With Thanksgiving just three days away, Brett took a deep breath, calming his nerves as he waited for them to answer the door. Before he could fully prepare himself, the door swung open, and James wasted no time barging in, squeezing through the small gap. Oliver followed close behind, their laughter filling the air. Brian chuckled, opening the door wider to let Brett in.
"Hey boys, hey Brett," Brian greeted warmly, stepping aside to allow them into the house. His usual cheerful demeanor did little to soothe Brett's nerves.
"Hey, Brian," Brett replied, managing a small smile as he stepped inside. The warmth and familiarity of the home wrapped around him, but it didn't quite manage to calm the unease in his stomach.
As Brett made his way through the house, following the boys' laughter, he found Carol in the kitchen. She was busy preparing food, her movements efficient and practiced. The smell of roasting turkey filled the air, making Brett's mouth water despite his nerves.
"Hey," Brett announced, stepping into the kitchen. "Smells like turkey in here," he added with a smile, trying to keep his tone light. Carol turned, a warm smile spreading across her face as she saw him. "Brett! It's so good to see you," she said, wiping her hands on a towel before moving to give him a quick hug. "I'm just getting everything ready for our little mini Thanksgiving with the boys."
Brian followed Brett into the kitchen, a glass of wine in his hand. "Can I get you something to drink?" he asked, his tone casual. Brett shook his head, his smile faltering just slightly. "No, thanks. I won't stay long," he replied, though he wasn't sure how true that would be.
Carol raised an eyebrow, picking up on the tension in Brett's voice. "Everything okay?" she asked, her tone gentle, but her eyes searching his face for any signs of distress.
Brett hesitated, his gaze flickering to the boys, who were now happily munching on some of the snacks Carol had set out for them. He took another deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he had been dreading. "Actually," he started, his voice barely above a whisper, "it'd be great to have a quick chat with you both… away from those two."
Brian, always perceptive, caught on immediately. He gave Brett a reassuring smile and nodded. "I'll pop a movie on for them," he said, standing up to set the boys up with a cartoon that would keep them occupied.
Once the boys were settled and their giggles filled the background, Brett joined Brian and Carol at the dining table. The space, usually so full of life and laughter, now felt smaller, more intimate, as if it were closing in on him. He found himself fidgeting, unsure of what to do with his hands, his nerves betraying his usually calm demeanor.
"Is everything okay?" Carol asked again, her voice tinged with uncertainty now, the concern deepening in her eyes. Brett managed a small smile, though it felt forced even to him. "I think so," he replied, trying to reassure both himself and them. But the weight of what he was about to say hung heavily in the air, making it difficult to breathe.
Brian and Carol waited patiently, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern as they watched Brett struggle to find the right words. He nodded again, more to himself this time, trying to summon the courage he needed.
"Santana is pregnant," he finally said, his voice quiet, almost hesitant, as if he were testing the waters of this new reality. He looked up, searching their faces for a reaction, but was met with silence. They simply stared at him, processing the news.
Brett felt a rush of panic. Did they not understand? Did they disapprove? The silence was deafening, each second stretching into what felt like an eternity. He swallowed hard, feeling his heart race as he tried to read their expressions.
"We're having a baby," Brett continued, his voice a bit firmer now, but still gentle, almost as if he were coaxing the words into existence. His gaze shifted between Brian and Carol, desperately trying to gauge their thoughts, their feelings.
Finally, Brian broke the silence, his voice steady, though there was an undercurrent of something Brett couldn't quite place. "When is she due?" he asked, his tone careful, almost as if he were treading on delicate ground.
Brett's shoulders relaxed slightly, relieved that the conversation was moving forward. "May 20th," he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips, trying to inject some of the happiness he felt about the news.
But the silence returned, more profound this time, as if the weight of the date had suddenly settled over them all. Carol's face paled slightly, her eyes distant as she processed what Brett had just said. Her lips parted, but no words came out for a moment. Then, almost in a whisper, she finally spoke.
"That's three days after Emily died," Carol said, her voice barely audible, yet the words hit Brett like a ton of bricks. The connection he had tried not to dwell on suddenly lay bare in front of them all. The timing, the cruel irony of life, now exposed and unavoidable.
