Thanks for all the great comments - they're much appreciated! :) Here's the next chapter . . . I'm ducking for cover, lol. :P
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Betty woke up in the morning and knew everything was different. She had a second chance with Daniel, and for the first time, she knew she was head-over-heels, crazy in love. She opened her eyes, expecting to find a gorgeous, sleeping Daniel beside her. Instead, the remaining space of the bed was bare. "Baby? Are you taking a shower without me . . .?" she smiled wickedly and got out of bed, putting on her robe as she checked the bathroom to no avail.
"Daniel?" she called, looking through the rest of her tiny apartment, finally coming across an envelope with her name on it taped to the coffeemaker. She nervously opened it up, hoping it was just a cute note that he had gone out to get breakfast for them, but deep down she had a sinking feeling that something was wrong. Her hands shook as she unfolded the pages:
Dear Betty,
By now you've probably opened your beautiful brown eyes and realized I'm not there. I want you to know that last night and every second we've spent together means the world to me. I've fallen in love with you and can't imagine living a single day without you in my life. I could lie next to you and simply watch you breathe, forever.
But it came to me that I was being selfish. I can't let you sacrifice what you've worked so hard to achieve, just to be with me. You deserve more than that and I won't ever be the one to hold you back or shatter your dreams.
I know you probably don't believe me right now, but later on, I know you would end up regretting it and even resenting me for it. I don't ever want us to be like that. I want us to part on a good note and think only of the good memories. So go to London and live your dream. Be happy. Be the gorgeous, sweet, sassy, confident, successful, passionate, inspiring woman I know you are. Please don't try to find me – I won't be around until I know you have already gone. I love you, baby.
Always,
Daniel
Tears ran down Betty's face as she read Daniel's words, dropping onto the paper, leaving the writing smeared and almost illegible after she had finished. She moved the letter behind to find additional pages - her release forms, already signed. Grasping the papers in her hands, she slid down against the cabinets onto her cold kitchen floor and began to sob.
Her constant crying became hysterical - to the point where all she could form were hiccups and she could hardly breathe. She heard a knock at the door. Had he changed his mind? She wiped her tears and brushed herself off before she eagerly answered the door. "Daniel?" she said hopefully. "Marc," she said as her heart sank.
"Hey . . . Princess Puffy," he said affectionately, knowing she was a wreck. "What are you doing here?" she asked, confused. "You woke me from my beauty sleep with all your howling - like a puppy who lost her Coach collar. So . . . I decided to go down to that pastry shop across the street and fatten you up on your favorite carb-filled treats," he shoved the box in her hands and made himself at home on the couch, taking the cups of coffee out of the carrier and placing them on coasters.
"Thank you. I'm sorry about yesterday," she sniffed and sat down beside him, taking a Danish. "I kinda like Bitchy Betty. It shows you're half-human," Marc smiled. Betty shook her head, knowing it was his own way of telling her they were okay. "Where's Amanda?" she wondered. "She's having breakfast with Disco Daddy," he replied. "I'm glad she finally found her father . . . I need to apologize to her," she said, holding the warm paper cup in her hand, sipping the coffee slowly.
"She's stopping by work later. But let's worry about you, right now - you're a mess!" Marc gestured to her tear-stained, blotchy face. "Thanks," Betty rolled her eyes. "Daniel told you, didn't he?" she asked. He nodded. "He wanted to make sure his Curvy Caterpillar was taken care of," Marc answered. "It hurts as much as my Botox injections to say this, but he really does love you, you know," he assured her.
"Then why did he leave me? I care about him more than I ever will care about any stupid job," she rhetorically asked. "I don't know . . . Maybe he thought he was doing the noble, Shakespeare thing – you know ''Tis a far, far, better thing that I do than I have ever done. . .'? Nah – he probably thinks Shakespeare's a new nickname for Britney," he cracked. A small smile began to form at the corners of Betty's mouth. "It's Dickens, actually," she corrected him, amused.
"Whatever . . . See, that's what I'm here for – to turn that mustache upside down," he smiled. "Thanks, Marc," she told him. "Pssh. Don't mention it! Now, can we get down to all the juicy things you hate about him?" Marc asked, eagerly. "I don't hate him at all, Marc – I – I 'm in love with him," Betty confessed as she started to cry again. "Oh, sweetie, come here," Marc gave her an awkward hug and tried to console her.
"How about we make a deal? You can love him all you want and I'll hate him for you, okay?" he half-joked. Betty sniffled, nodding as much as she could, with her head resting against Marc's chest. "You're not getting snot all over my Versace couture, are you?" he asked, turning his head toward hers. Betty looked as if she was going to burst into tears all over again. "Hey, I was kidding!" he assured her. "Well, sort of," he muttered incoherently.
