Marc leaned in the glass door by Betty's desk and tossed a file folder at her. It landed with a smack on her keyboard.
"Hey Betty, there's your file and article on that idea 'Necklaces Through the Ages'. Daniel hated it." He immediately turned to leave.
"Wait Marc, he hated it?" Betty's heart sank. "Did he say that? That doesn't sound like Daniel."
Marc rolled his eyes. "Okay fine, I hated it. He said it needed to be sexier or something like that. And you're supposed to get right on that."
Betty was relieved but puzzled. "How am I supposed to make necklaces sexier?"
He nodded. "I know, that's what I tried to tell him. Talk about assigning an impossible task that's way out of your element. That's like telling Kanye West to do a lecture on impulse control and tact."
"Oh, Marc," she turned her computer monitor toward the door so she could show him the montage she'd created for Matt for Christmas. "What do you think?"
He sighed like it was an extreme hassle to answer her question. "Well…" he looked like he was thinking for a moment and then he answered. "That Christmas sweater you're wearing takes tacky to a whole new level, you are unfairly in a position that should rightfully be mine because you lucked out in a coin toss, and your billionaire boyfriend is way out of your league."
"It was more of a specific question about the photo-montage," she said with annoyance, ignoring his insults.
"Oh that. It's…nice."
"Really?"
"I don't know and I don't really care Suarez," he said making a face and rolling his eyes again as he left.
She turned the monitor back around. She thought it was nice anyway, hopefully Matt would too. They were supposed to go out for dinner tonight, and exchange their presents because it was their last chance to be alone before the craziness of the next couple of days.
Christmas Eve was big at Betty's house and they were going to spend the evening there after spending a few hours with Matt's mom. Victoria had guilted him into it by reminding him how depressing the holidays could be for people who were alone.
Christmas Day was going to be even crazier as they split their time between the Suarez house, and both of Matt's parents.
She put the special photo paper that she'd bought especially for it into the printer and went back to her desk to hit the send button. A few minutes later Megan appeared beside her desk, hands on her hips and snide expression on her face, holding her photo paper.
"Why did my article print on holly framed photo paper?" She looked annoyed.
"What? Oh no, my montage!" Betty snatched the photo paper out of her hand and saw the paragraphs plastered across it. Her heart sank; it was the only piece of photo paper she had.
"Your montage? What about my article?"
"I'm sorry, that paper was supposed to be for my montage. I guess you'll have to reprint your article."
Megan huffed and turned around to go back to her desk.
Betty got up from the desk to retrieve the montage that, obviously, would have printed on plain paper. Maybe there was some photo paper around here somewhere she could use when she printed it again. She'd pay Mode back for it – she would hate for anyone to think she was gouging the company. She'd have to remember to ask Daniel.
The rest of the morning passed without incident. She managed to find some photo paper and print the montage. And she started working on an idea to sex up her article despite the fact that she thought it was ridiculous to try and sex up necklaces, especially ancient ones, and this was why she didn't belong in a fashion magazine for the rest of her life. It wasn't until around noon that the excitement level started to pick up, and not in a good way.
Betty walked up to the round, orange reception desk to check for messages. Amanda was out for an extended lunch for some "important" appointment at the vet for Halston or something, so Betty thought, if she actually wanted to receive her messages, now was as good a time as any.
She looked up just as Marc exited the elevator carrying a couple of large, bulky, rectangular items. Upon further inspection she realized they were paintings of some sort. As he approached the desk to see if any messages had come while he was at lunch, Betty noticed they were familiar.
Suddenly she got a sick feeling. They were two of Matt's paintings. One was the picture of her, or rather her chest, or Matt's interpretation of it anyhow - enormous breasts in a white print dress with cleavage that would make even Hilda blush. Although the painting didn't have a face, the all too familiar "B" necklace on it served as a clear giveaway that it was supposed to be her.
The other was kind of a matching one, in that she was wearing the same white print dress with the same cleavage. But in the second one she was showing an indecent amount of leg as she suggestively straddled a terrified, shirt-torn Matt lying on the floor. She held a huge knife in her hand, poised to stab him viciously in the heart. It was equally erotic and horrific. Betty was mortified. Somehow she'd missed that one at the gallery.
"Marc! Where did you get those?"
"Oh, these?" he said innocently. "Mandy bought one at that art thing you did for Matt the other week, remember?"
"Yes, I remember."
"And I found the other later that evening. I couldn't resist, I had to buy it. They're kind of a matching set, see?" He turned them both toward her so she could look.
"I meant why did you bring them here, to work?"
"Well, Mandy doesn't know about the second one and I know she's going to looove iiit." He intoned the last part in song and then he added seriously, "Mum's the word, Betty. I don't want you blowing my surprise with your big blabber mouth."
"Marc why are they here…today?" Betty couldn't prevent the elevated and frustrated tone. She was getting flustered as she noticed a crowd of co-workers walking up the tube; she wanted to prevent anyone from seeing them.
"I dropped them off at a shop to have them framed for her as a Christmas present and I just picked them up now, when I was out for lunch. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to hide them behind my desk before she comes back and sees me with them."
She wasn't sure if she was more mortified that he had them in the office or that he'd had them framed so Amanda could hang them somewhere in their apartment - but first things first.
"You are not dragging those through the office. Give them to me," she insisted, reaching out for them.
Marc quickly backed away from her. "Chill out chunky churro, it's just art."
He turned and started walking away. Betty saw a few eyes glance at the paintings and then at her, and a couple of people giggled. She dashed after him and grabbed him by the elbow.
"Get over here." She steered him down a side hall. "Marc, I don't think it's a good idea for you to be parading those around the office."
"What am I going to do Betty, bring them home in the middle of the day? Unlike some people, I actually work hard during my day at the office. I don't have time to take them back to the apartment."
"Couldn't you have picked them up on the way home?"
"Hmm, I never thought of that," he smirked smugly. "Don't worry, I won't show them to many…uh, I mean anybody."
"Marc…" Betty threatened him with her tone.
"Come on Betty, they are actually quite flattering." He held the chesty one up against her and examined critically. "Matt is quite an artist, although conceptually he's obviously more into abstract than realism."
A couple of coworkers wandered down the tube, glancing down the side hall in their direction. One of them noticed the painting and said something to the other, laughter ensued and Betty was horrified again. She opened the supply closet door that had been left ajar and shoved him and the paintings inside so no one else would see them while they spoke. The guilt from the art gallery incident was swelling up, threatening to overwhelm her and she needed to prevent a recurrence. Shutting the door behind her, she flicked the light switch on the wall and then turned to face him.
