4. The Wedding
Harvey straightens his tie, the warmth hitting him as he steps into the elaborate venue of Mike and Rachel's wedding, his fingers twitching nervously. He'd received a text from Donna saying Ray would be waiting at the airport with a suit, and he doesn't know how many times he read over the words, the first contact he's had with her since she handed in her resignation. He'd typed at least a hundred replies, none of them right to send back, so he hadn't, texting Mike instead and sarcastically telling his friend 'thanks for the invite', that, 'yes, he'd be Best Man', and that he was on his way.
Now that he's here, it's obvious they'd delayed the proceedings to wait for his arrival because when he enters the crowded space, Donna and Mike are already together, and his heart stops when his eyes land on her, a thousand feelings hitting him at once. She looks beautiful, radiant— but also, different.
There's a subtle distinction to how she's standing, bare shoulders greeting him that are more poised and defined, like she's been working the muscles harder, and he swallows, taking in everything that's changed. Things that happened without him glossing a film of moisture across his gaze. It's as if his eyes have physically missed seeing her, and for a full second the world ceases to exist around him, until she glances at him, something that's neither a smile or a frown pressing her mouth.
The uncertainty behind the reaction jolts him, his feet wanting to steer in the opposite direction, not face the fact they're virtually strangers staring at each from across a room. Strangers who've known each other better than anyone and can still read each other with a single look. He's had hours to prepare but new words bubble up as he forces himself forward, stolen by a rush of air when she steps around him, his peripheral chasing her shadow, but Mike is there to absorb his attention and soften the blow.
"Just in time," Mike thrusts out his arm, catching Harvey's naturally firm grip. "I didn't think you we're going to make it."
Harvey shrugs, his adrenaline beating a slower thrum. He has all evening to channel how he's feeling, but right now is about Mike, and he lets his hand drop with a smirk. "What can I say, I like to make an entrance."
"It's going to be awkward when my real Best Man shows up," he ribs jokingly, knowing his friend is doing all he can to hide his tension, and, today of all days, Mike's grateful for Harvey's ability to compartmentalize.
"Oh, I think it's clear who the best man is," Harvey tugs on his tie, no shame in the response.
"Mm, okay, maybe... good." Mike glances around the room, quirking his head. "Not the best."
He's out of sorts, Harvey can tell, and he prompts the man more seriously. "Hey… you ready for this?"
Mike takes a breath, the question stirring a barrage of memories, from his unplanned interview to everything that's led him here to this moment; the fights, the heartache, the happiness. He couldn't have asked for someone more amazing than Rachel to share those experiences with, and his mouth stretches around a smile. "Yeah, I am."
"I think you are too." Harvey relaxes, bringing his palm up to clap the man's shoulder when a soft melody starts in the background, cueing the start of the ceremony. It's an unspoken assumption that he and Donna will be sharing the aisle, weird if they didn't, but she avoids his gaze as he moves to stand behind her. The smell of her perfume tickles his senses and his heart leaps into his throat, the need to say something burning in his chest. He keeps his voice low, not wanting to disturb the crowd, ensuring the question is for her ears only. "How are you?"
The sound vibrates through her, making her knees wobble, but her attention stays switched ahead, watching as Mike takes his first stride towards Rachel. "Really, Harvey?"
The whisper is harsh, and yeah, it was probably stupid to try and break the ice so casually, but he isn't sure how else to act. They're about to witness their best friend's vowels, and she doesn't deserve to have the memory tainted when she looks back on it in years to come. "I just—"
"Didn't want things to be awkward?"
Rachel catches her gaze, and she smiles broadly, forcing down the butterflies doing somersaults in her stomach. She'd invited Harvey because it was the right thing to do. They're both adults, and she takes a steadying breath. "I can put everything aside for one night, if you can?"
The question leads her head around, her eyes finding his, and he feels exposed as she searches them in a way that's all too familiar. If he wasn't okay to do the same, she'd know in an instant, but he's right there with her. "Good, so can I."
The music suddenly changes, signalling it's their turn, and they fall in line at the edge of the chairs, descending down the aisle and acknowledging the crowd of people who managed to make it. It's the first time he thinks about Paula, how there would have been room for her, but with such short notice, and several appointments she couldn't reschedule, she'd regretfully declined the invite and he hadn't pushed her into accepting.