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The next three weeks, Betty walked around MODE like a zombie - going through the motions but not really feeling anything but numbness. She went by Daniel's office, expecting to see him hunched over his desk, concentrating on the proofs for the next shoot, but all she saw was his empty chair. She didn't even get the chance to talk to him, to kiss him, to feel his touch before he was gone. He didn't give her a choice.
She should be furious with him but she didn't care about that if she could just see him again. She faxed over the papers to Mr. Dunne, at the last possible second, hoping Daniel would come back and stop her. He didn't – not once in all that time did he even attempt to contact her.
"Betty you have got to stop!" Hilda exclaimed confiscating the pan of double fudge brownies her sister held onto like a lifeline. "You've eaten half the pan! And gone through an entire bag of potato chips – it's not even lunch yet!" Hilda ranted. "But I'm hungry!" Betty defended herself. "No, sweetie, you're not – you're depressed. And eating will not help you – believe me – all it does is make you even more depressed once you realize you're not only alone, but you've also gained twenty pounds," Hilda corrected her.
"I just – I miss him so much and he won't even talk to me – he just left . . ." Betty started to cry. "I know, I know. I still can't believe what he did to you. I swear, when I get my hands on him –" Hilda threatened. "Hilda, please. As angry as I am with him for leaving me like that . . . I still love him," Betty stopped her. "I just wish he would answer my calls – something! I'm beginning to think that even though he said he loved me that it's not true, that everything was an excuse to break up with me," Betty wondered.
"Betty, as much as I wanna hurt Daniel for hurting you, I don't think that. I really think he thought he was doing what's best for you," Hilda told her. "But it's not! How is leaving me helping me?" she wiped her eyes. "I don't know. But why don't you try and focus on the good things. You've got a great new job – you get to be in charge and express your own ideas . . . You've got a great new city to live in and explore – and invite your sister to for fun weekends . . ." Hilda nudged.
"Yeah, I guess . . . but it doesn't make up for not having Daniel . . . Uh-oh – I think I'm regretting those brownies . . ." Betty jumped up and ran to the bathroom, feeling the urge to throw-up.
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Betty muddled through to her last day at MODE, still holding out for Daniel to contact her. As a fun distraction, Amanda and Marc were throwing her a 'Goodbye' party at the office, even though she had to share it in memory of Halston. She tried to make the best of everything, to have a good time, but her mind kept wandering back to Daniel. She knew she needed to let him go, move on, but her heart wouldn't let her.
"Betty?" Claire approached her. "Mrs. Meade, I'm so glad you came!" Betty exclaimed as Claire gave her a hug. "Dear, I've reminded you before, please call me Claire," she kindly insisted. "Right. Sorry," Betty apologized. "Oh, I'm so proud of you!" Claire exclaimed. "Thank you! . . . Daniel's not coming, is he?" Betty asked. "I don't know, sweetheart. I haven't heard from him since we talked in his office three weeks ago," Claire answered.
"He hates me, doesn't he? He wouldn't have left me if he didn't . . ." Betty's voice wavered. "Oh no, darling . . . Daniel could never hate you! You are very special to him – more than I believe you realize. It may not seem like it right now, but he cares more deeply for you than any other woman he's been with. I know my son, and just like his father, he will come to his senses soon enough," Claire wisely assured her.
"But what if -?" Betty started to express her doubts, when Claire interrupted her. "Aahh – He will," Claire insisted. "Now go and pursue your dream - I'm positive you'll make everyone here proud to know London's newest and best female editor!" Claire offered her some more words of encouragement. "Thank you, Claire!" Betty sniffled and hugged her.
"Promise you'll call me once you get settled? I want to make sure you've arrived safely, dear," Claire requested. Betty smiled and nodded. "Now enjoy your party . . . and Betty?" Claire turned back around before leaving. "Fate will work everything thing out," Claire was certain. Betty weakly smiled, hoping Claire's instincts were right.
Near the end of the party, Betty tried one last time to get in touch with Daniel – she'd called his cell phone so many times before, just to hear his voice on the message prompt. She left a final, desperate plea on his phone, hoping he'd show up at her party and tell her he made a mistake.
"Hey, Daniel - it's Betty . . . like you wouldn't know that after the 200 messages I've left you . . ." she nervously said, holding back tears. "Umm . . . It's my 'Going Away' party and you're still not here . . . I guess you really meant it when you said you wouldn't show up until I left the country," her voice cracked as she rambled on.
"I wish you were here - that I could at least say 'Goodbye' to you in person . . . but I guess you're not coming . . . I can't believe this is it . . . umm . . ." she sniffled. "I can't even put into words how much you mean to me . . . there's so much I want to say . . . so many things I want to tell you in person . . . I'd give anything for you to come back . . . even pick up your phone . . . but that's not going to happen, is it? . . . Okay . . . Goodbye, Daniel," she hung up and began to wipe the tears from her eyes.