"Listen here Marc, you've have insulted me, berated me and humiliated me and I have borne it patiently and calmly, and if this was just about me I'd ignore it. But this is about Matt. I'm asking you, as a compassionate human being and in the spirit of Christmas, please don't show those around the office. It's bad enough that the art show, which was completely my fault, displayed his, uh, feelings or whatever, to family and friends and even complete strangers, he doesn't need everyone around Mode witnessing it as well."
"In case you've forgotten, Elvis is leaving the building, Betty. He quit, remember? Tomorrow is his last day. In fact, as of tomorrow, Mode and Meade will be a Hartley free zone because Papa Hartley has flown the coop too. Does any of this sound familiar?"
"That doesn't mean he needs to be humiliated during his last couple of days here," she argued.
Marc sighed and then remarkably, and unexpectedly, conceded without much of a fight.
"What do you suggest I do with them?"
"Well…" She thought for a minute. "Maybe you could leave them in here?"
"Fine," he barked. "But if they're missing when I go home tonight, you are buying Amanda a new Christmas gift for me." He paused for a second as he thought about it. "Ugh…but no clothes." He thought some more and then made a face. "Or accessories." He thought again. "Or knickknacks. You know what, forget I suggested that."
Betty rolled her eyes and then turned around to open the door but the knob wouldn't turn. She tried it a few more times and the panic in her gut started to spread throughout her entire body when she still had no success.
"Funny Suarez, open the door," Marc said with annoyance.
"I can't." She tried one more time.
"What? Get out of my way." Marc shoved her aside and tried the knob. "Nooooo." He whimpered and then banged his head on the door when he realized it was locked.
"Don't panic Marc. We'll just bang and someone will come and let us out." She started banging on the door. "Help! Help! Is anyone there? We're stuck in the supply closet."
"Uuughhh!" Marc slumped to the floor. "We're in the back hall. Nobody comes down this hall unless they need something in the supply cupboard. No one's going to hear you Betty." He perked up a bit. "What about your cell phone?"
"It's on my desk."
He groaned again and asked accusingly, "Why don't you have it on you?"
"I was just at reception checking for messages," Betty replied defensively. "What about you? Weren't you just out for lunch?"
"You were the one who so brilliantly decided to lock us in the supply cupboard," he retorted avoiding her question.
"But surely you have your phone with you?" Betty asked.
"Stop changing the subject Betty," Marc said with annoyance.
"Marc. Where is your phone?" She put her hands on her hips and asked again, very directly.
It was obvious he didn't have it on him but now she was curious about it. He didn't answer.
"Marc?"
"It's in my desk," he finally answered sheepishly.
"You went out for lunch and didn't remember your phone? What if Daniel had an emergency?"
"How do you think I survived for as long as I did as Wilhelmina's assistant, without losing my mind, Betty? I needed to occasionally 'forget' my phone or the woman would have had me running all over the city on my lunch and I wouldn't get a moment's peace."
Betty nodded thoughtfully about that, he kind of had a point. "Okay, but you're Daniel's assistant now and he's not like that."
"He never had you run an errand when you were on lunch?" Marc asked skeptically.
She thought for a second, trying to recall. She supposed he did but to her it never really felt like an imposition. She was always happy to do it.
"I guess…"
"See?" he replied before whimpering again. "We're going to die in here."
He jumped up and started banging on the door with his fist. "Help! Help!"
"We're not going to die," Betty said with annoyance.
"Sure we are. They'll find us curled up in two little balls like dehydrated potato bugs. The one saving grace is that I'm impeccably dressed today." He looked down at his outfit wistfully and then his eyes went wide as they rested on his shoes. "Except for these old shoes I threw on as I ran out the door this morning. Great. Thank you very much Betty. Thanks to you I'm going to die in last season's Jimmy Choos."
"Marc, you're being ridiculous. We're not going to dehydrate like potato bugs. A person can go three days without water."
"You're right." Betty thought he might actually be feeling better until he gasped dramatically as he thought of something else. "We'll run out of air long before that happens!" He started hyperventilating.
He took a deep breath of his inhaler, shrugged his coat off onto the floor, threw off his scarf and urgently started pulling at his tie.
"The air is thin already, I'm feeling light-headed. Stop hogging all the air with your monstrous sized lungs, Suarez." He covered her mouth and nose with his hand so she couldn't breathe.
She tried to push his hand away but it didn't work, he was grasping too tight. They had a little scuffle but he was freakishly agile with arms a lot longer than hers and he was somehow able to fend her off with one hand while he kept his other firmly over her face. Using all of her might she shoved him back against the shelves. She didn't think it hurt him but the shock caused him to loosen his grip so she could finally free herself. She took a big gulp of air, happy for the oxygen.
"Marc! Would you calm down? What are you trying to do kill me?"
"I was trying to conserve oxygen; the killing part would just be an added benefit," he replied still looking panicked.
"We're in a storage room, Marc, not a refrigerator - it's not air tight." She pointed to the crack under the door.
He sighed with relief and immediately started calming down.
She couldn't believe his melodrama sometimes. She looked around the room and noticed an air vent three quarters of the way up the wall to the left of the door so she pointed up.
"And look, there's an air vent; there's even air flow. An air vent!" She suddenly remembered crawling through a vent with Henry to find Mr. Meade's will.
Of course she didn't have Henry to do the calculations and figure out where to go but where they ended up didn't matter as long as they got out of the closet.
"I have an idea, Marc. One of us needs to climb through that vent to another part of the office and then come back and let the other one out."
Marc looked at her like she was crazy. "Let me get this straight: Your brilliant idea involves one of us climbing into that dingy, dusty, apparel-destroying rat tube?"
She nodded feeling hopeful about this new plan.
"So by 'one of us' you mean you, obviously."
"Why me?" she asked, remembering how hot, stuffy and claustrophobic it was when she crawled through it with Henry.
"Hmm, let me think…" He pretended to ponder it for a second, even dramatically placing his finger on his chin for emphasis. "Oh I know, because these pants are virgin wool Dolce and Gabbana and this vest is a brand new Marc Jacobs. And you're wearing who? What is the Walmart brand…Fred or something, right?"
She rolled her eyes at him. She didn't want to argue and she really wanted to get out of tight quarters with him. Besides, upon deeper reflection, she wasn't positive she could trust him to come back and get her out right away. Knowing Marc he'd go back to his desk and forget about her for a couple of hours.
"Fine." She said with annoyance. "Thank goodness I'm wearing pants today and not a skirt." She examined her pants, shirt and new red Christmas cardigan with green and gold ornaments embroidered on the pockets, hoping they'd survive the vent.
"Believe me we're all thankful for that. I wasn't going to say anything but seeing as you brought it up, those stumps you call legs really belong behind fabric and not just thin, stretchy tights. Dimples might be cute on a face Betty, but on a pair of knees...ugh…not pretty." He shuddered.
She held her tongue even though his insults were starting to annoy her. "Boost me up."
Marc looked stunned and didn't move.