But now, walking down the aisle with Donna, a respectable space between them, he isn't sure how he feels, and when Mike and Rachel recite their vowels, he's even more at a loss, meeting Donna's gaze more than once across the set-up stage. It's as though there are a hundred miles between them and none at all. He can't recall how many days it's been since they were in the same room together, and a gut-wrenching guilt laces around all the things that went wrong, but they agreed -as far as he can tell- tonight isn't for wearing fault or harbouring blame.
They're putting everything aside for their friends, and when Mike kisses his bride, the guests erupt in a cheer, spilling a sea of people between them. He'd like nothing more than to shy away from the commotion but, apparently, being the Best Man is actually a duty filled role, just like Maid of Honor, and it takes far too long before he's stood at the bar, downing his first whiskey for the night.
He feels a sudden presence behind him and turns, his mouth curving on instinct. "I gotta say Mike, those were some beautiful vowels." His eyes drift over the crowd, taking in the sea of people and landing on the kid's wife, who is standing engaged in a conversation with Donna. "Especially the part about family."
"Thanks, Harvey." Mike returns the smile, anxious about the other news he has to share but relieved he's able to do it face-to-face. He wasn't looking forward to breaking it over the phone, and he takes the opportunity to be serious with his former mentor. "I didn't get to say it before, but I'm really glad you could make it.
"Me too." He swigs his scotch, letting his words escape more freely, "but I should be the one who's saying thank you. You saved the firm."
"Harvey—"
"And before you say anything, look, let me just say I was wrong." He interrupts whatever the kid was about to say, needing to get a few things off his chest. "You're senior partner material. You are ready. And when you come back from your honeymoon—"
"We're not coming back, Harvey." He puts the truth out there, swallowing hard, but drawing the strength to be completely upfront. "Rachel and I were offered a chance to run a firm in Seattle. It's a place that only takes class action cases against Fortune 500 companies, and we decided to go for it."
Harvey absorbs everything the kid is throwing at him, not buying it. "Mike—"
"I did exactly what I told you I'd do when I found out the firm was in trouble, but I don't ever want to have to make a choice like that again." It was one of the hardest things he's had to do, and he watches his former mentor's face twist with confusion, his response coming out hard and fast.
"You don't have to," he counters, "if you want to do more pro-bono cases, then—"
"That's not the point, Harvey, and you know it." The words are blunt, but in no way harsh or judging. He didn't expect Harvey to just up and accept the decision he and Rachel made, but at the very least he needs his best friend to try to understand it. "This is who I am, who I've always been, and there are a lot of changes going on, I get that, but we're all finding our places." He instinctively seeks out his wife, who is deep in conversation with Donna, and he didn't mean for his gaze to land somewhere so profound, but it doesn't change sentiment riding the tip of his tongue. "It's time for Rachel and I to do the same."
...
Rachel takes in the surrounding room, the glitz and all the people enjoying themselves, in complete awe of how everything came together. It's better than perfect, and she directs her beaming smile back to Donna."You have no idea how much this all means. Thank you for pulling it off in time."
"This?" Donna shrugs. "It was nothing. All in a day's work." A stressful day's work, that nearly saw her firing half the catering staff, but her best friend doesn't need to know about all the near-emergencies that were thwarted last minute. The important thing is, Rachel's having the wedding she's always dreamed of, and judging by the glow surrounding her, the benchmark was well and truly hit.
Rachel's gaze flutters to where Mike and Harvey are standing, locking eyes with her now-husband who looks more relaxed than she's seen him in weeks, free of the stress he's been carrying around. He'd been anxious to break the news about the wedding and the move to Harvey over the phone, but she can read that the conversation between the two men is going well, and it's another moment that wouldn't have been possible without Donna's intervention. "I don't just mean organizing everything," she says, her heart swelling with gratitude on Mike's behalf. Though she hadn't expected it, she isn't surprised Donna went above and beyond to get Harvey back from Chicago in time. "Reaching out to Harvey can't have been an easy thing to do."
"Technically I reached out to Jessica," she argues the difference, playing it off. The woman had told her Harvey's movements, a curious intrigue resting beneath her tone, but to Jessica's credit she hadn't pushed. She'd simply expressed her hope that everything was going well, to which Donna did the same. The text she'd then quickly composed to Harvey was short and to the point. He hadn't even bothered responding to her directly, going through Mike instead, which was typical of him. He's a man who always knows how to act, and when he doesn't, his fallback is to not say or do anything. A lawyer first, she thinks, taking another sip of champagne.
