~ II ~

"So, notice anything different about me today?"

He glances at Betty standing in his office, avoids wincing at the clash of colours, a veritable kaleidoscope of wrongness for the current season and a crime against originality.

What? He's the Chief Editor of a major national fashion magazine; he has to retain a smidgeon of shallowness in order to gauge the fashion temperature of the general populace. And in his professional opinion, the temperature on Betty is – freezing.

"Ah … you bought new glasses?"

"No, Daniel." He can tell she's only pretending to be irritated. He realises he likes how he can tell reality and pretence apart. "Look harder."

He does look, really look. Her smile is bright today, much brighter than usual which is saying something. Her hair is a touch unruly, but that's not new.

He looks, hard. "Did you … do something to your teeth?" The fact that he tacks on a question mark tells her all she needs to know.

"Okay, that's close enough." She sighs but he knows, again, that she's only feigning. He wonders whether there will come a day when he doesn't know. "Never let it be known that I don't give second chances." She smiles, and it's all teeth and brightness and light.

It's only then – that's right, it's taken him this long – to notice that her braces are gone.

"Betty, your braces!"

She leaps in delight and he swears she's clapping too. "I know! Wow, right? I thought I'd never get them off. But look how straight they are now. See? And it's all straight and everything!"

She runs to the mirror, checks her perfectly straight teeth out. Why he has a mirror in his office is anyone's guess. He forgets that he does like to do his share of preening, too.

Daniel does look then, and sees everything. The absence of metal makes her smile brighter, even though he didn't think it was possible before. Wonders what other things he had thought impossible are in fact, possible, if only he looks hard enough.

He realises then, that being around Betty tends to open his eyes to the impossible. He only needs to think about his life, and how much difference this one person has made to it. It makes his knees weak at the power he's involuntarily given.

She's still chatting away merrily about all the things she can eat now, freed from the thought of metal on teeth.

Finally she tears herself away from the mirror, comes to stand in front of his desk. "I'm sorry Daniel, I completely didn't come here to tell you about my braces. I just need to get these signed for Stacey and then I'll be on my way. We need to get these expenses cleared before our shoot with Gerard Butler next week so she can take him to dinner and – yeah." She slides a stack of invoices toward him for signature.

He shakes his head; a wholly inadequate response. "That's okay Betty." He leans forward, gathers the papers toward him. Pauses in the act of rearranging them, firstly because it's Betty and she knows exactly how he likes to order things and two – well, two –

"You look great, Betty. You really do."

"I know, right?" He swears she would be jumping in excitement if professional etiquette had allowed it. "I want to bite into a banana and not get it stuck in my teeth!"

Her enthusiasm is infectious. It makes him want to eat a banana, too.

*****

Another year passes and it's her birthday again. He's come a long way from the first couple of years when his self-centredness and – let's face it – personal and family drama got in the way of him actually doing something meaningful about his friend's birthday.

He wants this year to be different and so he makes a gesture, a real one. No more plastic trophies from the drug store, ad hoc office celebrations after the fact or accidental drunken rampages that they conveniently glossed over the next day. Daniel Meade has turned over a new leaf and boy is that leaf green and unsure about what he's expected to give to someone who's done so much for him.

(She's done a lot for his family too, but he's pretty sure it's been mostly for him.)

He's invited to the Suarez's and if truth be told, he hardly ever passes on Ignacio's invitations anymore. The days of him feigning reluctance at intruding on private celebrations are well past.

"Daniel, it's like this." Ignacio had told him the last time he had hesitated, putting his arms around Daniel's shoulders that reminded him of the child he had been, yearning for just such a fatherly touch. "You and Betty are friends. My daughter's friends are always welcome to my house."

Well, it's certainly true they're friends. Why she still wants his friendship he has no idea but Daniel isn't about to look a gift horse or any other animal in the mouth.

He arrives at the Suarez's humble abode in good time; he had cheated and taken the town car but he's pretty sure it won't count against him in her eyes.