Brett nodded, his throat tightening as he struggled to find the right thing to say. "I know," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He had thought about this a lot, about the significance of the date, about how it would affect Carol and Brian. But hearing it said out loud made it all the more real, and the pain that flashed across Carol's face was like a knife to his heart.
"Three days," Carol repeated, almost to herself, her gaze unfocused as if she were seeing something far away, something only she could see. Brian, ever the steady presence, reached over and grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently. The gesture was small, but it spoke volumes about the shared grief that still lingered between them.
Brett felt his heart break a little more, watching the pain etched on Carol's face. He hadn't meant to bring this hurt into their lives again, but he knew there was no way around it. This was the reality they all had to face.
"I'm sorry," Brett said, his voice cracking slightly. He wasn't sure what he was apologizing for, the pregnancy, the timing, the resurfacing of old wounds, but the words tumbled out before he could stop them.
Carol blinked, as if coming out of a trance, and turned to look at Brett. Her eyes were filled with tears that she was trying so hard to hold back. "Don't be sorry, Brett," she said softly, her voice trembling. "It's just… it's a lot to take in."
Brett nodded slowly, feeling the weight of her words. He understood that all too well. "I know," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His gaze shifted between them, seeking some form of reassurance or understanding, though he wasn't entirely sure he deserved it. "I didn't want to hurt you both. I just… I needed you to hear this from me before anyone else. I owe you that much."
Carol and Brian exchanged a glance, their hands still intertwined on the table. Brett could see the silent communication between them, years of shared grief and love woven into that simple exchange. He could sense the delicate balance they were trying to maintain, the tug of happiness for him and Santana battling with the weight of their shared history with Emily.
"I don't want to hurt you either," Brett continued, his voice quiet but filled with sincerity. "You know how much I loved Emily. I still think about her all the time. She's always going to be a part of my life, and I'll always honor that." His throat tightened as the memories of his late wife floated to the surface, bittersweet and familiar.
Brian nodded, his face unreadable for a moment before he spoke. "We know that, Brett," he said, his voice calm but firm, as though he were trying to reassure Brett as much as himself. "Emily would want you to move forward, to be happy." He paused, glancing over at Carol, who was still fighting to maintain her composure. "It's just... the timing, you know?"
Brett nodded again, his heart aching at the pain etched on her face. "I know," he said softly. "I wish it were different, but this baby—this baby is a new chapter. It's not meant to replace anything, and it's not about forgetting Emily. It's about life moving forward."
Carol took a shaky breath and nodded. She seemed to understand, even if it still hurt. "I just... I'm trying, Brett," she admitted, her voice trembling. "It's just hard to separate the joy of new life from the grief we still carry."
"I know," Brett said quietly. "I don't expect it to be easy. But I promise you, I'm not trying to overshadow Emily's memory. This is just where life has led us."
Brian, who had remained mostly silent throughout the conversation, cleared his throat. "How did the boys take the news?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.
Brett shifted uncomfortably in his seat, rubbing his hands together. "They don't know yet," he admitted, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice. "We haven't told them. It's... complicated. We wanted to wait for the right time, and I wanted to talk to you both first."
Carol's brows furrowed as she processed this. "Why haven't you told them yet? Don't you think they deserve to know?" Brett nodded, understanding her concern. "Yes, of course. They deserve to know, but it's just... they've been through so much already, you know? Losing their mom, adjusting to a new normal. Santana and I wanted to make sure we approached it the right way."
Brian leaned back in his chair, his face thoughtful. "Do you think they'll be excited?"
"I hope so," Brett said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "James is a bit of a wild card, but I think he'll be excited once he understands. Oliver... well, Oliver's more sensitive, but we'll help him through it."
Carol looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of emotions. "They've been through so much already, Brett. But you're a good father. I know you'll handle this with care." Brett felt a lump rise in his throat at Carol's words. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm trying my best."
Brett stepped through the front door of their home, his shoulders slumped slightly, the weight of the morning still clinging to him. As he entered the living room, he saw Santana sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone with a slight frown of concentration. She looked up as she heard him approach, her face lighting up in a warm smile that instantly soothed some of the tension inside him.