"I said, give me a boost." She slipped off her shoe and lifted her foot hoping he'd put his hands together and she could step in them.
"You're joking." He still didn't move.
"No, I'm not joking. How am I supposed to get up there unless you help me?"
"I thought you'd climb the shelves or something."
"I can't climb the shelves, there's too much stuff on them and I have no idea if I'd pull them over on top of us. Stop being such a baby and make a step with your hands so I can get up there."
He bent over slightly and locked his hands together so she could put her foot in them. He grunted when she stepped into them. She braced herself with her left hand on a shelf and the other on his head.
"Watch the hair, Betty!" He grimaced like he was in pain.
"Do you want to get out of here or not?" she responded, aggravated. She reached the vent with her right hand and took off the grate dropping it to the floor with a clang.
"Oh God Suarez, hurray, you're killing me," he said with another grunt.
"Lift me up a little."
"Lift you up!" he exclaimed with astonishment. "Have you lost your mind? I'm not Superman. How am I supposed to lift you up?"
"I thought you worked out at the gym or something. Where's your muscle?"
"I do reps to maintain my slender physique not weight training for the Olympics. The Incredible Hulk would have trouble with this dead weight. Couldn't you cut back on the donuts?"
"Criticism of my weight is not helpful at this juncture," she reminded him. "Suck it up and try to get me higher."
He grunted loudly again and tried to lift but was unsuccessful.
"Let me climb on your back," she suggested.
"What?" He sounded appalled.
"Well, then you can use the muscles in your legs to lift me up."
He bent down farther and she stepped onto his shoulder blade with the other foot eliciting a groan which she ignored. Then she pulled the foot that had been in his hands up and put it on his back as well, still clinging to the shelf and the vent for balance.
"Now try to stand up slowly."
"You've got to be kidding me," he replied with exasperation.
"I need to get higher Marc, or I can't climb in," she explained.
He started standing slowly and only a small amount, but it was just enough. She stuck both of her arms and her head into the vent in front of her, grabbed the sides and pulled herself up and into the stuffy enclosure, scraping her shoulders on the edge of the vent as she did. Her weight was off of Marc now and her upper half was in the vent with only her hips and legs still dangling. She relaxed a little, pulling her arms back nearer to her sides. It was really tight though. She didn't remember the vent she had climbed through with Henry being this small. In fact she wasn't going to be able to crawl; she was going to have to shimmy along on her belly like a snake. She exhaled to try and psyche herself up for it. She didn't really like small spaces but someone had to try and get them out of here.
She reached out in front of her again and tried to pull herself further in with her arms and that's when she realized it. She was stuck. Her shoulders were too wide and the vent was pressing in on both sides. She couldn't go further in even if she wanted too. In fact, she wasn't going to be able to wiggle back out without some help either.
"I need to get back down, Marc," she said softly, loathe to admit it to him, her voice sounding tinny and flat in the stuffy vent.
"What? I can hardly hear you," Marc's voice sounded faint.
She raised her voice so he could hear. "I need to come back down."
"Why?"
"I just do." She started to breathe heavier, the panic rising in her.
It was so hot in the vent – she should have taken off her sweater. She was starting to feel a little nauseous.
"Now is not the time to get all phobic on us Suarez. Take a few deep breaths and get a move on."
"I'm stuck Marc," she finally had to admit it to him.
"God, I knew we shouldn't have tried to fit an enormous round peg – a buttress if you will - in that tiny square hole."
It's funny how his insults came out loud and clear.
"Shut up and pull me out, dork."
He grabbed her by the legs and tugged. She felt the pressure of the sides of the vent on her shoulders but she didn't move.
"You really are stuck," he commented, as if his assessment of it was the only true one.
"I think I established that. Try again," she urged.
He tried again but she still didn't move.
"Yep, definitely wedged in there tighter than Elle Macpherson's massive canoes stuffed in size nine shoes."
"Pull harder Marc."
"If I pull any harder your legs will pop off," he said with annoyance. "Let's face it, you're not coming out of there without some severe demolition or lots of lubricant."
"Marc, I'm serious."
"So am I Betty, and believe me, nobody wants you out of there more than I do."
"Uh…I kind of think maybe I want me out of here more than you do," she begged to differ.
"Hmm…well maybe it's a toss up. I'm telling you, the view from here leaves a lot to be desired." He gasped, suddenly realizing something else. "And now you're blocking the main air hole. Okay, that settles it, I definitely want you out more."
He might have continued on in his paranoid little rant but she didn't know because she tuned him out and rested her head on her hands which were folded in front of her, trying to maintain her composure. She was starting to sweat, her pulse was increasing and she felt like she wasn't getting enough air no matter how much she breathed in. A stupid, fleeting thought of how her death two days before Christmas would totally mess up the holidays for the rest of her family, not just this year, but for a long time, crossed her mind and she quickly shoved it aside. She wanted to cry, or scream, but freaking out would not be at all helpful. She shifted positions a little and tried to move again but still had no success.
Just when she thought she was going to lose it and fall into full fledged panic she felt some fresh air on her legs and heard another voice.
"Marc?" It was Daniel and he was obviously surprised to find Marc in the supply closet.
"Daniel!" Betty hollered, never so happy to hear his voice in her entire life and wanting to cry with relief now.
She was still stuck but the presence of someone else - someone presumably more helpful than Marc - brought with it all the hope of Christmas. And if she could only get out of the vent at least now she'd be out of this closet.
"Betty? Is that you? What are you doing up there?" Daniel sounded a little flabbergasted, and somewhat muffled, but she could still make out what he was saying.
"I'm stuck and Marc is useless," she explained loudly, her irritation with Marc very obvious.
She was embarrassed at the predicament but her relief at potentially being rescued far outweighed the humiliation at having to explain her awkward position.
"Harsh Suarez. It's hardly my fault you grossly underestimated what size hole you can squeeze into."
"Marc, you are starting to annoy me." It was such a complete understatement it might have been funny if she wasn't starting to become consumed by the fact she was in an aluminum death trap. "Can you try to pull me out Daniel, please?"
"Uh…sure." Daniel sounded hesitant but she felt his firm grip on her calves and he tugged gently; she hardly moved.
"You have to pull harder," she urged, raising her voice to make sure he heard her.
"I don't want to hurt you Betty." He sounded worried.
"You won't, besides I'd rather a little pain than to suffocate in here. It's really hot and stuffy and I'm having trouble breathing."
She tried not to let him hear the anxiety and panic she was starting to feel but he must have because suddenly he had that determined, reassuring tone of his.
"You won't suffocate. I'll get you out, I promise. Are you ready?"
"Yeah, go for it."
