"Pregnant?" Gloria asked, her voice rising with a mixture of shock and excitement. Her eyes were wide as she stared at Brett, who stood in front of the gathering with a smile.
Whitney stood frozen, her mouth slightly open in disbelief. "Brett?" she questioned, her voice laced with confusion. "What do you mean?" Her gaze flicked between her son and Santana, trying to piece together what had just happened.
Gloria, still not yet fully grasping the situation, repeated her question as if saying it again might clarify things. "Pregnant?" she asked, her tone higher than usual, as if disbelief and joy were warring inside her.
Before anyone could respond, Santana stepped forward, coming to stand right next to Brett, their hands intertwined as they exchanged a quick glance. The smile that bloomed on her face was one of pure happiness, and it melted away any lingering nerves she had about the reveal. "I'm pregnant," she said, her voice soft but full of emotion.
"¡Ay, Dios mío!" Gloria shouted, clasping her hands to her mouth, eyes watering as she turned to Luis, "Mija... ¿Estás embarazada?" he asked, his usually steady voice shaking as he looked between his daughter and Brett, searching for confirmation.
"Sí, Papá," Santana said, her smile growing wider as she confirmed it to her father. She barely had time to take another breath before Luis had engulfed her in a tight hug, his strong arms wrapping around her like a protective cocoon.
Gloria quickly followed suit, throwing her arms around Santana the second Luis released her, tears now freely streaming down her face. "Mi niña," Gloria said in between sobs, holding Santana tightly and rocking her slightly from side to side. "This is wonderful! Oh, this is such a blessing, Santana."
Meanwhile, Whitney was still staring in disbelief. She blinked, turning towards Stephen as he walked towards his son. He patted Brett on the shoulder before pulling him into a warm hug. "Congratulations, son," he said with pride in his voice. There was a steady strength in his embrace, the kind that communicated his approval in a way words never could.
Whitney shook her head slightly, as if clearing the fog from her brain. She stood, finally finding her footing in the moment, and approached Brett and Santana, her hands fluttering nervously as she looked at her son. "I... I'm just shocked," she admitted, but there was a smile growing on her lips, the excitement starting to take root. "But I'm so happy for you both." She stepped forward and hugged Brett first, then turned to Santana. "Congratulations, honey," she said warmly, embracing her. "This is amazing news."
As soon as Whitney stepped back, Sophia and Georgia, who had been standing off to the side in anticipation, couldn't hold in their excitement any longer. "Oh my God!" Sophia squealed, bouncing on her toes. "You're pregnant! I can't believe it!" Georgia followed close behind, her excitement no less vibrant. "This is incredible! I'm so happy for you guys!" She wrapped Santana in a tight hug, then turned to Brett, giving him a congratulatory smack on the arm. "Way to go, Brett!"
The room buzzed with energy as more and more family members caught on to what was happening. The news of Santana's pregnancy spread like wildfire, and soon everyone wanted to congratulate the couple. Gloria was still holding Santana's hand, tears in her eyes, while Luis stood proudly by his daughter, his smile never faltering.
"I just can't believe it!" Gloria kept repeating, dabbing her eyes with a napkin. "A baby! A grandchild! This is the best Thanksgiving ever."
"I'm so happy for you both," Luis added, looking from Santana to Brett. His voice was full of warmth and affection. "This baby will be surrounded by so much love."
Mateo and Gabriel approached Brett, both grinning. Mateo was the first to extend his hand, shaking Brett's firmly, the corners of his mouth lifting into a playful smirk. "Congrats, man. But just so you know," he added in a low voice, leaning in so only Brett could hear, "this better not put any ideas into Georgia's head." Brett chuckled, clapping Mateo on the back. "Good luck with that," he teased as Gabriel followed suit, shaking Brett's hand with a simple nod of approval.
Whitney, still processing everything, asked, "Do the boys know?" she asked, her voice tinged with a slight worry. Brett nodded, smiling fondly. "They do," he confirmed. "They seemed fine about it. A little excited, actually."
As if on cue, Oliver came barreling into the room, his little legs carrying him straight towards his dad. Brett bent down and scooped him up effortlessly, balancing him on his hip. "Hey, buddy," Brett said, ruffling Oliver's hair. "Can you tell Grandma where the baby is?"
Oliver looked around the room, suddenly aware of all the eyes on him, and then pointed proudly to Santana. "The baby's in Mama's belly!" he announced with the confidence of a seasoned storyteller. "The bird will come and bring the baby to us," he added, matter-of-factly, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.
Whitney couldn't help but laugh softly at Oliver's innocent explanation. "The bird, huh?" she said, her eyes twinkling as she looked between Brett and Santana. "That's quite the story you've told him." Brett shrugged playfully, a grin spreading across his face. "Hey, he asked for the truth, and we gave him the most straightforward version."
Oliver, clearly not finished with the conversation, turned to Sophia, who was now standing beside him. "I want a sister," he declared, the sincerity in his small voice making everyone around smile. Sophia, never one to miss a beat, scooped Oliver out of Brett's arms with ease. "I want a baby girl too!" she echoed, spinning Oliver around in the air, making him giggle with delight.
