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When you get to the restaurant Rachel happily seats you all and greets your mother. Summer taps your shoulder while they're talking about New York. You lean down so that she could whisper in your ear. "Can I order for you?"

You know this is dangerous territory, but you can't help that little grin she has. Especially when she's still wearing her stethoscope around her neck. You nod and ask her what she's going to get you. She just laughs which makes you think that you'll be eating a sandwich when you get home.

Mike walks over before Rachel leaves and he asks your mom what she'd like to drink. You hold your breath waiting for her to ask how many times their water is filtered or to see a wine list that she'll find inadequate. However she just asks for a tea. Then Mike gets Brittany's drink order and when Mike looks at you, Summer says, "Santana wants chocolate milk and me too."

Mike quirks an eyebrow at you and you smirk, "You heard the lady."

He chuckles and nods walking off to get the drinks. "So," your mom looks from Brittany to you, "Tell me how you met."

You groan. You don't want to tell the story. Especially because it makes you seem fairly adolescent. So you look to Brittany and she happily tells the story, making it seem less lame on your part. She adds, "Though Summer met her first."

"Oh really?" your mom asks, looking to Summer. "How did you meet Santana?"

"My friend got hurt on the playground and the teacher asked me to take her to the doctor," Summer states.

"That was certainly nice of you," your mom smiles kindly to Summer.

There's something wrong with your mom. Not really wrong in a bad way, but she's so different. You're going to have to have a talk with her. You don't think that just the convention changed her. Something else has to be going on.

"How long are you going to be in town Mrs. Lopez?" Brittany asks after your drinks have arrived.

"Please call me Maribel," she says to Brittany. Then she shrugs, "I don't really have anything going on. I guess I'll stay as long as Santana can stand having me."

You hold your mom's eyes and earnestly tell her, "You can stay with me as long as you want."

The rest of the dinner goes fantastically. You even enjoyed your dinner of mac n cheese and chocolate milk. You just took a drink of Brittany's water between ever sip and bite. You snatch up the check before your mom can get to it.

Your mom puts her arm around your back as you all walk out to your car in the cool, quiet Lima night. You and your mom stand by the hood of your car while Brittany puts Summer in.

"What's wrong mom?" you ask, putting your arm around her shoulders.

She forces a smile that she knows you know is fake, "I'll tell you later. Let's just have a nice night right now."

When you get back to you apartment, Summer begs to stay, but Brittany tells her it's time to go to bed. You walk them out to their car and kiss Brittany goodnight. You wave to Summer and walk back into your apartment.

Your mom is picking up the box and all the wrappers that Summer's things came in. You walk over to stop her, "I got it mom."

She shakes her head, "I can get it."

You sit down on the couch and wait for her to get back from the kitchen. She walks back into the living room and sits down next to you. You turn to her and plead, "Please tell me what's going on."

You mom angles herself toward you and takes your hands, "Your father and I are... getting a divorce."

At first what she says doesn't register. You blink a few times and then shake your head. "What?"

"I know it may seem sudden, but we've been separated for about a month now and we've both agreed that it's time for us to get it over with," you mom says. The way she says it lends a certain finality to the words.

"Why didn't you tell me about the separation?" you ask. You feel your throat contracting. You'd never seen any problems with them. They were always the perfect couple. You don't know how to process what she's saying.

"I didn't want to worry you. Especially when you're starting two new jobs and living in a new town," she says and squeezes your hands. "I'm sorry to spring it on you like this. Especially because you've just started dating Brittany."

You let it sink in for a moment before asking, "Where are you living?"

She explains, "I've been staying at The Peninsula. I've taken a sabbatical from work. I have a lot of vacation days built up and the hospital board told me to take all the time I needed."

You take a minute just to realize that your parents are splitting up. In your brain it's just floating around, not attaching to anything solid.

Before you can say anything, your mom kisses the side of your head and stands up. "Let's go to bed mija. I'm tired."

