap me silly with a dead fish, I don't care. Just tell me how I can fix things. Now I'm the one telling you—I need you. I need you back in my life. I thought breaking up with you the first time was hard, but this? This is killing me. I was so wrong. We have changed. We have grown. We're not those two dreamers anymore; we're not reckless or naive. I loved you hard and foolishly, but now I love you with everything I have. You were with me before, but now you're a part of me; does that make sense? It's different, you know—we never talked too much about the future together. Maybe it's because we knew our relationship wouldn't last, or maybe we just didn't think that far ahead. But now, it's all I can think about. Please don't give up on us.

Love,
Brittany

PS: I walked into your restaurant that first day knowing I would love your food, and each time I went back, you proved me right. There is not one word in that review that I don't mean, and I hope you can understand it was never meant to hurt you in the first place. And, for what it's worth, I think you're an amazing chef.