Tom goes to speak with the board. Harlee needs some fresh air.
Outside, she pulls the hairpins out. The tendrils fall in a curtain around her face. She looks up and raindrops make her look like she is crying. As if-there is enough water on the ground. The flower beds are spilling mud soup on the marble and the hem of her dress mops it up with gusto. She picks it up and holds on to the rail but her stiletto slips anyway. "Damn it!" she mutters just as a strong hand catches her at the elbow. The touch is familiar and familiar goose bumps flare up.
"Harlee..."
"Don't you touch me", she spits out. He makes sure she is steady and releases her hand. The wind is merciless, whipping her and her hair around and sending clumps of leaves into her dress. He takes off his jacket but she puts her hand up.
"How the hell did you manage to drag Tom into this? and I am with him, God damn it!"
"Harlee, it's not what you th...
"Your lying sucks, Robert. You must be out of practice." She narrows her beautiful eyes.
He opens his mouth to say something but suddenly she realizes her hand is somehow in his again and he is rubbing her knuckles.
"Stop it", she pulls her hand out and her voice is shaking, " Your wife is pregnant, you-you..."
"Harlee, I can fix this..."
She's had enough of him and the fucking leaves in her hair.
"Fix this!" She flips him a finger, and, heels like weapons in hand, braves the stairs before he can stop her.