He pulled much more soundly and she moved slightly in that attempt. She felt his hands move from her calves, and he gripped her firmly around the waist and simultaneously as he yanked, she heard Marc say, "You might want to brace yourself so she doesn't…"
Betty slid free, her full weight, now that none of her was resting on the vent, taking Daniel completely by surprise so that his knees buckled and they both fell in a big mass of appendages and torsos on the floor.
"fall on top of you," Marc finished, as he stood there looking down at them in a heap.
Betty didn't even want to think about what an awkward, almost compromising position they were in. She hopped up quickly so she didn't have to. She was just so relieved to be free and be able to breathe properly she almost didn't care about the awkwardness. She straightened her glasses.
"Are you okay?" she asked Daniel.
"I'm fine." He winced a little as he sat up.
She held her hand out to help him up and he took it, grabbed a shelf with the other and pulled himself off of the floor.
"I'm not sure if it's a greater Christmas miracle that you actually came out of there or that your immense sturdiness didn't crush Daniel when you crash landed on top of him."
Betty ignored him again, eternally grateful that she was no longer stuck in a confined space with him.
"Thank you, Daniel," she sighed, leaning up against him to put her shoes back on.
She smoothed her hair out, and straightened her clothes. Her shoulders hurt a little but her shirt was mostly protected by the Christmas cardigan she was wearing so other than that she was no worse for wear.
"What are you two doing in here?" Daniel asked, still a little stunned by the whole thing.
"It's a long story but essentially we were stuck, so thank you for rescuing us," Betty replied.
"What are you doing in the supply closet Daniel?" Marc asked, picking his coat and scarf up off of the floor.
"My printer is out of paper and I couldn't find my assistant to get some for me," he answered, looking at Marc pointedly. "He's not answering his phone either."
Marc feigned a pathetic chuckle. "Well, I guess I have some work to do," he scrambled out the door and disappeared down the hall.
Daniel examined Betty with a look of concern. "And you were climbing in the vent because…"
"I was trying to get us out," she explained and Daniel nodded.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," she smiled to reassure him; she felt a hundred percent better now that she was out of that vent.
Daniel noticed the paintings leaning up against the shelf and pointed. "Matt's art?"
Betty nodded.
His eyes widened suddenly as he examined them, connected the two paintings together and his eyebrows practically shot off of his forehead. "Is that, um…" he cleared his throat, "you?" He pointed to the chesty painting.
Betty tugged the two sides of her red cardigan together self-consciously even though there wasn't an iota of cleavage to be seen in her current outfit. She flipped the painting around.
"Apparently." She avoided his eyes as the heat spread out over her face.
"Wow. No wonder you got stuck in the vent."
"You did not just say that." Betty looked up at him, stunned.
"Was that out loud?" he asked sheepishly and she nodded. "Uh, sorry. And obviously that's you." He pointed to the other painting and she looked up at his amused and astonished face. "Erotic," he commented with a hint of an expression she couldn't read.
"Okay, can you pretend you didn't just see those?" She turned the other one around too and found a large narrow nook behind the shelf she could tuck them into.
She hadn't realized, until now, how relived she was that Daniel hadn't shown up at Matt's gallery showing last week.
"I'll try, but honestly, the image is etched into my brain," he chuckled.
"Shut up and let's get out of here. I need some fresh air." She shoved him out the door and down the hall.
"Hey, I never got my paper," he protested as she pushed him along.
"Send Marc back for it." She didn't trust him not to pull the paintings out again once he got back in there, not that she really trusted Marc either but at least she and Marc had come to some sort of agreement about it.
It was well after six and most of the staff had left for the day so it was eerily quiet as Betty packed up to leave. She walked down the tunnel and noticed Daniel's light on so she wandered down to his office.
"Hey," she smiled at him from the doorway.
"Hey," his tone told her he was pleasantly surprised to see her. "What are you doing here so late? I thought you had a date."
"My date cancelled," she shrugged as she meandered in and sat down on the orange chair across from his desk.
"Oh." He looked concerned.
"Matt had to go to some charity thing his mom had helped organize and she didn't tell him until the last minute."
Matt had urged her to go as well but Betty just couldn't bring herself to spend another evening with his mom - that would be three days in a row - so she'd made up the excuse she needed to work on her article.
"You didn't want to go?"
"Are you kidding? And spend the evening with Victoria Hartley, no thanks. That wasn't exactly what I had in mind for tonight."
"I'm sorry Betty," he said sympathetically.
"Don't be. It's not so bad having an evening to myself."
Daniel cocked an eyebrow suspiciously.
"Don't read anything into that," she responded, reading his expression.
"You did say that he was smothering you a little," he reminded her.
Her mouth dropped open. "I never said he was 'smothering' me."
"Oh, sorry, you said he was obsessed with you and wanted to spend every waking minute with you or something," he retorted smartly, obviously knowing that description would bother her more.
"Oh my gosh. I said he wanted to spend all of his time with me," she corrected him wanting to set the record straight. But even as she corrected him it kind of sounded like the same thing, which was stupid because it totally wasn't.
Daniel had smug look on his face. Apparently he thought so too.
"Stop it. It's not the same thing," she argued.
"Whatever." He looked back down at his work.
"What are you still doing here?" She asked him changing the subject.
"Just trying to get caught up on some paperwork."
Betty nodded. "No date tonight?"
"Nope." It was short and sweet and she might have just dropped it except he started fidgeting with his papers which made her curious.
"You haven't mentioned anyone lately. In fact, you never did tell me if you went a little 'old Daniel' down in the Bahamas."
"I haven't mentioned anyone because there isn't anyone," he replied, the words sounding casual but the pitch of his voice – a few semi-tones higher than normal - a clear indicator that he was hoping this line of questioning would end soon.
For some reason this conversation was making him uncomfortable but she didn't know why.
"And the Bahamas?"
"Nothing special," he answered evasively before turning the subject back to her. "So, other than the smothering, things are going well with Matt? I couldn't really tell by that erotic painting of his with vicious Betty and her gigantic…uh…knife. It was a little ambiguous and could have gone either way," he teased.
"I thought we agreed to forget about those paintings." Betty said feeling her face getting warm again.
"Sorry," he tried not to smile.
"For the record, he painted that when we were broken up," Betty explained.
Daniel nodded but had a strange look on his face.
"Don't do that," she said to him.
"What?"
"Don't give me that look." Betty shook her head at him and picked a stray pen off of his desk, fiddling with it in her fingers aimlessly.
"What look?"
"You're looking at me like I should know better or something." She looked up into his judgmental eyes and immediately they softened.
"Betty, I'm the last person in the world who should be lecturing you about relationships."
"That's very true but it never stopped you from telling me I was being stupid about Henry." She started fiddling with the pen again.
Daniel sighed and sat back in his chair. "That's permanently imprinted in your memory, isn't it?"
"Afraid so."
"Look, I didn't mean to be so harsh about it. I was just concerned."