You get up and grab some blankets out of your room. You tell her to go sleep in your room. She protests at first, but you lie on the couch and tell her you're not moving. She finally rolls her eyes and tells you that you're the most stubborn person she knows. You tell her that she made you that way. Then she wishes you goodnight.

You lie on the couch staring at the ceiling thinking about your parents. You've never even imagined this. You text Brittany because you need someone to talk to. She may not even be up anymore, but you can try.

She immediately texts you back. Yeah I'm up. Are you okay?

You tell her what's going on and just lie there waiting for an answer. She answers back almost as sweetly, I'm sorry, sweetie. Do you want to call me and talk about it?

You do want to, but you don't want to keep her up. You don't get to decide because your phone rings. It's Brittany and you immediately answer it. "You didn't have to call me."

"Yes I did," she says softly, "I had to make sure you were okay."

"I just," you don't even really have words to describe how you feel. "I don't know how I feel. I'm so surprised. I thought they were doing okay."

"I'm sorry honey," Brittany coos in your ear. "I guess sometimes things don't work out."

You roll onto your side and sigh, "I should have called more often."

"It's not your fault," she tells you. "Not even a little bit."

"I don't know," you sigh. "I don't think it's sunk in yet." You run a hand over your face. "I want my mom to stay with me for a while though."

"That's sweet of you," Brittany adds, "My parents are coming over tomorrow night and we're all going to have dinner. If you and your mom want to come over you can. Maybe it'll take both of your minds off of it for a little while."

"I'll ask her," you reply, "But I bet she'll want to go." You don't think your mom's tendency to be a social butterfly will evaporate just because she's suddenly single.

"My parents want to spend more time with you," Brittany confesses.

"That's scary," you raise your eyebrows in shock.

She chuckles, "Don't be afraid. They just want to get to know you better."

That's still scary as hell. What if they don't like you when they get to know you? You know that Brittany is close with her parents. What happens if they want Brittany to dump you? Other people's parents are scary.

"I wish I could come over and see you," Brittany adds helplessly. "But Summer's already asleep."

"No, don't worry about it," you shake your head. "I'll be okay. I promise."

"I'll see you tomorrow morning okay?" Brittany says. "I'll bring over breakfast."

You start to tell her that she doesn't have to, but you know that never works. She'll do whatever she wants for you. Whenever she wants.

Then she tells you to get some sleep. She tells you that she loves you and wishes you sweet dreams. You miss sleeping next to her, but you're happy knowing that you'll see her in the morning.

Talking wakes you up in the morning. You groan and roll over, trying to bury yourself in the back of your couch. You take a moment and decide that you're not going to be able to get back to sleep. So you roll onto your back and slowly open your eyes. Someone standing over you almost gives you a heart attack.  You jump back into the back of the couch as a tiny giggle erupts from the little girl.

You take a deep breath and slowly roll back onto your back. Summer starts laughing so hard you worry about her breathing. You roll your eyes and sit up on the couch. Scooping her up in your arms as you stand. You tickle her tummy until she begs you to stop.

Usually you're so not a morning person, but seeing Summer and hearing her laugh first thing in the morning changes your demeanor immediately. You walk to your kitchen where you hear voices. When you step in, holding Summer you find your mother and Brittany in the kitchen.

"And then Santana just looked straight ahead," your mom tells Brittany as she stirs something in a skillet. "Everyone is dancing around her and she's just standing there staring out into the crowd like she can't move. When the curtain closed one of the instructors had to pick her up and move her off stage. And that was the end of Santana and dance."

You groan loudly, "Mom. Why do you have to tell that story?" You notice that Brittany's back is to you, but her shoulders are bouncing up and down. She's laughing, but trying to hide it.

"I can't help it," she smiles at you. "It's my favorite story." Your mom departs from the skillet to smooth out your hair. "Go get ready for work mija."

You feel like she's telling you to get ready for school... which she kinda is. You set Summer down and she runs to your couch, throwing herself on it.

