Chapter Text
"Sir, I'm your housekeeper. This isn't right."
Daniel got to his feet, seizing her hands and kissing the backs of them, one at a time. "Betty, I bless the day my father hired a governess to take care of me. Everything good in my life has been a direct result of your care for me since then. How can it be wrong to want you to continue to care for me, to allow me to care for you in return, for the rest of our lives and with the blessing of God?"
"God might bless us, but society never would," she said. "How could I live, knowing I'd been responsible for you being cast aside by every good society that you should naturally be a part of?"
"You are the only society I care for." His voice was deep and rumbly, the type of tone that always made her stomach flutter. "And if your only objections are what others might say, then there can be no real objection."
Turning away from him, she could feel tears running down her cheeks, the heat of them shocking against her cold skin. "Sir, I can't. I mustn't, and you're wicked to try to make me."
He whirled her around and, for as much as she was trying to fight against it, the feel of him crushing her against his broad chest made her shiver and melt in his arms. His lips were descending to hers and, God help her, she wanted it, craved it, hungered for his kiss in a way that left her weak and breathless and yearning. No matter how wrong it was, this was what she wanted, the only thing she wanted, and her hands flew to his shoulders, holding on to him as she waited through the endless seconds it took for him to look at her face and come nearer, nearer, his breath fanning across her face, the blue of his eyes burning with the intensity of his feelings...
Betty woke up with a start, her heart racing. What was causing these dreams? And why didn't she ever get a damn kiss before she woke up?
Sitting up, she shook her head hard to clear it. That was exactly the wrong thing to think, and she chalked it up to how frustrated she felt physically. She and Matt were taking it slow and even though this time it was her idea to hold off on the sex, she still didn't have any outlet. And if her sneaky brain tried telling her that it had never been as good with Matt as just the dreams of Daniel were, well, wasn't fantasy always better than reality?
With an exasperated noise at her own silliness, she tossed the covers off and climbed out of bed, heading for the shower. Everything would be fine. Obviously, rereading Jane Eyre to de-stress from the late nights and early mornings at work was affecting her dreams. Her brain cast Daniel because he was pretty much the only person she was seeing on a regular basis. She just needed to schedule some time with Matt, that was all. Once she saw him, she'd remember why she loved him, and forget about how she'd felt in Daniel's arms.
***
Daniel groaned as he woke up, his back aching and his muscles tense. He couldn't remember what he'd been dreaming about, just that it was a wrench to leave the dream for reality. He'd fallen asleep on the couch again, the television making a soft sort of white noise in the background. The first few times it had happened, Molly had woken him in the middle of the night and brought him to bed. Lately, she hadn't bothered, just like he hadn't bothered coming home for dinner when he knew they'd just sit there and struggle for something to say to each other.
How had they gotten to this? The days after she'd gone into remission had been like an extended honeymoon, even better than when they had first gotten together. They'd gone to Tahiti and laughed and played in the surf, made love on the balcony of their cottage on the beach, and eaten so much that Molly teased him about getting a little pudge and he'd been amazed at how quickly she didn't look sick anymore.
It had all fallen apart when they got home. Her apartment seemed empty at first without the medical equipment they'd needed when it looked like she was close to the end, but soon it seemed cramped as he moved more of his things in. They'd talked about finding someplace else, but this was close to her work, and he still wasn't in a financial position to make the kind of large capital expenditure that would be necessary to buy something bigger in a comparable neighborhood. They'd just managed to buy Hartley out, despite Connor still being "Missing with the Meade Millions," as the Post had put it in the morning's paper. Molly had flinched and Daniel had tossed the paper into the garbage, but it was another thing they didn't talk about.
Maybe that was the problem - they needed to talk. This week was going to be a nightmare, with a buildup toward Mode's first Pre-Fall show and collection, and then it would be Christmas. They had been planning to do some followup and preparation for the new year, but maybe he'd have Betty clear his calendar. He and Molly could go back to Tahiti. They could make it work - they had to. It didn't make sense for them to get a miracle and have her live, only to then have it all fall apart because they couldn't seem to remember why they loved each other.