As the room continued to buzz with excitement, Santana's gaze drifted across the space, landing on her abuela, who stood silently off to the side, watching the scene unfold. Her face was a mask of quiet observation, and for a moment, Santana's heart skipped a beat. Her grandmother had always been a figure of strength and tradition in their family, and her approval meant everything. But the longer Santana stared, the more unsure she became of what her abuela might be thinking. There was no smile, no tears of joy—just a steady, unreadable expression.
Before Santana could dwell on it further, Luis re-entered the room, carrying a bottle of champagne in one hand and a set of flutes in the other. "We need to toast this!" he announced loudly, his booming voice cutting through the chatter. He smiled widely as he made his way over to the group, his energy contagious. "A new baby in the family is always a reason to celebrate!"
Santana forced a smile, but her mind was still on her abuela. Brett, sensing her unease, slid his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. He didn't say anything, but his touch was grounding, a reminder that they were in this together.
Luis popped the champagne bottle with a celebratory "pop," the cork flying across the room to the sound of cheers and laughter. He began pouring the sparkling liquid into the glasses, handing them out to family members one by one. "A toast," he said, once everyone had their glass in hand. "To Brett and Santana. May this baby bring even more joy and love to our family."
Everyone raised their glasses, clinking them together in unison, the sound of crystal ringing out as they took a sip. Well, almost everyone. Santana had opted for sparkling water, her glass standing out among the flutes of champagne. Brett took a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving Santana as he set his glass down and leaned in to kiss her softly on the lips.
As the toast settled and conversation resumed, Santana's attention drifted back to her abuela. She was still standing in the same spot, still watching, still silent. Luis had handed her a glass of champagne, but she hadn't raised it during the toast, and now she was holding it loosely in her hand, her gaze steady on Santana.
Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, Santana made her way over to her. Brett stayed back, giving her space to have the moment she needed. When Santana reached her, she hesitated for just a moment, unsure of what to say. But before she could open her mouth, her abuela spoke.
Before she could muster the words, her abuela spoke first, her voice quiet but heavy with meaning.
"Mija," her abuela sighed, her voice in Spanish, thick with a mixture of love and disappointment as she pulled Santana into an embrace.
For a split second, Santana allowed herself to believe this was a moment of comfort, of shared joy. But her abuela's next words sent her heart plummeting into her stomach.
"Cómo pudieron ser tan irresponsables?" she said softly, the words hitting Santana like a blow to the chest.
Santana stiffened, pulling away from the embrace. Her throat tightened as she met her abuela's eyes, now filled with disapproval. She struggled to respond, searching for words that might bridge the sudden gap between them. But before she could defend herself, her abuela continued.
"Deberíamos haberlo sabido mejor," her abuela muttered, her gaze narrowing. "Salir con un hombre como él... un gringo usado... un hombre que ya ha estado casado antes, que ya tiene hijos. ¿En qué estabas pensando?"
Santana's heart raced, her mind flashing back to all the times her abuela had subtly hinted at her disapproval of Brett. But she hadn't expected this—not now, not after they'd already announced their pregnancy. She felt the weight of her abuela's words pressing down on her, as if every decision she had made was being questioned, scrutinised under the harsh light of tradition and family expectations.
"Abuela, soy una adulta," Santana sighed, trying to keep her voice steady, though she could feel the tremor of emotion rising in her chest.
Her abuela, unmoved by her words, shook her head in dismay. "He's trapped you," she accused, her voice growing sharper. "Ese hombre es una mala noticia. Lo supe desde el principio. Él ya tenía una familia, Santana. Ahora te está arrastrando a su desastre."
The words stung more than Santana expected. She felt a rush of defensiveness surge through her, but before she could respond, Gloria, who had been passing by and overheard, stepped in.
"Alma," Gloria interrupted, her voice firm but respectful. "Esto es una bendición. Un bebé es una bendición."
Santana looked between the two women, her heart pounding as her emotions swirled in the heated exchange. Gloria, ever the peacekeeper, tried to calm the waters, but Santana could see her abuela's head shaking in silent disagreement. Her face remained stern, unmoved by Gloria's attempt to soften the blow.
"I can't believe this," Santana muttered, her voice strained as she fought to keep her composure. She glanced at Brett across the room, still smiling, excitedly showing his parents the baby scans on his phone. He was blissfully unaware of the storm brewing just a few feet away.
"This is happening," Santana said, her voice firm as she addressed her abuela directly. "With or without your blessing." The words felt final, like a door slamming shut between them. Santana's throat burned with the effort it took to hold back her tears, but she refused to let her abuela see her break. She couldn't. Not here, not now.
Turning on her heel, Santana made her way toward the door, her vision blurry as her emotions threatened to spill over. She could feel the weight of her abuela's gaze on her back, but she didn't turn around. All she wanted was to escape, to breathe, to get away from the suffocating expectations that had suddenly crashed down around her.
Brett, still caught up in conversation, caught sight of Santana as she passed. His smile faltered when he saw the look on her face—tears welling up in her eyes, her lips pressed into a thin, trembling line. He barely had time to process what was happening before Santana disappeared out the door and into the cool night air.