"Just like you are now?"
"You and Matt didn't exactly end on the nicest terms last time," he reminded her. "And he was kind of an ass to you, all paintings aside."
"Well, I have to take some responsibility for that. The breakup probably wouldn't have happened if I had told him the truth about Henry in the first place. Obviously, he was hurt by everything. But let's be honest, he's not the only one who's ever behaved like an ass to me," she said looking at him pointedly. "I think everyone deserves a second chance, don't you?"
Daniel gasped and exaggerated his shock. "Betty you just said the word 'ass'!" But then he smiled, acknowledging her meaning. "Where would I be without your second chances?"
She smiled warmly at him and put the pen back down on his desk.
"Hey, I have an idea. You want to hang out with me tonight or are you really happy to have an evening to yourself?" he asked her.
"I thought you were working?"
"I was, but you interrupted and I'm not really into it now."
She shrugged, "Sure, we haven't hung out for a while. What do you want to do?"
He shrugged that time. "A movie?"
"There's nothing good at the theatre but we could rent a Christmas one," her spirits lifted; she hadn't had a chance to watch anything Christmassy yet this year.
Daniel rolled his eyes.
"Don't roll your eyes Scrooge. Scrooge! Let's get A Christmas Carol," she beamed excitedly.
"It's probably on television."
"Even better, then we don't have to rent it. Check on-line and see."
He clicked away and moved his mouse around. Sure enough it was starting at eight but so was It's a Wonderful Life.
"I looove that movie," Betty gushed.
"I've never seen it," Daniel admitted.
Betty's mouth dropped open. "Shut up. You've never seen It's a Wonderful Life?"
Daniel shook his head.
"Well that settles it then, we have to watch it."
They went to Daniel's and watched the movie and ate popcorn. Betty cried like she always did whenever she watched it and Daniel just handed her the box of tissues with a small grin on his face. Afterwards they opened a bottle of wine Daniel had in his fridge and toasted to good friendships. Maybe it was the couple of glasses she'd had or maybe it was the lateness of the evening and that they hadn't talked, really talked, for several weeks but she found herself telling him about the pregnancy scare.
"Wow, Betty…that's, like…wow," Daniel obviously didn't know what to say. Instead he took a gulp of his wine.
"I know," she agreed quietly staring into her glass as she swirled it around gently.
It's funny how bringing that up suddenly changed the entire tone of their conversation. They were silent for a minute and then Daniel spoke again.
"What would you have done?"
She shrugged. "Keep it, of course. I mean, why wouldn't I? We love each other and it's not like we don't have the means to raise a child."
Daniel nodded. "And you'd have lots of support from your family, of course."
The way he was so confident about that made her realize how lucky she really was to have the family she did.
She nodded and smiled softly. "But I'm just so glad that it didn't come to that. I'm not ready to have a baby. There are so many things I want to do first."
He nodded again.
"So I'm wondering if maybe, subconsciously, that's why I'm feeling a little smothered."
"I thought you weren't feeling smothered," Daniel raised his eyebrows and stifled a know-it-all smirk.
"Okay, alright," she leaned in and bumped her shoulder against his arm. "It'll be better once we're not spending every moment together," she assured him, feeling optimistic about it.
"It makes sense that you're feeling a little suffocated. It's kind of eye-opening when something like that happens, I would assume. And maybe it's a little scary picturing yourself in a situation, like parenthood, that you're not quite ready for. I think it's probably natural to pull back."
There was a comfortable silence in the conversation and then Betty spoke again.
"I'm not sure I can picture it with Matt." She surprised herself with how easy it was to be honest with Daniel; she'd barely wanted to admit this to herself.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I had to picture it briefly, when I was in the midst of not knowing if I was pregnant or not, and I completely freaked out."
"But that's normal. You're not ready to have a baby."
"I know, but there was more to it which is weird. I mean, I love Matt, I really do, but having a family with him…I don't know."
"Why?"
"Well, for one thing, I don't like his mother." She hated to admit it; there were very few people in this life that Betty didn't like and Matt's mom was one of them.
Daniel smiled. "That just makes you human. Victoria Harley is a stuck up bitch."
"Yeah, I know, but I hate that. Family is so important to me. How could I go through life raising a child, her grandchild, when I can't stand the woman? I want to be able to have some kind of decent relationship with the grandparents of my child, you know?"
"You'd be having a family with Matt, not with his parents," he reminded her.
"I know, but it does kind of bind you together, like it or not." She sighed as she continued her thought. "Our families, the Hartleys and the Suarezes, bound together for the rest of that little child's life. Can you imagine Victoria's reaction? It would kill her. Actually maybe that would solve the problem," Betty said, and then her words sunk in. "Oh no, I did not just say that," she immediately regretted it.
"Well, personally, I can't think of another family that I would be more honoured to be bound together with than the Suarez family," Daniel said sincerely, raising his glass in a toast.
"Aww, aren't you sweet?" Betty smiled at him and gave him a little hug around his torso. "Well, same here." She raised her glass back. "Uh, I meant the Meades."
Daniel chuckled. "I knew what you meant, although I find that hard to believe."
"Oh, come on Daniel, your family is not that bad. Sure, there's sometimes a little drama but your Mom is great and your sister is, um, well…" she didn't want to lie but at the same time a warm adjective wasn't immediately coming to her because the only thing she could picture at the moment was how she berated Daniel and stabbed him in the back, so she just finished that sentence with, "not in the country."
Daniel laughed.
"She has positive qualities they just weren't readily coming to mind," she added sheepishly.
"It's okay Betty," he grinned.
"Hey, we've talked about me most of the evening. What about you?"
"What about me?" he asked.
"Well, it's your first Christmas without…" she paused not wanting to finish that sentence because they hadn't spoken about her for so long she wasn't sure how he'd react.
He finished it for her. "Without Molly?"
"Yeah. That has to be hard."
"Honestly, I think the hardest part is how guilty I feel that it's not that hard." He admitted, looking away and rubbing his beard.
"You're allowed to feel however you feel, you know? You don't have to feel guilty about it."
He smiled softly. "I loved her Betty but I never really let myself think about holidays together because I knew we would have many…or actually any."
Betty nodded sympathetically and rubbed his shoulder.
They sat quietly for a moment and then Daniel perked up as if he didn't want to dwell on the sadness. "Oh hey, I have something for you, I almost forgot."
He got up and disappeared into his bedroom and came back with a rectangular shaped box wrapped in red paper with penguins dressed as Santas on it. A big silver bow was on the top. It was about the size of a book.
"I was going to give it to you tomorrow at work but after the day you've had today, you could probably use some cheering up. Locked in a confined space with Marc must have been pure torture, and I don't imagine being stuck in a claustrophobic vent was a picnic. But then, to top it off, your boyfriend cancels your date." He sat back down on the couch with her.