You get ready as quickly as possible because you want to quash all childhood stories your mom thinks she may want to share. You leave your bedroom as you're putting up your hair and hear your mom start, "One time when Santana was about Summer's age..."

"No, mom," you say as you step into the kitchen. You figure that you’re going to have to supervise Brittany and your mom from now on.

She pretends to pout, but you know it's all fake. You finally take a deep inhale of the kitchen and smell something you haven't smelled since you were a kid. "Oh my god. You made migas."

"Brittany and I made migas," she corrects you.

You smile at Brittany and say, "Thank you both."

Since you don't actually have a table to eat at, the food gets put on the plates and you all sit around the coffee table. Summer spends about ten minutes picking onions out of her eggs before she starts eating.

"I think I'm going to go get you a dining table today," you mom says after taking a sip of her coffee.

"I don't have anywhere to put a table mom," you put more salsa on your migas and take another bite.

"Of course you do," your mom says. "It'll just be a small one." She turns to the side of the living room opposite the kitchen, where the windows are. She points to a small bookcase you put under the window. "I'll put it over there. It'll be a small table. Put it up against the wall and have three chairs around it that go all the way under it." She smiles, "A place for the three of you. Sometimes you'll need to cook for your girlfriend and when you finally do, she deserves somewhere decent to eat."

Brittany opens her mouth probably to tell your mom that you don't have to, but you answer for her, "I definitely need to cook for her." You shoot a smile to Brittany who smiles adoringly back at you. She has been feeding you daily for a while. It's only fair that you return the favor.

"You still have your rental car?" you ask your mom.

She nods. "I'll be fine, Santana. Don't worry about me. I've heard there isn't much trouble to get into in Lima."

"Mommy, I'm done," Summer presents her plate to her mom. It's clean except for a small pile of sautéed onions on the side.

"Good job," Brittany smiles and takes the plate. "Get ready. We have to go."

Summer looks around the room and walks to the door to get her backpack. You take Summer and Brittany's plates from Brittany and stack them on top of yours. Then you get your moms and take them all to the kitchen.

You feel two hands on your waist as you place the plates into the sink. The taller body of Brittany is pressed against your back. You lean back into her and take her hands, wrapping them as tight as you can around your waist. You find so much solace in her arms.

She gently turns you around and looks at you, concern all over her face. "Are you okay?"

This morning was nice because for a little while you forgot that your parents are splitting up. You always felt that if they could stay together through medical school then anyone could made it. Apparently you were wrong. Your track record isn't all that great. You feel like it might be irrational, but you're shaken.

Brittany seems to take your silence for a no so she pulls you into her arms. You could just stand in her arms all day.

But at that moment Summer runs in, "It's time to go!"

"We'll be right there," Brittany tells her, but doesn't move her arms from around you. She just holds you.

When you hear Summer run away, you look up at Brittany. You cup her cheek and kiss her. You use a tenderness that you didn't know you possessed until you kissed her the first time.

"Tonight after dinner, Summer is going to stay with my parents okay?" she says softly kisses your forehead.

"I don't know if I can leave my mom," you tell her, hating to disappoint her because of whatever she planned tonight.

She smiles against your forehead, "I know. We're just going to talk. My parent's have a great swing on their porch that we can sit on."

You look at her face and see a loving smile. You don't know what you did to deserve her, but if it meant you could keep her forever, you'd do whatever you did over and over everyday for the rest of your life.

"Lunch today?" you ask.

"I wish I could, but I have cafeteria duty this week," She steps away from you and takes your hand, staring to pull you out of the kitchen.

"Boo," you say and allow yourself to be pulled into the living room.

She chuckles and opens the front door for Summer who is waiting as patiently as she can to go outside.

"Mom," you look over at her and see her starting to move the bookshelf from where you put it. She stands up and looks at you. "Do you want to have lunch?"

"Of course," she smiles. "Why don't you come back here? I'll make lunch."

You stop in front of the door, grabbing your purse with your free hand. "You don't have to."

"Santana," your mom puts her hands on her hips, "I'm taking this sabbatical so that I can do the things that I've been missing. I miss cooking."