"You do have two bosses, you know," Wilhelmina snuck up behind Betty, startling her. "I wasn't elated to be informed by a mass email either – and I'm not even sleeping with you," she spoke. "I - I'm sorry – Marc didn't give me a chance to properly inform –" Betty defended herself. "Never mind Marc!" she scoffed.
"You've got big balls, Betty Suarez - working your way up the ladder in this magazine, only to throw it all away. I can't imagine what Daniel's going through right now and I don't even like him . . . But if he let you go, however twisted his reasoning may be, he thinks he's doing the right thing. Take it from my experience – men are noble dumbasses – but you can't help but love them anyway," she took a swig of champagne.
"Now dry those crybaby tears before they stain your almost-stylish ensemble and hold your head up high! A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do to be successful!" she snapped. ". . . And the rest will fall into place . . . if the timing and the man is right," Wilhelmina assured her with an awkward, brief hand on Betty's shoulder before she started to leave.
"Wilhelmina?" Betty stopped her. "What is it, Betty?" she turned around. "Thank you," Betty said. "Don't mention it," she reluctantly replied. Betty smiled. "No – I'm serious, Suarez. You breathe one word of this conversation to anyone and I swear I'll deny it - even on my deathbed!" she warned and curtly turned away.
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Meanwhile, Daniel was hiding out in his family's vacation home in The Hamptons. Listening to her messages made him cry, so he got drunk, threw a few things, did everything he could to stop the pain, then began the cycle all over again. He needed to forget about her. She would be better off without him.
He went over and over it in his mind, trying to convince himself that he was doing the right thing by letting her go - by allowing her to move on with her life and fulfill her dream . . . letting her be the woman she aspired to be when she first crashed into the conference room at MODE, four years ago.
Come to think of it, she had inspired him to make more of himself, to want to be successful in something other than banging women and chugging booze. He was thrown into his job because his father was tired of him being a screw-up and throwing away his inheritance. But Betty had struggled from the bottom, making her way to his high-powered position in only four years.
Sure, she too was hired by his father and not because she was fashion savvy. But she had accomplished so much in that short period of time she had worked there, proven herself worthy of her positions. She deserved this opportunity and who was he to stand in her way?
If he loved her at all, he needed to let her go, right? Why didn't he feel better about it, then? He thought harder about his own job. Sure, he liked it and with Betty's help along the way had pushed himself to be good at it. But it was never something that he had always wanted to do.
Honestly he wasn't sure what that was anymore, except he wanted to achieve it on his own merits instead of riding in on his father's coat tails and flashing the family name and fortune around. Maybe it was time for him to make a new start as well . . . Maybe he didn't have to let Betty go . . . maybe he could go to her . . . He threw the now empty beer can on the floor and rushed to pack his things and call a car to the airport.
On his way, he frantically called Hilda. "Hi Hilda, it's Daniel –" he began. "Well it's about damn time you called, you big jackass! I oughtta rip off your cojones and throw them to the dogs. Why the hell aren't you talking to my sister? Do you know she's been bawling her eyes out for three weeks straight? You've got a lot of nerve –" Hilda defended Betty.
"Hilda, please! Just hear me out – I only have a few minutes –" he pleaded. "Ohhh . . . You only have a few minutes. Well, go ahead, by all means talk. God forbid I inconvenience His Royal Highness!" she mocked. "I'm in love with her," Daniel confessed, desperate for her to listen to him. "I know – you wrote it in your god damned sob-fest of a letter. But I don't buy it!" she shouted. "Hilda, you've got to believe me! I'm serious!" he begged.
"You say you love her? Then explain to me how you can sit there in your plush Malibu mansion or wherever the hell you are while Betty is a complete wreck? She cries herself hoarse, she can't sleep . . . and if she wasn't spending the other half of her time puking her guts out, I'd swear she's gonna gain twenty pounds if she doesn't lay off the food!" Hilda rants.
"Fries, sour cream and onion potato chips, and double fudge brownies?" he said, knowingly. "You do love her, don't you?" Hilda softened. "More than anything," he admitted, his voice cracking. She sighed. "Okay, against my better judgment, what do you want? But I swear to god if you hurt her again I will kick your sorry freakin' ass to the equator!" she threatened.
"Duly noted. Please, just tell me her flight number, when she's leaving, and what time she's getting in?" he asked, looking at his watch as the car approached the airport drop off. When he finally got on the Meade jet, he tried to think of what he was going to say to her. He was never good at these things. All he knew was that it was the only chance he had left.