This is a one-shot from Betty's POV, right after the finale. Enjoy! :)
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
As she walked along the streets of London, back to her new office, Betty couldn't stop herself from analyzing the previous moments. After blowing her off and refusing to speak to her . . . refusing to say goodbye, he was here. Daniel was here. He had quit his job, rented out his apartment, and he was here. Not in New York or LA . . . Milan or Paris . . . but here . . . in London . . . where she had taken the job that had ultimately ruined their friendship . . . or so she had thought until that day.
He wanted to "take her" to dinner. Not grab Chinese and bring it back to her flat to watch "Rush Hour" or "Wedding Crashers", but "take her" to dinner. As in call her later with details and pick her up at her door. Was Claire right? Was his less-than-supportive attitude about her new job not just about losing her as an employee and friend? When he said he couldn't live without her . . . did he mean it in another way? After he had so confidently approached her, for a split-second she had thought he might . . . until he suddenly started stumbling over his words and eventually offered her a promotion. She wiped the possibility out of her mind after that.
Did this unusual invitation imply an actual date? She continued to wonder as she sat at her desk and opened up her laptop. Were those shy, nervous glimpses he gave really meant for her? She'd seen those looks before – the vulnerable, insecure glances while he was on pins and needles waiting for a verdict from a girl he truly cared about, where the confident side of him went out the window . . . She had felt herself subconsciously doing the same, even flirting a little, but hoped he hadn't noticed . . . unless he actually did see her that way, now . . . and even then she didn't know.
As she had hugged him on the steps she felt herself patting him on the back, afraid of assuming too much, trying to maintain the closeness of friends just in case. However, she noticed Daniel had held onto her a little tighter, allowed his hands to slip a little lower on her back. And when he briefly ran his fingers down her arm, grabbing her hand as they broke, she felt an unexpected spark. A rush she'd never predicted she'd feel for him. She'd never looked at him that way before. They were never like that with each other. Close, yes. Sometimes a little too close, she admitted.
Knowing exactly where the weird mole on his ass was, witnessing his copy room sex romp on tape, and buying him jock itch cream were just a few examples that proved to be a little too close for comfort. These were things friends – especially friends of the opposite sex - weren't supposed to know about each other.
She wondered if that wasn't part of the problem - they knew each other too well. But that could be a good thing. She could read his moods, could tell when he needed to be comforted or given a pep-talk, when he just needed time alone. He could do the same with her . . . was always first in line to stand up for her . . . She knew the good man he had grown to be . . . how hard he had struggled to get there. Thinking about it made her beam with pride.
She guessed she could envision herself with him, if the opportunity arose. After all, she loved him dearly as a friend and mostly respected him as a boss . . . not that that was an issue anymore . . . But maybe this was all irrelevant. Maybe Daniel was just apprehensive about her forgiving him. Was this dinner just a form of an apology because he knew a smile and an "I'm sorry" wouldn't cut it, or was it something more than that? Did she really want more, if he did? Was she willing to sacrifice their incredible friendship if it didn't work out? Her thoughts were interrupted when the receptionist buzzed her office.
"Sorry to disturb, but there's a Daniel Meade on the line - says he's a close friend and you asked him to ring you?" Melanie informed her.
"Thanks, Melanie. Put him through," Betty answered.
"He isn't per chance, the Daniel Meade, is he? New York's most eligible bachelor, heir to the States' largest publishing company?" she eagerly inquired.
"Yes, Melanie, he is," Betty answered.
"Oooh . . . you're so lucky!" Melanie squealed.
Betty chuckled, amused that girls got so giddy at the mention of Daniel's name – even all the way in London. Maybe it was because she knew the real Daniel – not player-Daniel. Her stomach nervously flip-flopped as she picked up the phone, but it had nothing to do with his fame or fortune.
"Hey," she timidly greeted him.
"Hey," he casually replied.
"So I guess you're pretty important now?" he observed.
"Huh?" she wondered.
"I needed to hand over my life history before I could get through to you," he joked.
"Oh, sorry! That's Melanie - she's a big gossip like Amanda. Why didn't you call my cell?" she asked.