"Oh that reminds me, do you want to go to Brittany's parents’ house for dinner tonight?" you ask. You glance at Brittany who is using her thumb to remove something from Summer's face that you're sure only moms can see.

"She already asked me," your mom shoots a smile to Brittany. "We're bringing guacamole and your Abuela's lime salsa."

"I make the best guac," you grin.

Your mom chuckles, "Okay honey."

"What do you mean?" you ask, dropping your jaw. Everyone always loves your guacamole.

Your mom smirks and asks, "Aren't you going to be late?"

You love working at the hospital, but there's something nice about helping little kids. Even the high school kids bring you a sense of joy. You know that some of them are faking whatever illness they may have, but you usually give them the benefit of the doubt. You used to fake sickness to go to sales at Bloomingdale's.

You eat lunch with your mom. She made grill sandwiches with some kitchen things you didn't know you had. As you're getting ready to leave, there's a knock on the door. It's a delivery guy with a large box. Your mom signs for it and has the man put it inside.

"Is that my table?" you ask. Your mom really does work fast.

She nods. "It'll be together by the time you get home from work."

You furrow your eyebrows, "Do you know how to put together a table?"

Your mom puts her hands on her hips. "Santana, I have cut open a man's chest, cracked open his ribs, cut out his heart and replaced it with another one. He runs marathons now. I think I can put together a small table."

You raise your hands in surrender, "Sorry."

She laughs and tells you not to forget to pick up avocados on the way home.

You have to say, you're nervous as you get ready to go to Brittany's parents’ house. You thought about tonight after you got back to work after lunch. You were even thinking about it so long that you forgot avocados and had to go back to the store.

"You haven't said anything about your table," your mom says as you absently start walking into your room.

You stop in the living room and look at where the table was supposed to go. Your mom purchased a table that was made of the same wood as your bookshelf and used the bookshelf instead of the outside legs of the table, so that the bookshelf is supporting half of the table. It's a fantastic idea. You turn to your mom, "It looks amazing."

"I'm glad you like it," she hugs you. She then points to your bedroom, "Now go do something with your hair. You can't go to dinner at someone's house with a hair style named after what hangs over a horse’s ass."

You gawk at your mother for a moment before she starts laughing. She disappears into the kitchen and you shuffle your way into your bedroom.

As your mom throws together what she said you'd bring, you straighten your hair and do your make-up. You don't want to wear too much, as if you're trying too hard. But you don't want to look like you didn't try at all.

"This guacamole is going to turn brown by the time you're finished," you mom calls.

You sigh and look at yourself. You're wearing a tank top, but you have a black jacket ready in case it's not acceptable. You have to ask your mom. You hope your shoes look okay. They're boots that you've only worn a few times.

When you walk out your mom smiles at you. "You look nice."

"Really?" you ask pulling the jacket on, "Do I need to wear this?"

"You look perfect," she chuckles and opens the front door for you. "Now we have to go or you're going to make a bad impression by not showing up on time."

"Oh right," you nod absently and grab your keys and your purse.

You follow the directions that Brittany gave you and slowly pull to a stop in front of a gorgeous house. You don't really have time to look at the house because you spot a little blonde girl leaning against the glass of the front door. She enthusiastically waves at you and you wave back. You hope she never gets tired of you.

At the front door, Brittany's mom opens the door. "Hello Santana," she hugs you and you tense up, trying not to drop the guacamole.

Then she hugs your mom. They chat about the wrap around porch and both step outside to discuss the window trim. Summer grabs your hand and pulls you inside. "My grandpa wants to meet you. He's been asking Mommy a bunch of things about you."

You take a deep breath and try to not sweat too much, if you can stop it at all. Summer just keeps pulling you through a very nicely decorated house all the way into a den area. There is a huge overstuffed couch facing a big screen TV. Brittany is sitting, nestled against her dad, watching a baseball game. You can see Summer's toys on the ground. Her microscope is also on the end table with a line of things next to it.