"Daniel, you didn't need to get me a Christmas present."
"It's not a big deal, Betty. It was just one of those things you see in the store and you just know it's perfect, you know?" He handed it to her.
"Should I open it now?" she asked unable to keep the anticipation out of her voice.
"If I say no, you'll open it the second you're out the door anyway so I might as well get to see your face," he grinned.
She tore the paper off and inside was a dark blue leather bound journal with a lock, but not a regular key lock with the tiny flimsy keys that are easily lost; it had a solid, sturdy combination lock. She ran her fingers over the soft leather almost at a loss for words and it wasn't until then that she noticed the small "Betty" embossed in the leather in the bottom right corner. She bit her bottom lip and swallowed the lump forming in her throat.
"It's beautiful," she said softly opening the cover.
"The papers are refillable if you order on-line from the company," he commented pointing to the business card inside.
"One of those things you saw in the store that just happened to have the name 'Betty' on it?" she smirked.
He smiled. "Okay, so I had the name put on it but I knew the journal with the lock was perfect. You were complaining like crazy last week about Hilda reading yours so now she won't be able to."
She must have looked surprised because Daniel added, "See, I do listen to you,"
"I didn't get you anything," she said apologetically.
"I don't need anything," he smiled.
"Well, neither do I, really, but this is perfect. Thank you."
"You're welcome. Merry Christmas Betty." He swung his arm across her shoulders and gave her a friendly squeeze.
"Merry Christmas, Daniel."
Betty runs her hand over the smooth leather cover of her journal, fingering the embossed name in the corner and smiles. The heat of the crackling fire in front of her is making her cheeks warm and she knows they'll probably be a rosy pink by now. She can smell the faint fragrance of the real pine garland beautifully decorated and draped across the mantel, and it's mingled with the spicy scent of the candle burning on the side table. Daniel walks up and hands her a mug and now both smells are overtaken by the sweet smell of hot chocolate. Across the room the enormous Christmas tree, perfectly decorated with hundreds of tiny white lights and red and gold ribbons and ornaments, sits in the corner reminding Betty of Daniel once telling her about his mother's professionally decorated trees. She didn't even know there was such a thing before then. Claire's oversized sofa is soft, and deep, and right now Betty feels about as lazy, relaxed and heavy as a person can feel without actually being asleep.
"You ever feel like you're in a Christmas special when you come home to your Mom's for the holidays? I keep expecting Bing Crosby to walk in the door any minute."
Daniel laughs. "My Mom likes all the traditional Christmas trimmings. Where were you just now? You were so quiet, staring into the fire." He sits down on the sofa beside her.
"Yeah. I was just remembering Christmases past. Well, one in particular. Do you remember when I got stuck in the vent in the storage closet at Mode?"
Daniel chuckles. "That was pretty memorable. You thought you were going to suffocate."
"I probably would have if you hadn't come along. Marc wasn't being particularly helpful." She takes a sip of her hot chocolate but it's still way too hot so she puts it down on a coaster on the large solid oak coffee table in front of her.
"Scootch up a bit," Daniel tells her as he holds his mug far out to the side so he won't spill it on her.
He slips one leg in behind her and leans into the corner of the couch, pulling her back so she's sitting between his legs, leaning up against him.
"Well I, for one, am really glad you didn't suffocate." He brushes her hair aside and then leans down and kisses her neck, right behind her ear.
"Mmm, I like that." She closes her eyes and feels the goose-bumps forming on her arms.
"I know," he whispers softly, kissing her neck again. "You know, that kind of makes me your hero."
"Does it?" She smiles with amusement.
"Yeah. You were in danger and I rescued you, thus rendering me heroic."
"Doesn't a hero risk their own life to save someone else? I think, technically, you were cleaning a vent," she teases with a chuckle.
Daniel suddenly breaks into his best Marc impersonation. "Oh my God." He rolls his eyes. "A vent clogged with the biggest, tackiest, hairball known to mankind."
It's complete with a disgusted facial expression and a dismissive wave, and it's eerily accurate in mannerisms and intonation.
"Hey!" Betty looks at him and she's not sure whether to be more amused or offended.
"Sorry, I was just,uh…imitating," Daniel looks extremely apologetic.
"It did sound exactly like him," she admits with a laugh. "Aww, I miss Marc."
"Maybe we could try to see him while we're in the city for the holidays," he suggests.
She thinks about that for a second, reliving a few of his insults in her head. "Maybe I don't miss him that much. I mean, it's not like we never see him."
Daniel chuckles and rubs her arm.
"Do you know that was only three years ago?"
"Really? It feels like a lifetime." He sounds a little in awe of it.
"I know. So much has changed since then. That's the day you gave me this." She holds up the diary.
"I remember." He takes a sip of his hot chocolate and she tilts her head back to examine his face to see if he's just placating her.
"No you don't." She shakes her head and grins at him.
"I do, honest."
"Really?"
"Of course. You were complaining so much about Hilda reading your diary that I bought that for you just to shut you up," he grins back.
She places the journal on the table and then takes his free, left hand and starts playing gently with his fingers, slowly twirling the gold wedding band around his ring finger. She ponders whether or not she wants to take the conversation in this direction right now.
"Do you remember the conversation before you gave it to me?" she asks, deciding she wants to.
"Uh…" Now he looks caught.
She chuckles softly. "I had just told you about the pregnancy scare with Matt."
"Oh, right."
They are quiet for a second, both staring into the fire. Daniel takes another sip of his hot chocolate.
Finally he speaks. "I remember how relieved you were that you weren't pregnant."
"It wasn't the right time," she responds softly, very seriously.
"Or…?" Daniel says, hoping to elicit more but she doesn't understand what he is hinting at.
She looks at him blankly but his expression indicates it should be obvious.
She still doesn't get it. "Or what?"
"Or the right person, maybe?" he offers, seemingly a little stunned that she didn't come up with that on her own.
"Right…obviously." She laughs at how feebleminded she is that she didn't clue in but it seems okay because he's chuckling too.
They sit quietly for another minute as Betty makes her final decision on what to do. She confirmed her suspicion yesterday, after realizing that although jet lag might make you incredibly tired, it shouldn't also make you constantly queasy. She decided right then how she was going to do it; she was going to surprise him Christmas day. But the moment seems ripe right now, with Claire out running errands and the perfect Christmas card atmosphere around them. Not to mention the fact that the anticipation is killing her and she does not want to wait one more second, let alone until tomorrow, to tell him.
"Well, it's the right time and person now," she says, trying to play coy.
"It is," he squeezes her tight and kisses the side of her head. "But if you have any immediate plans to work on it, my Mom will be back soon, so we might be smarter to wait until tonight." He grins impishly.
Obviously she was a little too subtle and he doesn't get it. She sits up and shifts around to face him better, hoping that will help get her point across.
