Love and Happiness

A/N: last in the cheesily named Should We Love? trilogy. Couldn't think of a better name. Hope you enjoy it anyhow.


Three years. It was three years since Betty had gone to meet Daniel at Their Bridge. And here Daniel was, finishing up for the day in his office at Meade Publications.

He was a very happy man indeed. He and Betty had married a year ago with close family and friends (and maybe a paparazzo or two) invited for the small wedding. They had begun dating two years ago and engaged for three months. All the while they were getting closer and more intimate with each other, Betty had also been working hard and had gotten her dream job at the New York Times.

Betty had been happy when she got the job.

They had been extremely happy when they had begun dating.

They had been joyous when they had gotten engaged and ultimately married.

And yet now, they were both ecstatic! Betty had found out just a few days ago that she was pregnant! They were going to be parents. Betty, a gorgeous Mom. And him, ex-Playboy Extraordinaire, a father! Life just couldn't be better.

He looked at his watch, it was nearing six. He and Betty were to meet at Their Bridge at six thirty, a monthly get together. Panicking, Daniel hurried with his things and quickly rushed out of his office, making it to the bridge in record time, especially in the rush hour traffic. Getting out of the car, he briskly made his way towards the bridge enjoying the view of the river. A quick glance at his watch and it told him it was six twenty-five. A few moments later and his cell phone began ringing. Sighing, he delved into his pocket and retrieved it, intending to tell the unknown caller to buzz off.

"Daniel Meade…"

"Mr Meade, this is Det. John Graham, NYPD… Sir, your wife, Betty Meade, she was in a car collision earlier this evening and I'm sorry, sir, but-," The rest of the sentence went unheard as the phone dropped out of Daniel's slack grip and his legs gave way.


So…? Thoughts…? Threats…? Um…reviews? Please….
BTW, I know it's not normal procedure for a cop to tell someone that a person is dead over the phone but well…dramatic purposes and all that. Or just assume that Betty begged the police/medics (EMT) to let her talk to him one last time. Oh, and if any American movie dudes are lurking – please remember, the Brits no longer call the police Bobbies; it's cops/coppers/the dirt/scum or please refer to Gene "Genie" Hunt. :P
PS: all of my fics are unbeta'd as I'm a really impatient. Take care now!