Your heart starts to pound when Mr. Pierce looks up and sees you. Brittany spots you as well and stands up, walking over to you. You can't really think of anything to say except, "I brought guac."

Brittany giggles and gives you a quick peck. "Don't be nervous." Then she takes the bowl from your hands and walks away. As if  leaving you alone with her dad isn't going to make you nervous.

You turn around to follow Brittany when you hear, "So you're Santana."

You slowly swivel back around and realize where Brittany gets her height from. Mr. Pierce is a lean man with greying brown hair and a clean shaven face. He's wearing a polo and khaki pants. You swallow and shove your hands into your pockets, "Yes sir. I'm Santana."

His face shows no kind of emotion. He just looks you over and says, "Mhmm." He pulls you into his arms and you close your eyes waiting to be crushed to death for violating his daughter. Then you hear him laugh as he pulls away, "I'm just messing with you."

You breathe out a small sigh of relief. You're a little less nervous, but still very nervous.

He sits back down and pats the couch next to him. "Have a seat Santana."

You walk around the coffee table in front of him and sit a safe distance away. You look up at the TV and try to keep your eyes on the TV.

"Do you like baseball?" he asks.

You look away from the TV and answer, "Um, I'm not really into sports."

"Do you like TV?" he asks, angling himself so that he can see you better.

You shrug. "I don't watch a lot. Sometimes the news," You give yourself an internal self-five. That makes you sound smart. "And documentaries," Whoa there cowgirl, now you sound pretentious. "And Jersey Shore." Why the hell did that just come out of your mouth? You don't even watch it. You were just trying to think of a way to sound less douchey, but now you sound like you're 16. You wonder why your mouth doesn't work anymore.

He chuckles, getting a kick out of your verbal stumbles.

"She likes to watch cartoons with me," Summer adds, looking into her microscope.

You nod and smile at her. You love watching cartoons with Summer.

Luckily before you get asked another question your mom, Brittany's mom, and Brittany all walk into the den. Mr. Pierce stands up and hugs your mom, introducing himself.

"Honey you should go check on the chicken," Brittany's mom tells her husband.

He nods and kisses his wife, "Yes dear."

When you see them kiss, your eyes flicker to your mom. She looks away from them with her smile fading. You feel a pain in your chest. You know that your parents will never be like that again. If they ever were. You feel like everything you knew about them has been called into question.

Brittany seems to see both of your reactions. She moves to your mom and puts her arm around her shoulders. "Did my mom show you what she did with the guest bathroom?"

"Oh no," Brittany's mom says and motions from your mom to follow her. "I bet you'll have a great idea for what I should do with the shower."

Once they took off down the hallway, Brittany walks over to the couch and sits down. She opens her arms to you and you make your way over to her, sitting on the couch with the side of your leg touching the side of Brittany's. She pulls on you so that you're leaning into her. Then her arms wrap around you holding you tight. "I'm sorry sweetie."

"It's not your fault," you shake your head.

She kisses the side of your head. She curls her fingers around your bicep and her thumb strokes the skin it rests on. "I love you," she whispers with her forehead resting on the side of your head. "I wish I could do something for you and your mom."

"This is great," you reach over and take her free hand, holding it between both of your hands. "Thanks for having us over." You watch Summer carefully place a plastic slide under the microscope and look into it. It blows you away how smart she is.

She kisses your cheek as your moms walk back in. "It's time for dinner ladies," Brittany's mom says to the three of you.    

Dinner is so nice. Before dinner, Brittany took both of her parents into the kitchen under the guise of helping her get dinner, but you know she told them about your mom's divorce because over dinner no one was asked about their relationships and although Brittany's parents look lovingly at each other, they don't kiss.

Your mom's guacamole and salsa go over amazingly and you have to say that Mr. Pierce’s grilled chicken is amazing. Mrs. Pierce goes into the kitchen after dinner and returns with a German chocolate cake. Your mom volunteers to go make some coffee while you've been assigned the job of keeping Summer from diving into the cake before Brittany can cut it.