He's greeted by Ignacio, as warm and welcoming as ever; by Justin who wants to show him his latest Broadway audition routine, by Gio who's busy fixing his famous sandwiches (what else) in the kitchen and by Hilda, who's every bit as bright as her sister and just as colourful.

"Where's Betty?" He looks around, takes in the warmth, the comfort of their home. It's a real home, housing real memories and real childhoods and he feels the familiar, envious pang reverberate inside him. He had told Betty once how jealous he had been of her family. The Suarezes were not the Meades to be sure, but they were a real family. He wasn't sure he could say the same for the Meades.

"Oh Daniel, that's just silly." She had responded matter of factly. "I've seen just how much Mrs Meade and Alexis love you. Your childhood may have been … different … but you know your family loves you and that's what really matters at the end of the day."

Of course she had been right. She almost always is.

Ignacio offers him empanadas and Hilda is rattling away about how well her salon is going while handing him a beer and Justin is limbering up in the corner, preparing to show Daniel his routine. It's like a circus, but fun.

He kicks back against the counter with beer in hand, forgets for just a moment that DJ is in France and he has no one to celebrate the next Christmas with if his mom decides to join Alexis in France.

Not that he needs to worry; one word from Betty and he'll be back helping Justin bedazzle Christmas ornaments in an instant.

He's only roused from his daydreams by the onset of loud, brash music of Justin's routine. He becomes so engrossed – in his defence they all do – that he only notices part way through that Betty's standing at the foot of the stairs, head cradled in her hands, leaning against banister, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Had she been standing there this whole time?

After Justin's routine they eat. It's a comfortable family affair and Daniel finds himself balancing his food precariously on his knees while trying not to sink into the slightly lumpy couch.

"Thanks for coming." One minute she's talking to Gio and the next she's sitting next to him, plate in hand like she'd always been there. Maybe she has and he hasn't noticed, until now.

"Of course. Wouldn't miss it." She's caught him with a mouthful of empanada.

"Well, I'm glad you came Daniel. It means a lot to me. You know, like the lunch thing did."

She doesn't need to elaborate, because she knows he understands. Which gratifies him but there's no way he can express it beyond a pursed smile.

"Okay, presents!" It's Hilda's call so her present is first in line, which turns out to be a set of heated rollers so Betty could 'set her hair while having breakfast'. Next comes Ignacio with two precious diaries that he had found in the attic, written by Betty's mom at Betty's age today which reduces her to tears, but Gio's 'free sandwiches for life' voucher (complete with happy Betty face) and Justin's specially composed Ode to Aunt Betty which he vows to sing on Broadway someday soon brings a smile back to her face again.

When it's his turn, Daniel decides that the whole opening presents while everyone watches thing is a sucky idea. He's never had a problem with it before.

"Okay, open Daniel's." Compared to her family's personal presents, his effort suddenly seems callous, impersonal even. But there's no turning back because she's already unwrapping it with the air of a child given extra cookies from the cookie jar.

She tears the gift wrap off to reveal a long velvet box. Luckily he had forgone his usual at Tiffany's because truth be told, Betty was not the usual and he didn't want her to think he had asked Amanda or another of the Mode girls to get this for him. It's somehow important that she know this was a result of entirely his own efforts.

She's holding the box gingerly in her hands, like it's apt to shatter apart at any moment. "It's ah, jewellery." But not romantic jewellery, he wants to add. But he doesn't because, well … it goes without saying.

Betty opens the box and he really wants to flee. Has no idea why it's suddenly so awkward but yeah, it's awkward..

She stares at his gift, a glittering necklace with a diamond dolphin hanging at the end. It's small and tasteful but he had chosen it over brasher, shinier counterparts because it reminded him of her even if he can't exactly put it into words why that was, or is, the case.