"I wasn't sure whether you'd switched companies or numbers or whatever, now that you moved here," he explained.
"Oh. Nope – same phone, same number as always," she assured him.
"Good. Now I know where I can always reach my favorite girl . . ." he boldly flirted . . . at least she thought he was flirting.
The pen she was absently holding flipped out of her fingers at the unexpected remark and she was rendered speechless. Sexy, playful tone - like when he briefly seemed to be contemplating challenging his father's reasons for hiring her . . . 'favorite girl'? Was he really going there?
". . . I – I mean my favorite girl friend – m - my favorite friend," Daniel awkwardly struggled in a higher-pitched voice.
Betty fought off a giggle – was he seriously having trouble talking to her after all these years?
"So . . . did you need me for something or just wanna talk?" she tried to save him from drowning.
Daniel cleared his throat.
"Um . . . yeah. I wanted to make sure we were still on for tonight? Dinner?" he reminded her.
"Sure. What are you in the mood for?" she asked.
"Well, there's this one restaurant I heard about the last time I was here. It's supposed to have incredible food and beautiful views. It's always booked solid, but I managed to get us a table at 7:00PM, if that sounds okay?" he shyly asked.
She could feel the butterflies in her stomach again.
A five star restaurant, impossible to get into? He was either extremely sorry or was trying his best to impress her.
"Okay? Daniel, that sounds amazing!" she squealed in assurance.
"Great. So, pick you up at 6:30PM?" he confirmed.
"Perfect," she replied.
"Okay . . . well, I'll see you then . . ." he started to hang up.
"K – I'll text you my address . . ." she reminded him.
"Right. Can't forget that," he cleared his throat, embarrassed.
"See you tonight," Betty smiled and hung up.
What was she going to wear . . .?
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
After much debate, she finally decided on her red halter dress with the slight cut-out in the front – showing a little cleavage, but not too much. She didn't want to seem like a hooker or lead him to believe she wanted to be more than friends if it was just an "I'm sorry" dinner. She completed her outfit with her black sling-back peep-toe Christian Leboutin stilettos and her shiny black Prada clutch. Both were courtesy of Mrs. Meade, who insisted a London editor needed to dress in style. As she finished applying her makeup and nervously adjusted her new glasses, she began to obsess again.
What if this was too much? It was Daniel . . . and dinner – not a wedding. If he showed up in jeans, she was going to die from embarrassment. Was the red too flashy? Maybe she should find the cover-up she had used for work. No – this wasn't work, this was dinner. She was entitled to show a little skin and not be judged for it. She'd been conservative all her life. It was time for a change . . . to let Daniel see she'd changed. She wasn't the innocent, naïve girl he'd called his assistant anymore.
Wait – why was she trying to prove anything to him? It's not like he'd remotely mentioned wanting to step into new territory. And even if he did, he knew her and she had nothing to hide – nothing to convince him of . . . right? She was a young, confident, successful . . .
She was startled out of her pep-talk by a knock at the door. That was him. Oh god – that was him! Wait – why was she nervous again? It was Daniel. Lovable, funny, dorky, occasionally irritating, sweet, caring, Daniel. She exhaled a deep sigh, straightened her dress, and opened her door.
"Hi," she timidly smiled.
"Hi," Daniel returned the smile. "You look . . . Wow . . . You look . . . great!" he stood in front of her, stupefied.
"Thank you," she shyly looked up at him.
She'd definitely activated his drool mechanism – something she'd only accomplished once or twice before. It was strange because . . . well it was her, not a supermodel . . . But not a bad thing . . . not a bad thing at all . . .
"Do you wanna come in?" she offered after they both leisurely gazed at one another.
No jeans, nice Armani suit and Gucci tie . . . good. No room for embarrassment there . . . Awww . . . he was even wearing that tie clip she bought him for Christmas after he had accidentally caught one of his designer ties in the shredder . . . And damn . . . those eyes . . . that smile . . . that hair . . . she couldn't believe she was checking him out . . .
"Uh . . . maybe later. I'd love to see your new place, but we've gotta hurry if we want to make our reservations," he explained.
