Hey friends. Sorry it's been ages since I last updated. Life got a little crazy, but you get two chapters today! And good lord willing, we'll see Bess and Harvey interact in the present again soon. R/R.
Disclaimer: If I owned Suits, Harvey would never be at work. Sadly, I don't.
Harvey Specter was not a happy camper. Not at all. After one too many glasses of champagne and the company of a rather adorable little brunette he knew, he did not want to be woken for any reason at all. But, alas, his cellphone would not stop ringing. He inched gingerly out of the bed-noting that he was still at Bess's apartment—pulled on his boxers and grabbed the offending little piece of technology.
Of course. Donna was calling. He answered the phone quickly, if only to stop the pounding in his head. Hang over. Great.
"What?" he said, briskly, his voice rather raw and clearly indicating what he had been up to the night before.
"You sound like I feel," he got in response. Donna's normally husky voice had dropped into the baritone octave. Obviously, she'd had a rather fun night as well. "But I'm still at the office, at least. And if you're not here soon, a certain managing partner will not be happy. Apparently some new client needs some hand holding over a merger, and she wants you."
Harvey was half way listening to Donna, though the other half of his brain was occupied with thoughts of where the heck Bess had gone off to. She wasn't in bed, and when he peaked into the overly large bathroom attached to the master bedroom, she wasn't there either. He finally returned to sit on the bed only to have a small piece of paper on her pillow catch his eye. It read:
Off to London for a while. In rehearsals for Euegene Onegin. The cake on the counter is for you and Donna. And take some aspirin, or you'll hate yourself all day.
B
"Harvey!" And there she went again. That damned woman.
"Donna," he replied, "you know it isn't kind to scream at someone who has a hangover."
"Oh, I'm sorry mister man. Shall I fetch you a Bloody Mary and your comfy slippers and let you put your feet up for a while?" Her tone was dripping with sarcasm and clearly said I'm playing the world's smallest violin, just for you. It was the sort of thing only Donna could get away with.
"Look, I'll be there soon. Just….hold Jessica off or no cake for you." There was a momentary pause before Donna spoke again.
"Bess baked a cake?"
"Yes."
"The cake?"
"Yes."
"The chocolate cake?"
"Yes."
If there was anything in this world that Donna was a sucker for, it was Bess's damned chocolate cake. Well hell, she thought. There goes all my gym time for the week.
"Aye aye, Captain."
Harvey ended the call and quickly threw on his undershirt, slacks and shoes, then sent Donna a text telling her to meet him in the lobby with his extra suit. He was about to turn on his heels and leave when something at the end of the bed caught his eye. There, folded all neatly, was his Harvard shirt that Bess had stolen all those years ago. Picking it up, he caught the sweet scent of her perfume, the orange blossom conditioner she used, the slightest hint of fresh baked cookies, and something underneath that just meant Bess to him. He lifted the shirt to his face and breathed deeply, taking her in. He wasn't sure if he was meant to have the shirt, but he took it anyway, wanting to at least keep a little of her with him.
If he was honest, Harvey had no idea what to expect from Bess after last night, and he certainly didn't know how he would have handled waking up next to her in the morning. But, to have her up and leave in the middle of the night was more than a little disconcerting. He shot Donna another text asking her to figure out how long Bess was in London and, if possible, where the hell she was staying before heading for the kitchen.
The cake was sitting right there, just as he was sure it would be, and of course, it was the damned chocolate cake that had once made Donna proclaim that, were she a lesbian, she would gladly make sweet, sweet love to Bess all night. Harvey had been very quick to remind her that, thank you very much, that was his job. He picked up the tray with the cake and noticed a key underneath it with a post-it note attached.
Take the damn key.
A key. To her apartment.
It took a moment for it to register, but he finally grabbed the key and shoved it into his pants pocket. He'd had a key to the penthouse since he was thirteen up until the ill-fated day when he had walked out. Briefly, he remembered the painful experience of throwing his key in Bess's general direction as he stormed out the door, duffel bag in hand. It had not been a pretty scene.
And yet, there she was with a peace offering, once again, essentially inviting him back into her life, if he wanted. Of all the people he had hurt in his life, Bess had been the worst, by far. He knew how much courage it must have taken for her to once again open herself up to him. Despite everything, she still trusted him, and that had to count for something.