You lean down and look at Summer, "Where are your phalanges?"

She wiggles her fingers at you.

You grin. "Good job. Okay, where are your ribs?"

She points to her ribs and smiles proudly.

You can't help, but be proud of her too. "Alright," you glance back at Brittany who is putting pieces of cake on the plates, "Where are your tibia and fibula?"

She looks at you for a moment before furrowing her eyebrows. She points to her knee. You shake your head and she points to her shin.

"Yes!" you say and hold your hand up, "High five." She slaps your hand and you turn to Brittany. "Summer is ready for her cake."

"Cake!" Summer yells.

After cake and coffee, you feel sufficiently full. All of your parents go to the living room with Summer. You and Brittany clean off the table together. Once the dishwasher is going and the leftovers are taken care of, Brittany walks up behind you and wraps her arms around your waist. She brushes your hair away and gently kisses the back of your neck.

"Are you ready?" she asks.

You nod slowly. You guess you are. You're not sure what's going to come out of this talk, if anything, but you know that you need to do it.

"The swing is out on the front porch okay?" she tells you. "I'm going to go sit down and you can come out when you're ready."

You're glad that she's giving you a few minutes to get together to go outside. She leaves you in the kitchen and when you built up enough courage you head outside after her.

It's getting chilly out so Brittany is wearing what you assume is one of her mom's sweaters. It's off white and bigger than Brittany's lean frame. She's sitting sideways with a blanket over her legs. You walk over to the swing and lift her feet, sliding under them.

You fold your hands over her shins and pick at the old gray-blue blanket. "So, what now?"

"We can talk," she says. "We don't have to. We can just sit here and be together."

You smile at your hands and then turn your head to look at her. "How do you always know exactly what I need?"

"It's my Santana sense," she picks up one of your hands.

You chuckle and lean back in the swing, pushing off with the toe of your left shoe. You both sway for a little while before you speak. "I still don't know how I'm supposed to feel. Maybe I should feel outraged or depressed. I always thought that they'd be together. They always seemed happy. Were they unhappy and stayed together because of me? Was I a reason they broke up? I mean I wanna know these things, but I can't ask my mom. She won't tell me the truth if the answer to any of that is yes."

"You've done everything they wanted you to do," Brittany runs her thumb over your knuckles, "What could they have possibly broken up for because of you?"

"I don't know, but it could be something, anything really," you say desperately, "Any small thing could have triggered something huge. Like that 'C' I got in History."

"When?" Brittany asks like she already knows the answer.

"High school," you mumble.

"Babe, they didn't break up over a C you got in high school," she tells you while trying to squash a smile on her lips.

You look down again and you can feel the tears finally start to surface. You can see the smile disappear from Brittany's face from the corner of your eyes. She lifts up one of her legs and puts it behind you before pulling you to her so that you're leaning back against her. Her arms encircle you. You turn a little so that you can rest the side of your head on her shoulder. You don't know why you feel this crushing sadness. You weren't really super close to your parents like Brittany is to hers, but they were always together and now they're not.

Then you start thinking about your future. You think about how fragile relationships are. How little cracks can destroy the whole thing. You think about how easily you could fuck up this beautiful thing you have with Brittany. You think about Summer and how you never want her to feel the way you feel.

"What are you thinking?" Brittany asks quietly.

You tell her everything you're thinking. You don't leave anything out. By the time you're done talking there are tears streaming down your face.

Brittany is quiet and you're scared that you hurt her with your thoughts or scared her or made her angry. You look up at her and see her looking out into the dark night, thinking intensely.

"Britt?" you ask. You despise your weak, pathetic voice when you try to get her attention.

She looks down at you. Her eyes bore into yours and you feel her all over your body, on the outside and inside. She picks up one of her hands and cups your cheek, using her thumb to brush over your skin. "Do you love me?"

"Yes," you immediately answer. You don't know why she would think that you didn't.