Betty nodded understandingly.
"Oh! Here, these are for you," he held out a bouquet of red Gerbera daisies.
"Mmm . . . thank you. That's so sweet . . ." she graciously smiled, accepting the flowers and briefly inhaling their scent. "I'll just go put these in some water and we can go," she told him.
So . . . no roses, but they were still red . . . Maybe they still meant the same thing, only he knew daisies were her favorite flower? Or maybe he didn't want to imply anything that a rose implied . . . God! She needed to stop overanalyzing every little thing and just let things happen one way or the other.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Dinner was . . . interesting to say the least. He opened doors and pulled out chairs, helped her with her coat . . . but that's where it ended. No other hints of what his intentions were, no blatant admissions . . . just normal discussion about her new job . . . his lack of one.
She caught him stealing glances at her and felt self-conscious the entire time - not at all like when they normally had meals together. But other than that, there was nothing to alleviate the limbo game in her mind.
She almost asked exactly how long he planned on staying, but didn't want to seem like she was tired of him already. And there was no way in hell she was going to flat out ask him how he felt about her – too weird . . . too awkward. He'd tell her, if he had something to tell her, when he was ready to tell her. Even as they stared out at the London skyline, she still couldn't figure out what he wanted.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she finally broke the silence.
"Just like you," Daniel replied, inching himself closer to her just as the waiter came back with the receipt.
Was he going to kiss her?
"I guess we should get going," he stated, rising out of his chair.
Betty nodded, a little disappointed.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Back at her flat, they sat awkwardly on her new couch sipping coffee.
"Thanks for dinner. I had a really nice time," she thanked him.
"Good. I'm glad," he replied, then hesitantly looked at her, placing his mug on the coffee table. "Betty, there's something I need to tell you. I should've told you before, but I never managed to get up the courage to admit it . . ." he began, taking her hand in his.
Was this it - the big secret? Was the truth finally going to rear its ugly or possibly beautiful head?
"I didn't say goodbye to you because I couldn't," he lowered his head in shame. "Letting you go to another company in the city was bad enough, but you moving to another country . . . only seeing you maybe once or twice a year . . . I couldn't take it – I couldn't say goodbye . . . And I didn't come here just to apologize or to find a new job . . . I came here for you," Daniel nervously admitted.
Betty swallowed hard. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Did coming here for her translate into a romantic way or just he couldn't live without their friendship? She could feel her palms becoming sweaty and her heart began to race.
"Daniel . . ." she tried to get more clarity from his recent admissions.
"No. Don't. I gave you a lot to process and I'm not expecting you to say anything right away. In fact, I don't want you to, because it'd be a split-second reaction. We can talk tomorrow – lunch?" he requested.
"Sure," she agreed, as he got up and headed for her door.
They leaned against opposite sides of the frame, staring at each other, not wanting to leave the night unfinished and yet unsure of what else could be said at the time.
Then Daniel moved forward, gently caressing her jawline with his fingertips as he slowly tilted his face nearer, closing the space between them. Betty felt her knees weaken as she endured the anticipation of their first defining moment as a potential . . . couple? . . .
His lips practically landed on hers; she could feel the heat of his breath and closed her eyes, waiting for it to happen. But instead, he carefully planted a kiss on her forehead. It was tender and sweet . . . almost sensual – as if he were intentionally teasing her, making her see what she'd be missing without revealing too much at once.
He slid his forehead down to hers.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he roughly whispered before gradually pulling away, casually walking down the hallway and out of her building.
Betty just stood there, flummoxed. After never really seeing why women were so crazy about him, she finally got it. And what was more was that she knew the real Daniel, not just the playboy.
She wasn't sure what to feel with all that had happened that day – Daniel's sudden arrival, the dinner, his admission of coming to London for her, and it was now obvious that it wasn't just for her but also to be with her. It all felt strange and wildly intriguing. The thought of crossing that line with him continued to leave uncertainties in her mind.
However, Betty did know one thing for sure - having Daniel back in her life made her feel whole again and that was all that mattered – a new beginning for both of them.
