Disclaimer: Ugly Betty is the property of Silent H Productions, Reveille and Ventanarosa, and Touchstone Television. I have no claim to them, only to my written words.
Author's Note: To Mary, Tracy, and Regina for inspiration. To all the lovely people over at the I-C chat room for encouragement. This is for you all.
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He never meant to fall in love like this. Not so hard. Not so deep.
Henry Grubstick had always been a one woman kind of man, Betty's man…that was until he laid on eyes on HER. To say it was love at first sight would have been massively understating things. This was a mind-blowing, life-altering love. The type of love that rarely comes around, so that when you were blessed enough to have it bustle by, you closed your eyes, held your breath, and allowed yourself to get caught up in the whirlwind romance.
He was in awe of her beauty. She had her mother's eyes—creamy, liquid chocolate gems that melted his inner being every time they would sparkle upon setting sight of him. She flashed her father's toothy grin—the kind of smile that lit up a room when it stretched from ear to ear. Her hair was velvety between his fingers and kissed him with gentle tickles every time he would bury his face to inhale her vanilla scent. And her skin, GOD her skin—buttery smooth, unblemished perfection. Henry would be perfectly content being blind, deaf, and dumb as long as he could always remember the way her soft cheek felt when it grazed against his. There was no denying it—her exquisiteness set the beat of his heart.
But, if her looks were burned in his heart, then her charm was his etched into his soul. She was a spit fire, for sure, a ball of kinetic energy that bounced from wall to wall making an impact wherever she hit. Sometimes it was with messy results, other times constructive, every time glorious. She was unabashedly, unapologetically blunt—her emotions were raw, impulsive, impassioned. What you saw is what you got. And that was more than enough and not enough all at the same time for Henry. Because it meant her laugh, the type filled with so much warmth it made him higher than any drug could have, was only meant to convey that he had made her as happy in that moment as she did in all of his. And best of all, when she cooed in his ear with devotion it was like Heaven's Gate opened, the angels' aria welcoming him in.
Yes, Henry was most definitely, hopelessly, happily, in love.
Not that life was perfect. There was an unconscious struggle for his love between his two ladies. Balancing his energy, generosity, love, and time for both ladies required a certain finesse that Henry had yet to master.
Betty got his days. The bouquets of fresh picked pink Gerber daisies, resting on her night stand, their sweet fragrance whispering 'Good Morning, Sweetheart'. The breakfasts in bed of fresh squeezed orange juice, pancakes, and a slightly burnt portion of huevos rancheros. The love notes to invoke giggles and smiles during rough work days. The absent-minded hand caresses as they rode the subway home from work. The foot rubs in front of the fire, as she typed the latest revolutionary article for MODE and he read another Russian classic filled with tragic characters whose names he couldn't pronounce. And after he made sure Betty slept peacefully, assured of his love for her, the secret, barely-there goodnight kiss as he snuck away to see the Other Woman.
His second love, his newest love, she got his nights. Henry would steal away in the twilight hours to visit her. She was always doe-eyed awake, waiting for him. They would share secret hellos of kisses and smiles. Never was there a mention of Betty—it was just the two of them in their own world, running on borrowed time. Dawn was chasing them, and memories were waiting to be made.
So, with hushed steps, he would he walk to the record player, place the needle on the old LP, until the dulcet tones of "Moon River" filled the air with its melody of hope and love. And they would dance, no steps in particular but blissfully happy just to be pressed together. He was her guide, and she would gratefully follow him to the ends of the earth.
When she was without him, she was insecure about her place in the world, more specifically, in his. But every night, he would hold her tightly, rock her gently, and whisper the words to their song until she fell asleep in his arms.
Henry Grubstick loved Betty, he always would. But, as every night with his Other Woman affirmed it, she would have to share his heart. Henry had two true loves in his life, Betty Suarez-Grubstick and His Other Woman…
….their daughter, Angela Elizabeth Grubstick.
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Moon River, wider than a mile,
I'm crossing you in style some day.
Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker,
wherever you're going I'm going your way.
Two drifters off to see the world.
There's such a lot of world to see.
We're after the same rainbow's end--
waiting 'round the bend,
my huckleberry friend,
Moon River and me.
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