He's only assured that she likes it when she gasps, heart in her eyes. "It's beautiful Daniel, it's … beautiful." She hugs him impulsively, hard and tight, and he can't breathe for the happiness rising in him.

When she finally lets him go, he's surprised to catch Ignacio's pensive gaze. Doesn't know why but it makes him uneasy.

*****

They meet for one of their now regular Wednesday night dinners, because Wednesday fits best with both their schedules and it's hard enough trying to tee up a time for himself to eat a proper meal, let alone with another person.

But Daniel enjoys their routine and actually finds himself making mental lists of things to tell Betty during the week. It's a practice he begins to find odd, and disconcerting.

Discombobulation and uncertainty dissipate when she's around though and since she's become the trusted voice of his conscience, he never gets around to questioning himself too deeply.

Tonight she'd left a message with the maitre d' saying she'd be late, something about work and articles and deadlines and yeah, he's heard most of it before and so doesn't bother trying to decipher it all. As usual he only catches every second word when she's speaking in super turbo mode but he's reasonably sure the message consisted of her only going to be a few minutes late and for him to order himself a drink at the table and not the bar because she'll only be a few minutes and yeah, something like that.

He's only just been seated himself when she rushes into the restaurant in a whirlwind, scarf slightly askew. She plonks her laptop and handbag on the floor and wrestles with the waiter who tries to take her coat to the coat room with dignity.

This time, he notices the change right away. "Betty!"

In hindsight, Daniel acknowledges that he perhaps could have hidden the incredulity in his voice a bit better. But in his defence – well, she's surprised him, that's all.

"Yes, Daniel?"

He gestures, Neanderthal-like. "Your glasses."

She purses her lips, manages to make a non-committal sound while ordering sparkling mineral water. Now that's talent.

"Ah …" He struggles to hide the smile breaking over his features. He knows she can't resist his smile. "Your glasses. They're gone."

Gone too are the days of her blind worship of his sophistication because well, she had seen too much and he isn't that sophisticated a sophisticate anyway. He's frankly surprised she hadn't seen through him sooner.

"Yes Daniel, they are. I thought it was time for a change." The waiter arrives with her glass of water, sets it gently down between them before sidling away again. She reaches and takes a sip, eyes never leaving his face.

Daniel is so unusually self-conscious right now it isn't funny.

"So what do you think? About my contacts."

"Oh, you're wearing contacts! I was wondering whether you could see properly." He responds guilelessly (but rather stupidly), examining her face watching his in an endless dance for two. "It looks good. I mean, you look good. Without your glasses. They don't, you know ..." He waits for a rescue party that never comes. "You know what I'm trying to say, Betty."

She rolls her eyes. "Um, since when have I become a mind reader?"

He finishes his glass of merlot, forgets to give it a swirl before draining the last drop. He needs more wine.

"Okay, fine. They don't obstruct your face, people can see your eyes. You look good, without the glasses." He realises that maybe this isn't enough; decides he should just say what he's really thinking in case she can't tell. "You look good, Betty. Your eyes, they're really … I like it."

He sees her features brighten, sunlight streaming through mist on a summer's day. He makes a mental note to tell the truth more often. "So, you like it? You really like it?"

He nods, really thirsty. Does he like her new look?

Well, yeah.

"I do, Betty. I really do."

She beams, and all is right with his world again. She starts telling him about her day, about articles and deadlines that weren't met and her editor Stacy's run in with a crazy politico and it's really just a typical day at work for Betty. He asks the usual questions, counters her banter with some of his, enters into a lively discussion about who the next President should be and yeah, it's just a typical Wednesday night dinner.

But all the while Daniel watches her. Realises just how warm her chocolate brown eyes are, how bright and full of life. Wonders whether that's what her soul really looks like because, well, even he knows that a person's eyes are a window to their soul.

Author's note: Thanks to everyone's feedback! I'm much more confident about posting the rest of this now, although it'll be a few days before I get to post the next part I think. Hope everyone enjoys it.