She keeps holding your eyes when she says, "Well I love you too." She softly kisses you, drawing it out. Her eyes are still closed when you open yours. Her eyes slowly open and she gives you a genuine smile. "All we can do is try our best. We're not your parents. We're not my parents. We're us. We're Santana and Brittany and we love each other. That's what counts."

You slip your arms around her and lay your head on her shoulder. You close your eyes and feel her fingers venture under your shirt, playing around the small of your back. It feels good having the warm skin of her fingers on the warms skin of your back. Just having her touching you is comforting in ways you can't fully understand.

"So I guess you aren't going camping this weekend," Brittany says.

You chuckle, "I don't want to leave my mom for a whole weekend."

"I understand," Brittany answers. You know that she didn’t really want to go camping, but she seems a little disappointed.

You hate to disappoint Summer though. So you speak an idea. "How about we camp in your back yard? I know it's not real camping, but we can stay in town and Summer will be happy."

"That's a great idea," Brittany tightens her arms around you.

The front door opens and you open your eyes, seeing Summer run over to the swing. "Mommy can I stay here tonight?"

"Did Grandpa say it was okay?" Brittany asks.

"He asked me if I wanted to," Summer states, rocking back and forth.

Brittany pretends to think about it until Summer is jumping up and down. Brittany chuckles, "Can I have a kiss?"

Summer puts her hands on the side of the swing and pushes up on her toes to give her mom a kiss. Then she asks, "Can I please?"

"Yes," Brittany grins at her daughter. Her eyes light up when she looks at Summer and it is all kinds of beautiful.

Summer squeals and runs back inside.

You laugh with Brittany and bury your face in her sweater. "So you're going to be alone tonight?"

"Maybe," she chuckles mysteriously. She looks down at you, "Did you have an idea?"

"I did," you look up at her. "You don't have to let me stay over, but I think I'd feel better if I could stay with you tonight. It's not a big deal though."

"Of course," she kisses your forehead. "You can stay with me whenever you want."

Your mom comes outside a few minutes later while you and Brittany are just lying on the swing. Brittany's hand immediately disappears from the small of your back and you giggle. Apparently you're not the only nervous one. Brittany even sits up a little straighter.

"Are you girls okay?" she asks, her hands wrapped around a coffee mug.

You sit up a little more. "Yeah."

Your mom narrows her eyes at you. She doesn't quiet believe you. You forgot that you didn't wipe your face after crying, but you thought you face was dry. It must be puffy and red. You look away from your mom. "Will you be okay by yourself tonight? Brittany and I have a lot a talking to do."

You mom nods. "Of course." She walks over to the swing and brushes your hair away from your face. She runs her thumb under your eye and says, "I love you, mija. I guess we need to talk later as well."

You look up at her. "I love you too mom."

Then your mom turns to Brittany. "Take care of my baby okay?"

You look up at Brittany. She smiles at your mom and nods, "I promise." She says it seriously and something deep inside of you knows that she means it. It feels really good knowing that someone not only will, but wants to take care of you. It’s a new feeling to you.

"Thank you," your mom says genuinely. You love that they are getting along. You don’t know what you’d do if they weren’t.

You and Brittany get up to head to her house. You thank Mr. and Mrs. Pierce for dinner and give your mom the keys to your car and apartment because she rode with you. Summer makes sure to give you a hug before you leave.

"Are you sure you're okay?" you ask your mom as she walks with you out to your car that's right behind Brittany's.

She hugs you and tells you that she'll be fine and to stop worrying about her. But you’re going to keep being concerned. You know it. You cross your arms and keep looking at her, “Do you know how to get back?”

“Yes,” your mom pretends to be exasperated. “I drove across town and found my way back getting your table.”

You nod to your mom and tell her that you love her again. She hugs you one more time and kisses your cheek, telling you that she loves you more than anything.

With one last parting, worried look to your mom, you walk over to Brittany’s car. She opens the door for you and you climb in. When she gets into the car, she starts it and holds her hands out to you. You smile and take her hand, your fingers sliding together as she takes you back to her house.