~ IV ~
Another day, another lunch, although strictly speaking it isn't that often they're free at this time of day and besides, Daniel shouldn't get into the habit of taking these things for granted.
He's been on a kick about appreciating more of the 'normal' things in life, which curiously stemmed from a conversation with Alexis the other week. She had somehow pressed upon him the need to stop and smell the roses so to speak, and not let life fly by in a haze of work, money and women.
Which was astronomically ironic given the speechmaker and the speechmakee, but he's the first to admit that a lot of things have changed in the last few years and if his reformed attempted murdering sister/brother tells him it's time to take a whiff then yeah, he will.
So he resolves to not take his family or friends for granted ever again. No more (or not as many, let's be realistic here) nights spent couped up in his office going through advertising budgets with his sales team, no more staring at the Book at odd times during the night tossing between layouts because he needs to keep Mode and his business as fresh and exciting as possible and crucially, no more women he can't bring home to his mom (or not as many, he's still Daniel Meade, still making the too obvious choices in his typical man-like way).
So now he's busy smelling roses, and making time in his calendar to see his friend on a gorgeous fall day in New York is about as rosy as it can get.
The lunch hour is usually his busiest these days; nobody besides other CEOs really understand how gruelling it is to constantly have working lunches, to wine and dine and stand out from the crowd because the sum total of his job is to make an impression and garner trust from backers and colleagues alike. He's under constant pressure to be visible, to be seen, an unrealistic expectation for anyone who isn't a Claire Meade or Fey Summers.
Needless to say no one, not even Betty, feels sorry for him when he complains about marathon Michelin star dinners, all in the name of a hard days work.
But today he's rearranged a working lunch because Betty had called and asked whether he was free to talk. He'd told Amanda to take an early lunch; she was gone without him saying another word and yeah, it's almost predestined the way these things happen.
Everyone wins, which in his book is definitely a hard days work done right.
They have hot dogs on a bench near Central Park and although the day is a little chilly, the air is crisp and clear. The small children and dog walkers with dogs running around in the middle of the day always remind him a little of what life would be like if he had a family; he suppresses a sigh because let's face it, as much as he wants (or needs) a family of his own he's nowhere near ready enough to be a father.
Besides, he still needs to find the right girl. For a serial womaniser, Daniel's surprisingly traditional that way.
He asks Betty how she is and they make small talk while finishing their hot dogs in the sun. They stroll for a while around the edge of the park; it's all nice and comfortable and his roses right now are smelling really sweet.
He briefly considers lying down on the grass and taking a nap until Betty rather abruptly stops and, apropos of not much, tells him she's decided to end things with David, a freelance nature photographer who Daniel had met more than a few times and secretly thought had been anointed by Betty as The One.
Fortuitously (or not), he's just broken up with Alesha, an investment banker who had admitted that when push came to shove, she would always put her job first. He had refused to be shoved on the grounds he actually wanted more than a part-time girlfriend and well, that had been that.
(As far as reasons for a break up goes, Daniel is proud to say it's one of his more rational, mature moments.)
But it's not about him at the moment; it's about Betty and so he turns his attention back onto her.
She's not sad exactly but he can tell she's upset and what's more, consumed by worry about hurting David's feelings. When she's like this, being so considerate, Daniel can't help but wish some of her compassion would rub off onto him (it'd make him a much better person, but there he goes thinking about himself again).
He tells her all the things he knows she wants to hear. Tells her not because they aren't true but because they are; that she's caring and loyal and David's a good guy, he'll understand that she doesn't feel exactly the same way about him. This is all for the best. She's too good a person to lead someone on and now that she knows he isn't the one for her she's doing the honourable thing and ending it before it gets too far.
She knows, but he can tell by the way her shoulders are hunching that she's still miserable about it. She's beginning to shrink into herself, withdraw like a wounded animal which isn't a good sign as far as Daniel's concerned. He saw it before with Henry and Jesse and that other guy she really adored but who he can't name at the moment and he really doesn't want her to feel that crushed about anything, or anyone, ever again.
She glances at her watch and sighs; comments in a forlorn, small voice that they should be getting back to work.
He places a comforting arm around her shoulders, looks down into her eyes. "It's going to be okay Betty."
"I know." She looks down at the ground, sighs again. "It's just … you know. I hate feeling like this."
"I know." And he does, he really does. He sees and understands a lot when it comes to Betty.
He gives her a quick hug, not perfunctory in the slightest but he's pleased to see her spirits pick up as a result. She even manages a tiny smile and if she notices that she's grabbed onto his hand and is holding it tightly, she doesn't let on.
Neither does he, because it's no big deal. It's only afterwards that he realises she doesn't let go until they part ways at his town car, ready to drive him back to work.
* * * * *
Daniel examines himself critically in the town car, satisfied by the image he sees. Black tux, bow tie, perfect hair, even if it is blowing slightly in the wind (but he's reasonably sure he's put enough gel in to compensate for the wind factor).
He admits he can be a tad vain, although he's glad the sheer amount of time he spends preening is a closely guarded secret. Unfortunately, there's at least one person who shares this secret and tonight he's not looking forward to seeing how much time Betty will spend teasing him about it.
Well, if she takes the teasing too far he'll just have to remind her that he's only coming as a favour to her, being how she's less a "plus one" now after David. Although he doubts he'll actually tease her about it; he knows she's still vulnerable and even an emotional tea spoon like Daniel knows it's not the most sensitive thing to do.
Although it is a major sacrifice on his part. They're going to a climate change gala that her magazine is partly sponsoring and which Betty helped put together, so no guesses what the speeches will be about tonight.