Rachel watches her down a little too much in one go, meeting Harvey's gaze by accident over her shoulder. He blinks away, and Rachel shifts her attention to study her friend. "You know he hasn't taken his eyes off you all night."
She does know that. Not by catching him out, but from sensing it. Like a sixth sense they've always been able to share. Even after nearly two months of not seeing each other, she can still feel when he lingers in her direction, and she takes a deep breath.
"Donna—"
"I know, Rach." She downs the rest of her alcohol, recognizing the warning behind her friend's concern. She'd promised herself she could put everything that happened out of her mind for one night. That doesn't mean she's setting herself up for another fall. She and Harvey have moved on. Standing in the same room, being able to have casual conversation for a few hours isn't going to change that.
The flicker of determination that crosses her face instantly puts Rachel more at ease. It's complicated, she gets it, but she also saw her best friend get deeply hurt because of everything that happened. The last thing she wants is for Donna to undo all the progress she's made, the distance between NYC and Seattle suddenly feeling a lot more real. "Just promise me you're going to keep putting yourself first."
Her voice wavers slightly, making Donna's eyes water as she clutches the empty glass in her hand. "I promise." They're happy tears. She's excited for the brunette's new adventure but they're both on the verge ruining their make-up, and she pulls her best friend into a hug before the water-works unleash. On any other day it wouldn't phase them, but people are still snapping pictures, and it's her job to make sure the bride stays completely stunning throughout the night.
"I'm going to miss you so much." Rachel sucks in a breath, not sure how she's going to cope, but she knows they will.
"Hey, you're not leaving me, remember, just the city." Donna squeezes her tightly. Things are going to be different, but if the last few weeks have proved anything, it's that they can weather a little distance.
"Oh my god, you guys."
Louis throws his arms around them and if there had been any champagne left in Donna's glass it would have splashed over, but she smiles at the engagement, her grin split between Rachel and Louis when he releases them. There are still a few hours left to soak up the rest of the evening, and she wants to catch up on everything she's missed, starting with all the honeymoon details. "I think it's time we did some serious girl-gossiping."
Louis' eyes light up at the inclusion and a wave of nostalgia washes over Donna, having missed the three of them being together like this. She'd caught up with Louis on the odd occasion, Rachel more often, but it seems like a decade since they've been in the same room, and she tries to pretend there isn't a presence missing, that she can't still feel Harvey's eyes on her through the crowd. She won't turn him away from the gathering if he wants to join, but she's not going to extend an invitation either, and she gladly loses herself in Louis and Rachel's enthusiasm rather than worrying about Harvey's movements.
It's a rule she tries to stick to as she moves through different circles during the night, crossing paths with him because it was inevitable, but they always manage an amicable exchange. They're never alone together, surrounded by the safety of other people's conversations, and she usually has to leave first anyway, either to direct the caterers or check on guests.
She's not deliberately avoiding him.
They agreed to put their differences aside, and that's what she's doing, she just has an obligation to fulfil that comes second to him, and she doesn't feel guilty about that anymore.
…
Harvey watches Donna excuse herself for what feels like the hundredth time, the words to his left blurring into a muted mumble as his eyes trail her to where she meets a woman wearing a headset and holding a clipboard.
The celebrations feel like they're winding down faster than they should, and the more minutes that pass the less easy Donna is to pin down, not that he has any idea what to say when faced with her. The few feet they've kept apart may as well be the distance of a canyon, and he drinks a little too much trying to compensate for his nerves, and the impending goodbye with his best friend.
When it happens, his last embrace with Mike hits him hard.
It's short and brief, but no less impacting than Donna and Rachel's drawn out hug, and as he watches them go, leaving he and Donna standing alone in the foyer, it's the first time he doesn't hesitate with his words. "You okay?"
She folds her arms over her chest clinging to herself with a sigh. "Yeah." The silence between them isn't strained but the presence of it and the stillness pushes her need to seek out a distraction. "I should get started on the clean up."
"I'll help." The offer slips out and he's met by her curious frown, countering it with a shrug. "Best Man, only fair, right?"
He doesn't have to do anything. There are plenty of staff still around but in truth, she could use a hand ushering out the last of the guests. "Sure," she answers, dragging her eyes away from the door and tearing herself from the exit.
Harvey follows her instructions to the letter, collecting coats and moving chairs, all the while keeping a subtle check on her movements- afraid she might slip-out into the night without notice.
