This is a Christmas fic for Angel. It is set in this season. Merry Christmas and happy holidays!
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Betty took a deep breath before she went into the deli, which turned out to be a bad idea because the icy cold air hit her lungs hard, causing her to cough. Winter had come and with it, so did Betty's nerve to finally visit Gio's Deli. Taking her sock hat off, she gripped it in one hand and the wrapped gift in the other. She shut her eyes before opening the door. She was afraid of what she might find on the other side. What would she do if he had a girlfriend? Would she care? They hadn't seen each other in months and she had broken his heart; she would have no right to feel disappointed if he were dating.
But deep down, she knew that she would.
Her eyes fluttered open and she pushed the door open. She found him in the front, washing down the counter. She saw him flinch when he looked up at her. He smiled, but it wasn't the warm, free grin she had remembered or was hoping to see.
"Hey, Betty," he said cautiously. He looked adorable with black tufts of hair poking out of the bright red Santa's hat he had tipped sideways on his head. "Are you looking to order a sandwich?"
Her mouth fell open as she looked down nervously. "Uh, no." Then with the extra Betty Suarez perk, she smiled brightly and said, "I'm here to wish you a Merry Christmas!"
His forehead wrinkled, but he smiled back and said, "Merry Christmas, Betty."
Walking over to the counter, she said, "That's not the only reason I'm here."
He cocked his head. "No?"
Shaking her head, she lifted the package to the countertop. "I know Christmas is next week, but I got you a gift."
He took it from her hands, his fingers lightly brushing across hers. "You didn't have to do that. I didn't buy you anything."
"I didn't really buy you something," she said, dragging out her words. "It's more like I did something."
Squinting his eyes, he asked, "What does that mean, Betty? Is this going to involve me taking us somewhere in my van?"
She laughed softly. "No, I promise." Her eyes looked warmly into his. "Just open it."
He deftly yet tenderly unwrapped the paper but stared blankly at the contents once opened. "It's the latest edition of Hot Flash," he said guardedly. Then with more gratitude, which of course was feigned, he said, "Thanks, Betty. My mom will love to read it."
Her face scrunched and she slightly shrieked. "No! It's not for your mother, Gio! It's for you!"
"I hate to break it to you, Suarez," he said dryly, "but it'll be a few years before I hit menopause."
Chuckling, she slapped his arm. "That's not why I gave you this."
His eyes drifted down to the magazine back to the nearly bursting expression on her face. "Wait a minute," he said slyly. "Did you write another article?"
A wide smile broke across her face and was so contagious that Gio produced one, too. "I did!"
"Congratulations, Betty. I'm happy for you." His smile started to fade, but pride still shone in his face.
"Thank you, Gio." Her hair brushed against her neck as she looked down. "The magazine hasn't been sent out yet. I wanted you to be the first to read my article."
His hand slid down the magazine cover gently. With actual gratitude, he said, "Thanks, Betty. I'll be sure to read it."
She swallowed. "There's also an invitation in there," she said, pointing to the magazine. "My family is having a Christmas party this year and I'd love it if you came." More sternly and quietly, she said, "If you thought you would want to."
He nodded and with warm eyes, said, "Thank you. I'll think about it."
She walked over to the door. Turning back, she said, "Merry Christmas, Gio."
"Merry Christmas, Betty."
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"What did you think was gonna happen, Betty?" Hilda asked as she positioned the bowl of popcorn between her and her sister. "Gio would read the article and come straight over here to sweep you off your feet?"
"No!" Betty twirled the remote in her hands. Sighing, she said, "Yes." She waved her hands in front of her and shook her head. "I know it was stupid. But I poured my heart out in that article."
She put her hand on her sister's shoulder. "But, Betty, you broke his."
Sniffing, she said, "I know. And I'm still angry at myself for that. But when Claire told me to write an article, all I could think about was how badly I missed Gio's friendship."
"And?"
Staring at her hands, she said quietly, "And now I'm wondering what would have been if I had gone to Rome."
"You can't change the decisions you've already made," Hilda said, taking a handful of popcorn.
"Yeah," Betty said, willing away tears. "But I was hoping to change what could be."
Pressing play, she said, "Let's just watch the movie. Colin Firth always makes you feel better, right?"
She chuckled. "Yeah," she said as she watched Love Actually come on the screen. But as the movie progressed, it did not bring her the joy it usually did. Bittersweet melancholy swept through her as she watched each couple in the movie find happiness with the love of another. That could have been her and Gio. She blew it. He would never forgive her—not in the way she wanted him to. She had realized too late how much she wanted him. When the movie reached the song All I Want for Christmas is You, Betty could no longer control herself. Tears flowed from her eyes uncontrollably and for what felt like forever.
Hilda turned and saw her sister weeping. "Betty!" She stopped the movie and dropped the remote onto the coffee table. "What's wrong?"
In between sobs, Betty said, "I don't know. The movie isn't working."
Hilda hugged her to her. She held her in the stillness of the room until the crying stopped.