"Um…I kind of meant that we don't need to work on it. Or rather, that the work has already been done."
"What?" He looks so stunned that she holds her breath for a second. "Are you serious?"
She nods with a hesitant smile. "We're going to have a baby."
He rakes his hand through his hair and rests it on the back of his neck, and then he leans forward placing his mug down on the coffee table as if it's suddenly too heavy for him.
It's not exactly the reaction she was expecting and her heart drops into her stomach. They had a discussion about starting a family about a month ago and they decided to just "relax and see what happens". She was pretty sure he was on board with it then but now she's a little confused.
"This is good, right? I mean, we both decided this is what we wanted?"
He immediately softens, his face breaking into the warmest smile. "Of course. It's fantastic and amazing, really. I'm sorry, I'm just a little stunned." He pulls her into a hug. "I love you so much, Betty."
"I love you too."
"I kind of thought it would take a little longer than that. I mean, didn't we just talk about this two weeks ago?" he says, still sounding a little dazed when she pulls back. "And it's not like we were really trying."
Betty smiles. "It was more like a month ago," she corrects him. "And we weren't really trying to prevent it which I think is more the point. But to be honest, I'm a little surprised it happened so quickly too." She turns around again and leans back into him, relieved, and he wraps his arms around her protectively, placing one hand on her abdomen.
"A baby..." he whispers softly as if he can't believe it; she looks up at his face and it is full of awe.
"We must be really fertile. Maybe when you do it like bunnies you reproduce like them too," she says with a smirk.
He laughs lightly. "Like bunnies, huh? Did you ever wonder about that expression? I mean rabbits don't come across as the most virile creatures."
"Actually, the expression comes from the fact that rabbits have a quick rate of reproduction because they have a long breeding season, a short gestation, and the entire act of courtship and mating lasts only about thirty to forty seconds." Betty replies thoughtfully.
"Thirty to forty seconds…really? There is so much that could be said about that." He smiles. There's a brief pause and then he adds, "Wait…should I be offended that you think we do it like bunnies?"
Betty laughs and he wraps his arms tighter around her.
"I'd like to know how you know that useless piece of trivia."
"I don't know, probably some school project, once upon a time. What can I say, you married a smart woman."
"I did, indeed," he leans down and nuzzles her neck causing her to giggle. "I hope this little one inherits his mother's smarts." He takes a half-second to process what he just said. "I can't believe we're going to be parents!" Betty can tell his excitement is coming out now that his shock is wearing off.
He nuzzles her neck playfully again a few more times and it tickles so much she starts giggling uncontrollably.
"Stop it," she squirms. "I can't breathe."
"Is that a requirement?" he teases, as he continues nuzzling.
"You're depriving the baby of oxygen," she gasps out in a last-ditch effort to stop him.
It has the desired effect and he immediately stops. She looks up at him and he's beaming.
"This is…wow…it's just…wow..." He can't seem to find the words.
"I know. It's unbelievable, and amazing, and exciting…" She is trying really hard to contain her urge to clap but a little one sneaks its way in anyway.
"And completely terrifying." He adds as an afterthought with a deep breath.
She realizes the weight of it this is settling in too. She sits up and turns toward him again, placing her hand on his face.
"Hey, you are going to be a wonderful father."
He seems to relax a little with her reassurance.
"So do we get to tell everybody?" His blue eyes are sparkling and he's grinning boyishly.
"Eventually, but it's still kind of early. Lots of things could happen." She immediately thinks of Hilda.
Obviously that is not what he wants to hear because his face drops and he looks disappointed. His expression could rival a scolded puppy's, it looks so forlorn. She isn't sure if it is because he can't share the news or that, all of a sudden, the realization of how fragile this is has hit him.
"But I suppose we could cautiously mention it to our closest family, reminding them it's early," Betty suggests hesitantly.
"No, you're probably right. Maybe we should wait, at least a little." She realizes now it is more the fragility of it. "God Betty, we're going to have a baby."
"Uh…I think I just said that." She smiles again.
He gazes at her with a piercing look that she feels in her knees. It's her only warning before he pounces – his lips on hers, his hands on both sides of her face, conveying everything he is feeling with each caress. He is more comfortable sharing his emotions with words than he used to be, but she knows this is still his most natural form of expression and she doesn't mind because, wow, can he be expressive this way. Betty leans back onto the sofa cushions and feels him fiddling with her buttons while he kisses her.
He suddenly stops, pushing himself up to look at her face. He is extremely serious. "Wait…um, this is okay, isn't it? It's not going to hurt anything?"
She smiles. "No, it's perfectly fine." She wonders if he thought they were going to have to abstain for the entire pregnancy.
"Oh, thank God." That's all he needs to know before he pounces again.
"I thought your Mom was going to be home soon," she gasps when he moves from her lips down to her neck.
"Mmm…" Apparently he doesn't care because it doesn't stop him.
Almost immediately, as if on cue, someone opens the front door. They sit up quickly and use the thirty seconds it takes for her to take her coat off to get decent. Just as she enters the living room, Betty feels Daniel's hand smooth out her hair at the back of her head and his mom raises her eyebrows and stifles a smile.
"Have you two been…busy?" She asks, looking down at Betty shirt.
Betty follows her eyes down and notices her top several buttons completely misaligned. Her face turning red, she scrambles to fix them.
"If you wanted some action, we do have bedrooms in the house Daniel. You don't need to molest your wife on the living room sofa." She puts the bags she's carrying down on the floor.
"I'm sorry," Betty feels her face warming even more.
"Don't be dear. The Meade men are impulsive sex fiends. Nobody knows that better than I do. I remember one time Bradford and I were out at a dinner party—"
"Mom! Is this story really necessary?" Daniel interrupts her; he has a look of horror on his face at the prospect of finding out the rest of that thought.
"Oh, fine. I hate to break it to you Darling but you were not adopted. I pushed you through my loins just like I did Alex before you and Tyler after you and believe me, it was not Immaculate Conception that got any of you in there in the first place" She directs the next part to Betty. "Obviously he'd rather live with the fantasy that the stork brought him." She shakes her head and Betty can't help but laugh a little.
"See? This is why I need therapy." Daniel says to Betty, gesturing to his mom and shaking his head.
Betty thinks that his poisoned mother killing his father's lover, his brother coming back from the dead as a woman, or a half-brother he never knew about popping up in adulthood all constitute better reasons for therapy than his Mom's forthrightness, but whatever, now probably isn't the best time to argue that.
"So your dad said they'd be here around three. He figured that would give us lots of time to have dinner and go to mass at Our Lady of Mount Caramel." She is telling Betty not asking, and Betty feels weird that Claire knows more about what is going on than she does, but not in a bad way; in fact it feels kind of nice.