It's a fear that proves to be unwarranted when she eventually seats herself down at one of the tables, kicking off her shoes and tiredly rubbing her neck. He leaves what he's doing, steering past the empty bar on his way over to her, and stealing two beers from the fridge.
They've probably had enough alcohol, but the weight of each drink propels his confidence and his steps forward.
"Here..."
Donna glances at his outstretched hand and thinks about declining. They've met the minimum requirements to get Mike and Rachel's deposit back. She was just taking a moment to herself before calling a ride, but she owes Harvey at least a thank you for sticking around, and removes the bottle from his grasp with a small smile. "I appreciate the heavy lifting."
He takes the soft comment as an invitation to stay, and lowers himself in the chair opposite her, twisting the cap off his beer and watching it bounce on the table cloth. He didn't do much. Just packed a few things away once everyone left but honestly he'd wanted to be here, push through his nerves and actually talk to her. He's been picking up tidbits all night, about her job, the assistant she has and the colleagues she's working with. Most of it was second-hand information but he doesn't dive straight in, selfishly not ready to hear how she's moved on so easily. But they do have one obvious thing in common, and he leans on his earlier concern. "You sure you're gonna be okay?
It sounds patronizing, like she doesn't have anyone else, and she swallows thickly. "I know other people, Harvey." The defensiveness is more abrasive than intended, plunging them into silence, and maybe it isn't fair. All night he's been the one approaching her, while she's been the first to leave, but they're here now, and she feels obligated to direct the question back. "How about you?"
He doesn't know how to answer, the thin veil that's holding everything back weakened by her gaze. After she left, the emptiness that's been filling him since Jessica's departure has seemed to dig in roots, spreading with a vengeance, but he doesn't want to be a storm cloud, not tonight. They're both in the same boat, riding it out over their losses, and he shrugs, glancing around the room. There are still a few strings of lights to come down, bathing the two of them in a soft glow, and even though the space is now mostly void of decorations, the memory of it a few hours ago isn't leaving him anytime soon. "You did an amazing job, by the way, arranging all this." He glances back at her, realizing it's not quite what he wanted to say. She did, but there's more, and he taps his thumb against the bottle in his hand. "Thank you, for letting me know in time. Being here meant a lot."
The genuine gratitude is hard to assimilate, because it means there's a part of him that thought she wouldn't, leading her to wash down the assumption with a long swig of beer. He's obviously trying, and it might be coming out wrong, but it does breed a certain sense of nostalgia, and she does her best to meet him halfway. "I wasn't going to let you miss Mike's wedding."
"I probably would've deserved it." He takes a chance on breaching the canyon between them, scrubbing at the label beneath his nails. They both made mistakes, and he'd let things go on, never really accepting that one of them wouldn't reach out when the timing was right. Maybe that was wrong, an excuse so he could let her go without actually having to, but he can't keep blanketing the way he feels, especially when her gaze probes him with a raised eyebrow.
"Probably?" she asks, the response void of any humor.
"Donna—"
"Stop," she shakes her head, keeping him from airing the words he's about to stumble over. She doesn't need it anymore, and making him feel guilty over what happened isn't what she wants. Their relationship has changed, but she has too, saying goodbye to the things that kept her tethered for so long. It's been a fresh start, and she loosens her shoulders, letting herself sink into the reality that's become another new normal. "You don't have to say anything."
"What if I want to?" He asks for permission first because even though he wants to take responsibility, he knows her acceptance isn't being forced. She's one of the most spirited, passionate people he's ever met, and he doesn't know which is worse; the finality that she's moving on or the way she doesn't interject, leaving him the floor. It's selfish but he takes it, needing to release the burden he's been carrying for weeks. "I should have talked to you about everything, not tried to hide it. Going to Stu behind your back was a mistake."
He navigates around the apology like there are landmines in his path, pointing out facts to keep him on a safe trajectory, but she lets herself absorb it because at the end of the day, he's still with Paula, and if it wasn't for Mike and Rachel's wedding, he wouldn't even be giving her this much. He might be sorry but that doesn't actually change anything, and she has no reason to push it, except to confirm her own curiosity. "You don't regret it though."
It's not an accusation, more a tentative statement, and he takes a drink, not sure what to tell her. He didn't want things to play out the way they did. He misses her and some days it's harder to bear than others, but he's also happy with Paula. It's his first real relationship, a commitment, and maybe Paula was right, maybe they wouldn't have survived if he and Donna had kept working together. "It's complicated."
She snorts over the neck of her bottle. "Of course it is, it's us."