"Hey, you're back," she said, standing and walking over to him. Her arms wrapped around his waist, and she rested her head on his chest for a moment, breathing in his scent. Brett let out a long breath and closed his eyes, savoring the comfort of her embrace.
"How did it go?" she asked quietly, her voice soft but laced with concern. She pulled back slightly to look up at him, her eyes scanning his face for any hint of how the visit had affected him. Brett sighed, "It wasn't terrible," he admitted, "but it wasn't great either." His words hung in the air, a reflection of the ongoing struggle that always seemed to bubble to the surface when it came to his family.
"Want to talk about it?" she asked gently, her hand resting on his arm, offering silent reassurance. Before Brett could respond, his mother's voice echoed down the hallway. "Brett, honey, we're leaving for lunch in 15 minutes!" The sound of her heels clicking on the wooden floor followed her words, as if to punctuate her announcement.
Thursday morning arrived quicker than either Santana or Brett had anticipated. The early light filtered softly through the bedroom curtains, casting a warm glow on the walls. The world outside was just waking up, but inside their cozy bedroom, the air was thick with a mixture of excitement and nerves. Santana lay beside Brett, her head resting on the pillow, eyes wide open, as her thoughts swirled with anticipation.
Brett lay beside her, his hand absentmindedly tracing circles on her stomach. His touch was gentle, and even though they'd gone through this routine countless times over the past few weeks, there was something different about today. Something significant. Santana turned her head slightly, her dark hair spilling across the pillow as she looked at him.
"How do you think the boys will take it?" she asked, her voice soft but tinged with the same nervousness that had followed her all week. It wasn't the first time she'd asked him this—far from it—but she needed reassurance. Each time she asked, it wasn't really about the answer itself, but about hearing the steadiness in Brett's voice, the calm certainty that things would be okay.
Brett chuckled quietly, a deep, warm sound that made Santana smile despite her nerves. "For the hundredth time," he teased, "I think they'll be excited." He shifted slightly, propping himself up on his elbow to look at her more clearly. His other hand, however, never left her stomach, his fingers still tracing the almost imperceptible curve that had started to form.
Brett's fingers lingered for a moment longer before he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with affection. "I feel like you can see a little bump now," he commented, his voice laced with wonder. His hand stilled on her stomach as he gazed down, as though trying to memorize every detail of this moment.
Santana's hand joined his, their fingers intertwining as they rested on the small curve. "It's starting to feel real, isn't it?" she murmured, her own voice filled with awe. "It is real," Brett said softly, his eyes meeting hers. "Our little baby is real."
She took a deep breath and shifted closer to him, resting her head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear, a soothing rhythm that calmed her racing thoughts. "I know I've asked you a million times," she said softly, "but I just want this to go perfectly."
Brett kissed the top of her head. "It will," he promised, the confidence in his voice unwavering. "They're going to be so happy for us. And, San," he added, his tone softening.
They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other as the morning sunlight grew stronger, casting golden light across the room. Eventually, Santana stirred, pulling herself away from the warmth of Brett's chest. "We should probably get up," she said, though she didn't sound particularly eager to leave the comfort of their bed.
Brett laughed, his hand still resting on her stomach as if he was reluctant to let go. "Yeah, I suppose we should." As Santana pushed herself out of bed and padded toward the bathroom, Brett stayed behind for a moment, taking a deep breath as he mentally prepared for what was to come.
When Santana returned, Brett was already out of bed and pulling on a shirt, his mind racing through the logistics of the day. He glanced at her, his expression softening as he caught her eye. "So, we're still going with the plan, right?" he asked, though they had talked about it several times already.
"Yeah," Santana replied, brushing her fingers through her dark hair, still slightly disheveled from sleep. "Unless you've suddenly changed your mind?"
Brett grinned, shaking his head. "No, no, I just wanted to make sure we're on the same page. So, my parents, Sophia and Ryder, will drive over to your parents' house separately in my car. We're taking your car with the boys, but we'll stop for lunch on the way—"
"Right," Santana interrupted, nodding. "That's when we'll tell them." She took a deep breath, feeling the familiar flurry of nerves start to build in her chest.
Brett stepped closer, reaching for her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "And this evening, when everyone's together at your parents' house, we'll share the news with the rest of the family. When the time is right."