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Gio sat in darkness in the backroom of his deli. He knew he needed to get home before it became any later, but he kept staring at the magazine on the table in front of him. Shaking his head, he chided himself for being afraid to read it. What kind of man was he that he could read a freaking article?
But deep down, he knew it was what the article might say that he was afraid to read. Would it be about how great Betty's single life is now? Would it be about something that didn't involve them at all? And if so, why would she give it to him? He hadn't seen her in months. Why had she come back into his life now? He was finally getting over her.
Okay, he knew that was a blatant lie. Not being with her hurt less every day, but he was not over her. He had conceded the day he walked away from her apartment that he would love her every day until his last. He had found the one in her—she had not. It hurt, but he could live with that.
And he had been living with that until today. How was he supposed to deal with being in love with her and not having her if she was going to periodically return to his life unexpectedly?
Get a grip man, he growled to himself. With frustration, he picked up the magazine and flipped it to the article. The title read "Finding Your Flavor: The Best New Deli in New York."
Gio read the first several paragraphs that reviewed his place with glowing compliments. It was the last paragraphs that threatened to bring tears to his eyes.
The owner went to Rome this summer to find his flavor. Eat one of his sandwiches and you will discover that he found it. I made a discovery of my own this year because of this man. I made a lot of mistakes this year and the biggest one was turning him away.
The editor of this magazine asked me to write 300 words about something I know and this is what I know: I have spent the last couple years trying to find my own flavor. What I did not realize until it was too late was that I had found my flavor in him. He taught me to be myself, to take risks, to love without conditions or fears. I let him down. I hope that by writing this, he forgives me. I would be the same person, the person he helped me become, without ever seeing him again. But I do not want to live that way. I want to be, with him. My hope to all who read this is that you don't make the same mistake I did. Find who and what is best for your life and do not let it go.
He put down the magazine and picked up the invitation. It was colorful, happy. It was obviously created in the Suarez household. It said nothing but to invite him to their Christmas party. He had a week to decide what he would do.
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The party was in full swing at the Suarez household by 8:30 that night. Several neighbors had come as well as Justin's friends and Hilda's costumers. Somehow, Amanda and Marc had found their way there as well and were led into the kitchen by the smell of baking empanadas and enchiladas. Only one person who had been invited was not there.
Betty smiled as brightly as she could and readjusted the Santa's hat on her father's head. "This party was a great idea, Papi. I'm glad you threw it."
Ignacio hugged her tightly. "I miss you, mija. I'd have done anything to have you here with us."
"All you have to do is ask," she said, smiling.
"Betty, someone's at the door!" Justin yelled from the living room.
Rolling her eyes, she patted her father on the back and made her way to the front door. She held her breath once she saw who was on the other side. "Gio," she said barely above a whisper.
He smiled softly. "Merry Christmas, Betty."
"Merry Christmas," she said, stepping aside so he could come in. She took his coat and hung it up on the rack. "I'm glad you came."
"Me too," he said, looking down at the gift in his hand. "Uh, this is for you."
Betty took the package and thanked him, unwrapping it. It was a menu from Gio's Deli. "Gio, thank you, but I know your menu by heart."
He smiled with pride at her response. "Open it and look at the selection of turkey sandwiches."
She did so and found a sandwich called "B's Little Miss Sunshine: turkey on a baguette with extra sundried tomatoes." She blinked, focusing on the menu, making sure she was really reading what she thought she was. Looking up, she said, "Gio, you named a sandwich after me?"
He shrugged. "I guess I was feeling the Christmas spirit."
She looked down at her feet. "Oh."
"And," he said, taking a deep breath, "I wanted you to know that it's okay."
Her brow furrowed. "What's okay?"
A cocky grin spread across his face. "That you want me. I know and it's okay." He laughed as she hit his shoulder.
"I can't believe you," she said in feigned shock, laughing. Her face became serious and she asked quietly, "Is it okay?"
He stared into her eyes and all of the Christmas music, loud laughter, and happy conversations disappeared. They only focused on each other. With nothing but sincerity in his eyes, he said, "It's more than okay."
She smiled and looked away. They both noticed the mistletoe overhead. "So what do you say, B?"
She knew it would be corny, but she couldn't help herself. "I say I got exactly what I wanted for Christmas."
He cocked his head. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," she said, smiling. "You."
He took her hand in his and leaned closer to her, gently kissing her on the lips. When she raised her hands to either side of his head and ruffled her fingers through his hair, he deepened the kiss, searching for everything they had missed in the last few months. "Are you real, Betty?" he asked. "Is this real?"
She slid her hands down his neck. Her voice was thick as she said, "I was just about to ask you the same thing. I never thought you'd come back."
Putting his arm around her, he kissed her on the forehead. "I never really left."
She put her hand on her chest, tears glistening her eyes. "No, you never really did."
Leading her into the living room, he said, "C'mon, I came here looking for a party."
After Christmas, they both found much more.
the end.