The comment stirs an ache of nostalgia as he takes her in, the way she's sat with her bare foot pulled up beneath her, like she's done in his office over a hundred times before. Except this is different. She's an entity without him now, and suddenly the small pieces she's been filling in don't seem like enough. He hasn't just missed her, he's missing out on everything happening in her life and it scares him. But sitting with her now, if he keeps himself still in the moment, it's like nothing has changed, and that might just scare him more. "This should be awkward."
She doesn't have to ask what he means. She feels it too, the strange way they're able to move around everything that went wrong, the pull between them stronger than logic or reason. They should be keeping their distance but old habits die hard. "I guess it takes more than two months to erase thirteen years."
It's not said with any bite, but the idea she would even think that's what he wanted cuts deeply, even though he can understand why she would assume that. They'd left things in a bad place and he hadn't fought to find a way out of it. He'd allowed everything to run its course, and she's right, he doesn't necessarily regret it, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't fix things now if he could. "That's not what I want, Donna."
"Then what do you want?" she asks seriously, not expecting a straight answer, and surprised when he gives her one.
"This… us, complicated or not," he motions between them, finding her gaze. "I care about you, that's never going to change."
Her heart stammers in her chest and she doesn't know if it's a warning or a reaction to a confession she's been hoping to hear, but like it or not, his situation means they can't be candid in the same way anymore. "Well, this is something I don't think Paula would approve of."
He winces at the implication, like he's the kind of guy that can't move sideways without his girlfriend's permission. He'd chosen to let things unfold the way they did, that's on him, but if there's a chance he and Donna can move forward from where they are now, he'll re-write the rules any way he has to. "It's not up to her, and even if it was, she never meant we couldn't stay friends."
"Friends?" A humorless sound catches in her throat. They've been a lot of variations of the term over the years, as close as two people can be without a physical attachment, but friends is a label that's never really suited them. "And how would that work?"
He pulls on his beer with a smirk. "We're doing an okay job now, aren't we?
"Because we agreed one night, and I don't think Mike and Rachel are going to come back and have a wedding every time you want to hang out." She makes the point, watching the quirk behind his lips dissolve.
He hangs his head not blaming the barrier she's putting up. He'd unintentionally set boundaries and she'd been burned by them, but he can't bring himself to believe she'd really throw away over a decade of history, and he angles his gaze at her, his voice quiet as it falls between them. "What do you want?"
She stares ahead, having never been sure enough of herself to answer honestly before, and she's still figuring it out, but she knows what she doesn't want, and that's falling back into bad habits. "I'm happy, Harvey." She's not trying to hurt him or be cruel. Leaving him was one of the hardest things she's ever had to do, but she managed it. She's standing on her own now, and she's afraid letting him in again would be a mistake. "I love my job. I'm great at it. My life is in a good place and I don't want to screw that up."
He nods slowly, his mind twisting the implication in a way that makes it sound like she's better off without him, and his eyes burn, pulling up to the surrounding lights. What's worse is he can't tell if he's just being paranoid or if there's truth driving his fear. Deep down he's always felt he needed her more, and he selfishly needs to know which one it is, his voice scratching as he forces out what's probably the hardest question he's ever had to ask. "You don't miss it?"
You don't miss me?
That's what he's really asking, and she finds his gaze, taking in everything she's been avoiding all night. The way his tie is hanging ever so slightly off center, the worried creases at the corners of his eyes, and the look in them that speaks to every squashed down, buried feeling she's forced herself to forget. She wants to say she's completely moved on, wishes she could, but for all their faults, outright lying has never been one of them, no matter how hard it is to face the truth. "Of course I do."
He releases the breath he'd been holding, air filling his lungs as he clears his throat. That's all he needed. Just the slightest hope that she isn't willing to let go either, and he takes a risk, because if he doesn't they're both going to walk out of this building and lose each other all over again. "Why don't we go for another drink, grab a burger or something?"
The suggestion hangs heavily, the silence broken by her stomach growling. There was plenty of food but she hadn't stopped to eat anything, too busy making sure the event was going as planned and all the guests were having a good time. She's running on alcohol and he is too, a warning in itself, and they're both vulnerable from saying goodbye to their friend's. He's never handled people up and leaving well, especially when it's sudden, and for all she knows that's why he's pushing so hard. "If this is about Mike—"
"It's not," he defends too quickly. It obviously has a little to do with Mike. The news about Seattle had come as a shock, not to mention the merger with Robert is going to bring a whole new wave of changes. He'd be kidding himself if he said he wasn't anxious but that has nothing to do with them. The ambiguity from their last encounter had acted almost like a buffer. He hadn't been looking at his future without her. He was getting through it each day at a time, but being here and surrounded by celebrations of a tradition that means forever, he can't help but confront a reality he's suddenly terrified of.
