A Love Like No Other: The Sequel

Chapter 15

(Brittany's POV)

It took me a good few days before I started talking again, Santana never left my side. She looked after me whilst I got over the trauma of what happened. Turns out after Joel got a few good kicks in I came away relatively unscathed, just a couple of bruised ribs, I was prescribed some strong ass painkillers and was sent on my way. Having Santana around again has been nice, we haven't argued, no atmosphere, no animosity between the two of us. Over the past couple of weeks we haven't really had the chance to sit and talk about our separation or the divorce. I don't even know if I should bring it up to her, I have no idea where her head is at with it all. All I know is, we have been working. Question is, are we working because this is the set up that now works for us? Santana staying each night but in a different room. No romance, no sweet lady kisses, nothing to imply this relationship is anything but platonic now. Are we just better off as friends?

"Well that's the last of my stuff packed, are you sure you don't want me to stay any longer?" Santana asks as she clutches the handle of her case ready to move back into her own penthouse. I don't want her to go, panic begins to set in but I push it all down as much as I can, not to reveal my despair at her departure. "I'll be fine, you're only a couple of blocks away. No one has heard from Joel or seen him since that night, so I think he's probably far far far away from here. Just thank you for everything." I pull her into a friendly but loving hug. "What are you going to do about the showcase?" Santana asks, leaning up the door frame, procrastinating her own leaving. "Oh I'm not worrying about that. I'll just get one of the other teachers to step in." I wave my hand motioning that I have everything sorted and under control. "You know who would be a good fit?" she points at me stating her suggestion. "Brody!" She says as if its the most obvious answer in the world. "Pretty sure he's a gigolo and probably snorts bricks like there's no end..but the guy can dance" I chuckle at Santana's way of describing people. "I'll talk to him on your colourful recommendation then" .

I remain standing on one side of the door, as Santana stands on the other. There is a mutual feeling lingering about not wanting the other to leave, but neither of us saying anything through fear of rocking the now seemingly steady boat. "I should probably get going" Santana says assertively, yet her eyes telling another story. "Yeah.." Santana kicks out her case on it's wheels before giving me one last hug. "Bye" she turns on her heels, "Unless.." at that one word she snaps back round so quickly she almost trips over her own case "Unless what?" she asks eagerly.  I stand in silence for a couple of seconds that feels like hours, scanning her face for a clue about how she's feeling, what she wants. The words 'come home' are on the tip of tongue, my brain won't connect with my tongue, I could ask her to come back and we could end up back at square one, unhappy. "Never mind..." defeat on her face. "I guess I'll see you next week at Quinn and Rachel's?" she says with all the hope she has put into that question. I nod my head as she leans back in for another hug before getting into the elevator and going home.

I close the door and go straight upstairs into the guest room where Santana had been sleeping, I crawl under the sheets and cocoon myself in them, wrapping myself in her scent. I grab one of her pillows and clutch it so tightly against me, imaging it's her in my arms. I close my eyes for a moment, the image of Santana in my arms distorts and I see Joel. I open my eyes startled and confused. I close my eyes again hoping to regain the image of Santana, but all I see is Joel. He hurt me, not just physically but mentally too. But I would be lying if I said I hadn't thought about him. At his best, he was the sweetest, kindest most chivalrous guy you could meet. He was great with the kids and despite the dadda drama he is amazing with Iz and the boys and I know they miss him too. Time has passed, maybe enough time to reach out to him? Talk about what happened, sort it and put it to bed. I groan out in frustration over my conflicted mind.

(Santana's POV)

I arrive home to my quiet and prominently empty penthouse, I already miss the noise of the kids running around freely and Britt shouting after them to slow down before they knock and break another expensive vase, I chuckle to myself at the memory. I shove my case in my bedroom and flop onto the bed. I feel contaminated, but not in a bad way. I have been staying with Britt and the kids for about four weeks, making sure they're safe, that she's safe. I feel like I have got Brittany all over, she's in my hair, my skin, my clothes and it's sending my body and mind into overdrive, it's too much for my senses to handle, I have to rid myself of the deep set Brittany sense that is consuming me. I throw the entire contents of my case into the washing machine as I go and take a long hot shower using copious amounts of body wash to replace the smell of Strawberries that's on me.