She and Daniel spent their first four nights back in New York in Queens at her dad's, but last night they had stayed at Claire's. Now, Christmas eve, her entire family is descending on the Meade household to celebrate together, courtesy of Claire and whatever help she has hired for the evening. Although, interestingly enough there isn't any help around yet.
"Um, is there anything I can do to help, Mrs…uh, Claire?"
She makes this slip more often than she should considering she and Daniel have been married for over a year. She knows that wouldn't be the case if they saw their families a little more often.
Claire smiles knowingly, "Sure. I'm just getting a tray of cheese and crackers ready. Your father insisted he wanted to cook so everything is waiting in the fridge for him. Well, everything that he hasn't already made at home."
That explains why there isn't anyone on the payroll today. And it's also not surprising. Her father would definitely want to contribute to the celebration however he could especially since Claire insisted everyone stay over so they can all spend Christmas day together too. It might be purely practical - so Daniel and Betty don't have to divide their time - but Betty doesn't think so. Claire seems to have developed quite a soft spot for Justin, appreciating his views on the best theatre in the city or the lamest celebrity folly. She seems to enjoy both Hilda and Ignacio's company and it's obvious she gets a complete kick out of Bobby.
Betty stands up and picks up a couple of the bags, following Claire into the kitchen. She puts the bags on the quartz countertop of the massive, gourmet kitchen and starts digging everything out. Claire does the same with the bags she's carrying. They make small talk about Meade publications and Betty's magazine, Daniel's job and Betty's family while they make the preparations – a massive tray of six kinds of crackers and more specialty cheeses than Betty can name, plus a bunch of cut vegetables that just need to be arranged on a platter.
As Betty is arranging the last of the vegetables Claire says softly, "You know Betty, I am so happy that your family agreed to come and spend Christmas with us."
They've spent the past few Christmases together but always at the Suarez house.
Betty looks up almost startled, a little puzzled why this seems like a surprise to Claire. "Of course. Why wouldn't they?"
Claire shrugs but then responds. "You are such an unpretentious bunch. I wasn't sure they would feel comfortable with all of this."
Betty smiles. She knows for a fact Justin is more than comfortable and Hilda also enjoys the visits to the Meade household and all the luxury it holds. Papi has enjoyed the dinner gatherings they've had in the past although he was a little apprehensive about staying over tonight but only because he didn't want to be an imposition. And as for Bobby, just give him a large screen and some kind of sporting event and he's happy anywhere.
"Believe me, they're fine. I think it'll be fun," she assures her with a broad smile.
Claire smiles back and then looks back down at the cheese extravaganza she's creating as she rearranges some crackers. "Ah Betty, I am so glad you are part of this family. Daniel is not the only lucky one to have you in his life. I feel pretty blessed too."
Betty notices Claire swallow hard and she feels the water welling up behind her eyes. She feels a sudden wave of love for this woman; they've been through so much together. The urge to tell her their exciting news is so strong because she knows nothing would make Claire happier. But she and Daniel have decided to wait, at least a little, so she doesn't. Claire looks up and notices her expression.
"Oh dear. I didn't mean to open the flood gates."
"I'm fine," Betty whispers, choking back her tears.
Claire chuckles softly. "You are more than fine, my dear, you are a godsend. Where would we be without you?"
It's rhetorical so Betty doesn't respond with more than a wet smile but Claire continues in all sincerity.
"Daniel is so happy. That's all a parent ever wants for their children, you know. He's so grounded and focused too. He knows what he wants and he's working hard for it. He's finally motivated by something other than childish competition or his…" She doesn't finish that sentence probably because she knows Betty doesn't need to be reminded of his colourful past. She shakes her head, almost in awe. "Well anyway, there was a time when I never would have expected that. And I know a lot of that is due to you."
"Oh, I don't know, I think Daniel always had that in him," Betty assured her.
"I do too, but he needed someone to show him it was there, and that someone, my dear, was you."
"Thanks Mrs,um…Mom." She's never called her that before but somehow it seems appropriate in the context.
Claire looks a little startled and then her eyes well up with tears too and she gives Betty a small hug.
A few hours later, her family has settled in. Tyler has arrived for the evening too. Papi's in the kitchen with Claire and Betty, and they are lightheartedly debating about whether it's better to put the cooked turkey Ignacio has lugged over from his house back in the oven now, to reheat it, or whether it's too soon and it'll dry out. Everyone else is in the family room. Betty, suddenly finds herself having to make some excuse that she's forgotten something important as she makes a hasty escape from the kitchen. Oddly, the smell of Papi's empanadas is making her queasy and if has to endure it much longer she's going to lose her lunch. She wanders into the family room where some sporting event is on television but it kind of seems like everyone is playing tea party with Marianna, Hilda and Bobby's little girl - at least everyone has little plastic tea cups. Hilda must have brought some toys with her.
"Two lumps please," Bobby says as he holds out his cup to Marianna. "Oh man, nooo!" he screams at the television and slaps his knee.
Daniel and Tyler both grimace in the direction of the screen. Marianna taps Daniel on the leg and he focuses his attention down on her.
"I'll have two too," Daniel says in a high feminine voice as he flips Betty scarf around his neck.
"We're playing tea party Daniel, not drag party," Justin reminds him with a roll of his eyes.
Daniel glances up when he notices Betty, and immediately stands when he sees her face. He looks worried. Of course he isn't particularly subtle so everyone else looks too.
"Are you alright Betty?" Hilda asks.
"I'm fine," she feigns a smile but it is convincing enough for everyone except Daniel.
He walks over and guides her to an arm chair. "Hey, you're looking a little green," he says softly so no one will hear.
"It's just some queasiness. It's nothing to worry about."
"Are you sure?" He's looking so concerned her heart constricts.
"I'm positive, Daniel. It's perfectly normal," she whispers reassuringly and squeezes his hand; if he keeps this up everyone would know their little secret before they even say anything.
He nods. She admires him in his comfy jeans and blue sweater as he walks back to watch whatever game they are watching and holds his cup out for Marianna to put "sugar" in it. She loves him so much, her heart actually aches and she feels tiny pin pricks behind her nose. She closes her eyes hoping to prevent the tears. She wonders if she's going to survive these pregnancy hormones. When she opens them he's looking at her, all worried again. She smiles across the room - the sincerest one she can muster - and it seems to comfort him because he smiles back.
It's going to be a long nine months of semi-neurotic anxiety on Daniel's part, she can tell already. The term "smothering" comes to mind but instead of feeling suffocated, it actually makes her smile. Somehow on Daniel, it's not annoying, it's endearing. Daniel might be a worrier and he may be over protective but he's her best friend, her biggest champion, and she loves him more than she ever thought it was possible to love another human being. Actually, now that she thinks about it, there isn't anyone in the world she'd rather have smothering her.