"Okay, maybe that's a small part of it…" he admits carefully, "but I can accept Mike moving to Seattle. I don't want us to be in the same city, bumping into each other every few years at a coffee cart. I want you in my life, Donna."
Her chest tightens on impulse, clamping around her heart to protect itself, but he's right. She doesn't want to hear stories about him trickling down from their friends, wondering every now and again if he's happy or doing okay, and this isn't like all the other times between them. There are no blurred lines. He's with somebody else and she's accepted that. So, if this is him choosing their relationship over easy, if friends is the alternative to nothing, maybe it's at least worth giving this new, new-normal a shot.
"One condition," she holds his gaze seriously, not taking any chances. "You need to tell her, Harvey. I don't want this to turn into something it's not."
He doesn't either, and has no intention of hiding anything. "It's a deal."
He smiles softly, the glimmer reaching his eyes, and she honestly doesn't know if what they're about to do is stupid or not, but it doesn't stop her placing her drink on the table and bending over to find her shoes. "You're buying."
"Don't I always?" His smile slips into a grin, something that's been missing reappearing as he watches her slide on her heels. He steps in to help, offering his arm, and an easiness clicks into place as she steadies herself. Maybe distance was what they needed to get here, but he can't be himself without her, not completely, and that's never going to change.
...
They decide to forgo the drink and just get food, winding up at a burger joint he's been wanting to try.
Not that the destination was ever really important.
It was, however, a good decision to sober up, his attention hanging on her every word and taking in all the things he's missed. They subconsciously avoid anything awkward like his relationship or her non-existent replacement at the firm, creating a bubble around themselves that exists solely to bring their past and present back together.
If he was still tipsy, he might have voiced the question lingering on his mind; would she ever consider coming back?
He doesn't though. It would only re-create the same problem that caused the rift between them in the first place and she seems genuinely happy where she is. He doesn't know whether he could handle hearing her say she's found a better alternative, so he leaves it, not sure if it's late or early when they finally decide to call it a night. Both are technically true, and they bundle up in their coats, heading out into the cold and finding a cab to share.
He drops her off first, and doesn't care about anything other than the completeness he feels catching her wrist before she escapes the car.
"Hey…" he breathes out, not sure where they go from here, but needing her to know how much the night meant to him. "I'm glad we did this."
She smiles softly back at him. "Me too, Harvey."
They don't make plans to see each other again which he finds unnerving and the cold that replaces her warmth sends a shiver down his spine. He asks the driver to wait until she's inside the building before leaving and pulls out his phone to text Paula. He isn't expecting a response given the hour but she messages just as Donna's form slips from his view, saying she's in bed waiting for him.
He makes an impulse decision and changes addresses, going to Paula's instead of his condo. He doesn't want to face the emptiness of his apartment, not after the whirlwind of emotions he's just been subjected to. They're a mismatch of pieces that he's too exhausted to fit into place, but what he does know is he feels lighter than he has in weeks when he finally stumbles across the threshold into his last destination. He pulls off clothes haphazardly, stripping down to his boxers before crawling onto the mattress beside his girlfriend.
"Hi, you," she smiles as his arms sink around her. "Have fun?"
His eyes are already closing as he presses his face against her neck. "I did. Sorry you weren't there."
She shivers as his breath tickles her skin, biting down softly over her lip. It was a last minute, intimate affair, and even though she'd had a civil meal with Mike and Rachel, she would have felt out of place at their wedding. But her mind has been circling the word intimate, and she hates being so insecure but knows she won't relax if she doesn't ask what's been clawing at her thoughts.
"Harvey?"
"Hmmm..."
His voice is thick with sleep, and it might not be the right time to bring it up, but she needs to. "Was Donna there?"
"Yeah." There's no hesitation beneath the drowsy response. He'd promised Donna he wasn't going to lie and makes no show of hiding anything. "We both had a good time."
She assumes that means there weren't any awkward encounters between them, and she sinks back, knowing he wouldn't have offered the information up so freely if she did have something to worry about.
He chose her, proving where his heart lies, and she drifts off, letting the warmth of his body lull her to sleep.