God, climate change. He's as green as the next rich guy who pretends to care about the environment but honestly, he hates speeches and all the ornamental hypocrisy that comes with it.
So he's careful to liquor up as soon as they hit traffic. Not that he's going to go overboard with it, the last thing he wants is to embarrass Betty in her moment of philanthropic glory.
They arrive at the gala and if there are too many speeches for his liking, at least it's not the absolutely worst one of these he's been to. For one thing, the champagne selection more than makes up for the dull speeches and for another, it's a wonderful chance to see Betty in her element and with her new co-workers who are not all that new now.
He's careful to remain in the background as much as he can; it's her night and he wants her to shine.
He looks at her, in an unusually muted dark red dress the colour of fine wine; sees how bright her eyes sparkle under the chandeliers while speaking animatedly to kindly looking older men no doubt important in the climate change scheme of things. Watches her figure move beneath her dress and if she doesn't have as much elegance as Daniel's past girlfriends she makes up for it with a lot of poise and confidence, acquired only in recent years as far as he can remember.
Realises suddenly how quickly she's outgrowing Daniel, if she hasn't done so already.
The thought doesn't sit lightly with him.
She catches his gaze, excuses herself and comes to him, two glasses of champagne in hand. Her hair has definitely grown out to a more flattering length now, throwing soft shadows over her features and if she has learned the value of an anti-frizz serum, he's only able to notice the effect right at this moment.
She hands him a glass, smile wide and bright. "Thank you so much for coming with me Daniel."
"No problem. Couldn't miss seeing you in the limelight." They clink glasses. "It's a fantastic gala, Betty. You should be really proud of yourself."
She smiles a tad bashfully, glances away and he does the same. When he's ready to catch her eye again, her smile's gone. "I am. It's great. But … it kind of reminded me of Mode. Helping to put this together … it was something I learned there."
He nods; sips his champagne thoughtfully. "I'm glad Mode wasn't a complete waste of time for you then."
It's meant to be a joke and he's smiling, but it doesn't reach his eyes. She catches it right away.
"Daniel, you know I loved working at Mode, right? It wasn't a waste of time at all. Don't even begin to think it." He opens his mouth to protest but she doesn't believe him and frankly, neither does he. "I meant that in a good way, about learning how to do all this – at Mode."
He can almost hear the 'with you' hastily being replaced, then promptly discards it. "Mode gave me such a huge chance in this industry … without it I wouldn't be here."
How does champagne suddenly turn sour? "That was my father, Betty, not me. If it'd been up to me I wouldn't have hired you at all, remember?"
"I know that." He finds himself turning away but she grabs him for dear life. "What's the matter with you? I know you didn't hire me, just like you weren't happy about me being your assistant. But that was at first, that doesn't count. You were such a great boss to me after that, you encouraged me and helped me to get out there and go after what I really wanted. And best of all, you were my friend." She bites her lip, all pretence of light heartedness falling from her face. "You have no idea what that meant – what that still means – to me."
Her hand slides down his arm and suddenly she's holding his hand; squeezes it for reassurance but Daniel's not sure who she's trying to reassure. "Where's this coming from? Did something happen? Is it something I should know about?" Horror slides over her features. "Oh no, did something terrible happen and I've been too self-centred to see it and you haven't told me because you thought it'd ruin my night?"
Her eyes are so sympathetic, it's hard not to soften in the face of it. "No, nothing's happened." He squeezes her hand, only faintly registering how warm their hands are together. "Betty, I have no idea where this is coming from. I just …" He shrugs, drains the rest of his glass. "I have no idea."
"Well, me neither. You're talking crazy and I haven't even teased you about your hair yet."
She reaches out to touch his hair and he mock pulls away. It makes both of them laugh and just as rapidly as it came, his bad mood disappears.
He puts it down to the potency of the champagne.
He thinks he's right when she starts giggling and teasing him about his hair, eyes all sparkling and radiant and wow, he sure has drunk enough for the night.
He's still holding her hand or she's holding his, he doesn't know which way is up or down. Notices how warm and soft it is and promptly wants to toss his glass away because clearly, he's had way, way too much to drink.
Thankfully (or not), they're interrupted by the gala photographer. Daniel later decides that he hates her for no reason.
"Ms Suarez, do you want a picture with your gorgeous man?"
When Daniel doesn't answer (he's too busy trying not to snort into his champagne without choking), Betty has to intervene and take the brunt of the misunderstanding.
"Oh no, he's not gorgeous. I mean, he is. I mean, not that he isn't, because come on – but no, he's a man." She halts, reddens and takes a deep breath. "I meant, of course he is a man, clearly, a – man. What I meant was, he isn't my man. But yes, we'd love a picture."
The poor photographer looks so bewildered Daniel almost feels sorry for her (almost). She laughs and they take a picture and it's his turn to tease Betty about her superior grasp of language because clearly, reporters are so much better at expressing themselves more so than say, a chief editor of a fashion magazine does.
The next day, Amanda eagerly shows him the picture that's made it into the society pages. His eyes run quickly over the photo but he's distracted by the caption underneath,'Daniel Meade and friend' when it should be the other way round.
He tosses it into the recycling pile, disgusted. Clearly, no one sees Betty for who she really is; a talented, radiant individual any man worth his two cents would see. If the world was fair the caption would be the other way round, even a semi-emotional buffoon like Daniel can see that.
It's only later while he's eating lunch at his desk that he recalls the photo at all; remembers her somewhat uneasy smile in the soft light almost as bright and warm as the real thing, her arms linked around his. Doesn't know why her smile seems different to him; surely he's seen in a thousand times before?
The thought troubles him, so he dismisses it from his mind.