"San," he called after her, confusion and concern in his voice. He excused himself quickly, following her outside. By the time Brett caught up with her, Santana was already standing by the side of the house, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, shoulders hunched as if trying to protect herself from the world. She didn't hear him approach until his hand gently touched her arm, pulling her back from the spiral of emotions.
"Hey," he said again, his voice soft, full of worry. "What's wrong? What happened?" Santana shook her head, trying to blink away the tears that were now streaming down her face as Brett pulled her into his arms, holding her close as she sobbed against his chest. He didn't say anything at first, just let her cry, his hand gently stroking her back, trying to offer her some semblance of comfort.
"I'm sorry," Santana whispered through her tears, though she wasn't sure why she was apologising. "I didn't mean to break down like this. It's just… it's my abuela. She's not happy about the baby."
Brett's brow furrowed, his heart aching for her. He hadn't expected this reaction, not from the family that had always been so welcoming, so loving. "What did she say?" he asked gently.
"She thinks you've trapped me," Santana said bitterly, wiping at her eyes. "She called you a 'used gringo,' said you were bad news because you've been married before, because you already have kids."
Brett stiffened at that. The words stung, but he pushed his own feelings aside. Right now, it wasn't about him—it was about Santana and the hurt she was feeling. "Hey," he whispered, tilting her chin up so she'd look at him. "You know that's not true, right?" Santana nodded, sniffling as she looked into his eyes. "Yeah," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "It's just hard…"
"I know it is," Brett said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "But we're in this together. And nothing anyone says is going to change that." Santana nodded again, resting her head against his chest as she let the last of her tears fall.
The sound of footsteps made them both turn slightly. Whitney appeared, her face etched with concern as she took in the sight of Brett comforting Santana. "Everything okay?" she asked softly, her eyes flicking between the two of them.
Brett glanced at his mum, then back at Santana, his arm still around her protectively. "Alma... she didn't take the baby news well," he explained, his voice low. The tension in his shoulders was visible, but he was calm, always the steady one in the storm.
Whitney sighed, her expression softening as she walked over to them. She reached out, placing a comforting hand on Santana's back, rubbing gently in that motherly way that spoke of years of experience in soothing wounds, both physical and emotional. "Oh, honey," she said with empathy, "I get it. I really do."
Santana looked up at her, a hint of curiosity in her red-rimmed eyes. Whitney gave her a small, knowing smile. "You should've seen my mum's reaction when I got pregnant with Brett," she began, and Santana's brow furrowed in confusion. "She was furious—kicked Stephen out of the house and forbade me from seeing him, even though we were already living together at the time."
Santana's lips twitched into a small, reluctant smile. "Seriously?" she asked, the hint of a laugh in her voice. "Yep," Whitney confirmed with a chuckle. "She was convinced I'd ruined my life. We didn't speak for months. But, as you can see, things worked out. She came around eventually. They always do," she added gently, her gaze holding Santana's with quiet reassurance. "Your abuela is probably just in shock. Alma seems very traditional, and none of this meets her expectations of you. And that's okay, because you're not living for her expectations. You're living your life, your way."
Santana's eyes glistened again, but this time not from sadness. The way Whitney said it made her feel seen, understood, and not judged. She nodded slowly, absorbing her words.
Whitney's hand remained on Santana's back as she continued, "Am I over the moon over this? No, not really." Her honesty was disarming, but there was no harshness in her tone, just a simple truth. She turned to Brett, with a look that only a mother could give—a mix of love, concern, and realism.
"You've got two young boys who are still figuring out life without their mum, and they're also still figuring out what Santana means to them." Whitney's voice softened, her eyes flicking between Brett and Santana. "You've only just moved in together and haven't really experienced what your normal is yet."
Brett's jaw tightened slightly; he respected his mother's perspective and knew she wasn't speaking out of anything but love. Whitney sighed softly, her gaze softening again. "But I fully love and support both of you, and you know I will love this baby so much. Too much, probably," she added with a soft laugh.
Santana smiled faintly at that, the kind of smile that comes when you don't have the energy for anything more, but you're grateful for the warmth being offered to you.
Brett gave his mom a small, appreciative nod. "Thanks, Mom," he said, his voice thick with emotion. He wasn't great with words when things got heavy, but his gratitude was clear.
Whitney smiled at him, patting his arm gently. "You two will figure it out. One step at a time. And remember, you've got family around you, all of us, whether we're in shock or not," she teased, glancing back at the house where hers and Santana's family, a whirl of cousins and siblings, were scattered, some still buzzing from the pregnancy announcement.
As she stepped back to let them have their moment, Santana leaned into Brett again, her head on his shoulder. "She's right, you know," she murmured. "It'll take time for everyone to adjust... including us." Brett nodded, his hand brushing through her hair. "Yeah, but we'll do it. Together." His voice was soft, but filled with conviction.
They stood like that for a while, outside under the soft light of the evening, the weight of the world lifting slightly with every passing minute. In Brett's arms, Santana could breathe again, knowing that no matter how hard the road ahead would be, they were not walking it alone.
